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(IC) Quickleaf's Rime of the Frostmaiden

Aric steps out of the tavern with Jack, and goes somewhere without prying eyes to cast his ritual. He then transforms into a large dog. He follows Jack to the caravan, and then diligently follows his instructions. As he does so, he speaks to the dogs: "Hello friends, I'm Aric. want to play a game? Follow my lead, it'll be fun!"

OOC: Ritually cast speak with animals, 1 use of shapechange (1 remaining).
Animal handling: 14, 23 if there is advantage
 

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GM POST

At Torrga's caravan... (@Steve Gorak @Aethmud )

At first, the caravan guards are skeptical. One of the guards - the fur-hooded half-orc - is still inside The Blue Clam tavern arguing with the other half-orc. The attention of the remaining four (4) guards slowly is diverted by the diminutive gossamer blue-winged man marketing the greatest of all sled dogs: Snowfang. While accustomed to glimmer-folk, fast-talking merchants, and con-artists, they take any excuse for distraction, chuckling at the clearly overblown sales pitch.

Dour-lipped Torrga Icevein rolls her eyes, chiding the men to get back to work. However, she appears more concerned with locking up an iron chest after surreptitiously checking its contents, then securing it with straps and another lock to her sled with the caravan's trade banner.

"Wonder of the Woofing Wilds, indeed," snorts the green-gloved archer with his scarf slipping down to reveal a wry smile. "This winged man barks more than his dog."

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While the gloom of the Everlasting Rime has reduced morning traffic to a handful of passersby, a few bundled fishermen trekking through the fresh snows point over at the display Jack and Aric are putting on. The Reghed guard wearing a white-fur cloak, however, casts an irritated look back at the green-gloved guard. He speaks to Jack in a voice thick with the joweled dialect of the Reghed tribes, each 'f' sounding more like a 'v'. "Snowfang, eh? Quite the beast. But fancy words and fancy tricks aren't the same as being hitched to a sled on a four-day trek. That's when you take the true measure of a dog. I am Ulif. What's your name, little merchant?" It is surpassingly strange for a Reghed not to identify which tribe they come from – Elk, Tiger, Wolf, Deer, and so forth.

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As "Snowfang" begins rowling and ruffing with the sled dogs, one of the dogs that was lying restlessly on the snow suddenly perks his ears up and cranes his head over his neck, stumbling over some other dogs in excitement. The Reghedman clicks his tongue, struggling to untangle the lead line, and forced to disconnect it to make sense of the knots. The dogs from one of the three sleds are disconnected now. "A-rru-rru-aru-ghff. Trrrrff. Snfff-ffng!" <<"You're not tricking all of us, Aric. We know you're actually Snowfang!">>

Tongue out, the energetic dog (probably close to Aric's age in dog years) begins whining excitedly. <<"I'm Fiasco. This is Chum, Sliff, Fishpaw, Shedley, Lupin... We're not supposed to play games when we're working. The sour-face smells-like-iron lady doesn't like it and she made Sliff stay in the cold box last time we were bad dogs.. ... ..what kind of game?">>


Meanwhile, back at The Eastside inn... ( @Neurotic @VLAD the Destroyer @TaranTheWanderer )


Alma Ostergaard, the haregon warrior Russet Ghostfur, and pragmatic but secretive spellcaster Zeth gather around the table with Lumrolur Bafflestone, Logrim Romwod, and Oskar Whisperstone. It's a conversation best kept from prying ears. Orchestrating a conflict between Torrga's caravan and the town guard in order to delay the caravan's departure long enough for the party to bind their wounds, sleep from the forced march, and prepare their spells.

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Zeth's eyes are heavy with weariness but bright with focus. "If Sephek Kaltro is the killer like I think, he showed no sign of magic on the ship we shared. Before it went down." Falling into brooding silence, Zeth tenses his hand around the mug of hot cider, quaffing it as if there's a void no amount of food and drink will ever fill. "So I don't know how to explain the magical un-melting ice knife we found. But Sephek is sly. He set up two sailors who were plotting to rob him into believing the other cheated at cards, and after the fight, the pair were too sore to throw him overboard..."
PC token_Alma.png


Alma rejoins the party after a genial conversation with a fellow half-elven academic, intruding into the conversation as if she never left. "Of course, it's entirely possible that something changed for this Sephek to gain new powers over ice. There are many things we don't understand upon the wastes of Icewind Dale. I would advise approaching him with caution. Perhaps it's wisest to come at it indirectly? Frame some of the other caravan guards? Isolate Sephek from potential allies?"

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Russet twitches his whiskers with a weary chuckle, "There's a haregon saying: Two thorns in the hand is worth one whisker of roses." He pauses as if the maxim is completely self-evident, but upon getting blank stares, the haregon gestures with his arm still wearing a sling from battle, wincing from the injury. "If that green-gloved archer is who I think he is – Will Greenhand was in a... group... I once was part of." The way he says "group" makes it clear this was something outside the bounds of the law. "I imagine he's only working with Torrga cause he needs the coin. May not even know they've the Cold-Hearted Killer among them..."
 
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Russet twitches his whiskers with a weary chuckle, "There's a haregon saying: Two thorns in the hand is worth one whisker of roses." He pauses as if the maxim is completely self-evident, but upon getting blank stares, the haregon gestures with his arm still wearing a sling from battle, wincing from the injury. "If that green-gloved archer is who I think he is – Will Greenhand was in a... group... I once was part of." The way he says "group" makes it clear this was something outside the bounds of the law. "I imagine he's only working with Torrga cause he needs the coin. May not even know they've the Cold-Hearted Killer among them..."

“So, you figured they could be bribed? We still have that drugar chest we could open. Might be something valuable in it we could trade for Sephek?”
 

“So, you figured they could be bribed? We still have that drugar chest we could open. Might be something valuable in it we could trade for Sephek?”
GM: Incredible memory for having just joined the game ;) I believe @VLAD the Destroyer Logrim has the chest in his bag of holding.


The small extremely battered locked treasure chest is made of strange dark purple wood marked with chain-like rune on the lid (see attached image); Zeth confirms that this is symbol of the "gray dwarves" or duergar. It looks designed for a blocky key, and has three dark metal hinges.
 

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"Oh that's right mister Oskar, the chest. I completely forgot."

Logrim rummages in his pack and pulls out the chest. He places it on a table and looks at it. He begins to mumble to himself.

"Hmm let's see...Nice craftsmanship...Ok now are you safe to open.."

The small gnome begins to pull out tools as he begins to look the chest over for any traps.

OOC: I completely forgot about the chest. Didn't we get rooms? If we did I'd assume we went there before I began to fiddle with the chest. I'm not sure how you want to handle checking for traps and opening the chest. I'm guessing some flavor of mechnics and investigation.
 


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As "Snowfang" begins rowling and ruffing with the sled dogs, one of the dogs that was lying restlessly on the snow suddenly perks his ears up and cranes his head over his neck, stumbling over some other dogs in excitement. The Reghedman clicks his tongue, struggling to untangle the lead line, and forced to disconnect it to make sense of the knots. The dogs from one of the three sleds are disconnected now. "A-rru-rru-aru-ghff. Trrrrff. Snfff-ffng!" <<"You're not tricking all of us, Aric. We know you're actually Snowfang!">>

Tongue out, the energetic dog (probably close to Aric's age in dog years) begins whining excitedly. <<"I'm Fiasco. This is Chum, Sliff, Fishpaw, Shedley, Lupin... We're not supposed to play games when we're working. The sour-face smells-like-iron lady doesn't like it and she made Sliff stay in the cold box last time we were bad dogs.. ... ..what kind of game?">>

"Nice to meet you all Fiasco, Chum, Sliff, Fishpaw, Shedley, and Lupin! By the way, I'm not trying to trick anyone! My humanoid name is Aric, and my friend Jack the snow fairy there calls me Snowfang!

The game, is follow me. Can you all sit at the same time as me? Next trick will be given by Jack
" Aric-dog proceeds to sit patiently.
 

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"Snowfang, eh? Quite the beast. But fancy words and fancy tricks aren't the same as being hitched to a sled on a four-day trek. That's when you take the true measure of a dog. I am Ulif. What's your name, little merchant?"

Jack doffs an imaginary cap with a flourish and bows mid-air. "Ah! Greetings, my good sir Ulif! Wimbley Snowpatter, at your service—canine whisperer, amateur moonlight yodeler, and longtime resident of the far side of Kelvin’s Cairn, where the frost bites back."

He gestures grandly to Snowfang, who’s sitting patiently, ears attentive and at the ready. "I wouldn’t be here in this bustling icicle of a town if not for this magnificent creature! Found him half a year ago—half-starved, coat matted like a yak’s nightmare, and eyes wild with frost-madness. Clearly a stray." Jack's eyes sharpen to a sly twinkle. "But I saw potential—oh, did I see it!"

Jack lowers his voice theatrically, glancing side to side, "He was so hungry, nearly bit my nose off during our first cuddle. But look at him now! Sleek as a skiff on morning ice. That’s the result of dedication and hard-earned discipline, that is. I've trained him with other strays on the far side of the Cairn, but he's the best of the lot by far." He flutters in closer, wings glinting in the dim light. "Now I know what you're thinking, Master Ulif: ‘A pup’s only as good as his longest trek.’ And I say: exactly right! We made it here from the far side of the Cairn in under three days! Wimbley and Snowfang, through blizzards thick as butter, and snowdrifts taller than my ego—which, as you may have noticed, is saying something." Jack gives a knowing smirk to punctuate his confidence.

With a grin, he gestures for Snowfang to take center stage. "And now, if you’ll permit me... the world's fluffiest overachiever will demonstrate a couple tricks, and his innate leadership capacities. He's a natural alpha."

Clapping his gloved hands once with a sharp snap, Jack flutters over to a snow-dusted barrel with a swoop of glittering wings, a few stray snowflakes curling off his shoulders as he alights gracefully atop the barrel. "Right then, good Ulif, esteemed onlookers, and frosty friends—prepare yourselves for a demonstration of true canine coordination!" He leans toward Ulif, whispering theatrically, "See, I’ve spent months training this lad with not but silent hand signs and half-frozen cheese biscuits. The dog doesn’t know Common but, by the gods, he knows dedication."

Then louder, for the group: "So tell me, truly—when was the last time your lead dog caused a whole team to sit under silent command while looking this good? And that tail curl? Precision-engineered. We practiced it on wind-sculpted ridges north of Kelvin’s Cairn. Pure poetry."

He begins twirling his fingers in a tight spiral motion above his head before flicking them outward in a flourish, mimicking a snowflake catching the wind. "Snowfang, rally your strays! Formation one!" His fingers snap downward in a swift zigzag motion, ending in a tight clenched fist held against his chest.

Snowfang-Aric responds accordingly, barking and padding over toward the unhitched dogs, who immediately perk up. They seem to pay attention to him. Jack grins, one brow arched with delight. "You see that? I do the hand gestures, and he’s not just barking at clouds—he’s issuing coordinated commands! All thanks to the Wimbley Snowpatter Silent Signal System™—patent pending, naturally."

He waves his hand in a slow arc above his head like drawing a crescent moon, then rapidly gestures with two fingers tapping the center of his palm three times before slicing downward. "Now then, Snowfang—synchronized group sit and tail curl, do as Wimbley taught you now, go on m'boy!" He waits for Snowfang and the dogs to settle into a precise line facing the rest of the caravan, tails curling just so.

Rolled a 19 (or 23 with advantage, if Aric-dog's cooperation counts as a Help action) on deception/persuasion check for this part of the interaction.
 
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