D&D 5E Leif's First 5E Homebrew In-Character Thread 1A


As we begin our story, you have each, for reasons of your own, seen fit to be living, visiting, or loitering in the town of Stone Mill, a pretty tiny Hamlet. The nearest town of respectable size is Silverton, located two days' journey along the road leaving Stone Mill to the east. There is a roadside inn at about the halfway point called The Griffon's Head. To the west of Stone Mill, the road crosses the Icy Ford River, and then enters hill country. It winds a bit going generally west, and just on the opposite bank of the Blue River is the even smaller frontier town of Red Wall. You are all aware that the towns in this region have been having a slight problem with bandits for the last few months. It has not seemed to be too bad to you, but apparently the local magistrates are growing increasingly nervous about it.

Of more concern to you immediately, is the proclamation issued by the two high priests of Stone Mill, who serve in the temples of Oghma and Diancecht. It seems that the wife of the Mayor of Stone Mill has been abducted. Three days ago, a ransom demand was issued by a Dwarven bandit. The ransom demanded is three large diamonds. Now, it is common knowledge that one large diamond is worn set in the ring of the Mayor of Stone Mill, and that another one is worn on a pendant around the neck of the wife of the High Priest of Oghma. If there is a third such diamond in or around Stone Mill, its owner is not advertising its presence.

The two High Priests of Stone Mill, as previously stated, have issued a proclamation seeking for adventurers to deal with this situation. No specific monetary reward has been mentioned, but it has been suggested that favorable mention will be made of any such successful adventurers to the Earl of Silverton and thence to the King. [Oh, one more thing, each pc has come to learn that the name "Silverton" has nothing to do with any supposed precious metal located there, but is actually a corruption of the original name, Sylvan Town. There is a relatively large population of elves in Silverton, and perhaps even more in the surrounding forests.]

The Game is Underway! Proceed at your discretion.

Link to RG
Link to OOC
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Stone Mill

The tavern had cleared a bit of open space for the new minstrel that had come to Stone Mill from Silverton. Some whispered tales of the Winter Witch, others of the Snow Singer, depending on their views of magic. The young woman couldn’t be more than twenty. She was long-legged and willowy, a dancer’s build. Her long red hair hung free down her back, streaked with white. She blew a strand out of her blue eyes. Her skin was pale and her feet bare. Whispers went through the crowd. Her skirt was scandalously short, and the decolletage low, revealing a pale blue tattoo of a snowflake above her breast. A diamond pendant hung there between her breasts.

The crowd grew quiet as she stepped into the open area and she put her violin up to her chin. The silence hung for a moment before bow touched strings. The music was haunting as first, tugging at the emotions. Then it sped up and the young woman stepped out, dancing to the music as she played, evoking memories of fast sleigh rides over deep winter snows.

As she danced, the air began to sparkle slightly, a light fall of snow around the young woman. Patrons gasped, some tittering in approval, a bit of light applause, others murmuring about magic.

As the song ended, the minstrel smiled and nodded before setting out a bowl for patrons to express their pleasure at the performance.


Later Risia sat in the room she had been given for changing. The coins she had earned were stacked up on the edge of the table and her dress laid out on the bed. She stood only in her undergarments as she looked out at the summer sun over the small hamlet. She pressed her hand to the window and tendrils of frost spread over the glass. She sighed, wishing for winter to return, for the cold touch of the Prince of Frost once more.

But that part of her life was over. All she was left with now were his gifts -- and a bit of his power.

Risia turned back to the bed. She pulled on a set of sensible traveler’s clothes and then her leathers. It was embroidered with white frost patterns in shiny silvery thread that caught the light like glittering frost. After tugging on her boots, she grabbed her gear and headed down to the common room again to mingle with the locals.

The talk in town was all about a bandit that had kidnapped the mayor’s wife and demanding three large diamonds in ransom. There was a notice on the board for adventurers to deal with the problem.

“Ale,” Risia ordered. She considered her financial situation. Even though no reward was posted, she didn’t doubt there would be some valuable compensation. “Thank you,” Risia said, flashing the barkeep a smile and sipping at her ale. She would have to look into this.

It was late afternoon, down the main street a rugged looking figure held himself aloft with his Warhammer. On his back a dufflebag with several candle's, a censer and a shield bearing a large crest of a Mallet over a Sword. wearing a worn chain vest from which on the side hangs a eleboratly decorated drinking tankard.
the person in question, a dwarf, standing about 4'5" tall, well builded and well aged. with bright red hair and braided beard streaked with grey-silver hairs.

passers by could hear him grumble as he walks by them. "Bloody Temple.... damned long trip.... damned bandits."
He eventually reached the temple of Oghma. apparantly his higher up was indebted for some reason with the High Priest of the temple of Oghma, and had recently called it in. The only information Fiftheach got though was that he needed to make haste because of a current kidnapping. In fairness he had no idea what was going on, nor did that matter to him at the current time. the thing that mattered most now, was getting a good drink.

Fiftheach walked up to the front door and slammed it with his fist, "Is anybody in there?! this is Fiftheach Featherbrew! Cleric of Goibhniu! I have been come to acquire a Good Drink!... he remained silent for a few seconds "Ow... and to offer my services in a certain dire situation!"


Temple of Oghma

When Fiftheach Featherbrew slams his fist against the door of the Temple of Oghma, it swings inward silently, revealing a dimly lit anteroom with a doorway across from the front door hung with heavy dark blue curtains. The curtains are partially open, revealing a large open space on the other side of the doorway, but no other details are visible to Fiftheach Featherbrew from his present vantage point. He may have heard some sounds of soft rustling emanating from that direction, but the sound was too subdued for him to be totally certain.
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Stone Mill Tavern

When Risia Kalvesim finished her ale and her payment was politely refused by the barkeeper as he refilled her mug without being asked, a few of the field hands in the common room called out to her, asking for more songs. The barkeeper says, "It's been awhile since we had a musician of any real talent. Yer'll drink for free tonight, and yer welcome to as much hot stew and fresh bread as yer wish."

OOC: Information on tips received for her song, and the small problem with her instrument, is in the OOC Thread.
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Curious that he hadn't gotten a response Fiftheach slowly walked towards the Blue curtains on the other side of the room. Grabbing his Warhammer just a little thighter.

" 'Ello? Anyone in here?



Stone Mill

“Thank you kindly, good sir,” Risia said, giving the innkeeper a smile. She turned back to her eager admirers. “Alas, I must restring my bow,” she said. “But give me a moment.” She pulled her fiddle out and worked to fix the string. She might do a smaller dance number, since she had changed out of her costume. Her leathers were supple and easy to move in, but nothing like the costumes, and less revealing than the last one she wore, though not all her costumes were such. She had one for more formal occasions, and another that was more modest and every day. Of course, her short, low cut dress often brought in the most coin.

But the armor was special, given to her by the Prince of Frost, like the pendant and the small wand sheathed at her waist beside her dagger. Both were made of never melting ice, and the silver thread in the frost pattern of her white armor was actually frost. She pulled out his other gift, a small cube of ice, each face dyed a different color. She had no idea what the little trinket was or meant, only that it never melted, touched by the great archfey’s power.

When her violin was ready, Risia put bow to strings again. Thinking of her Prince, Risia changed tunes. The melody was slow, haunting, and instead of dancing, she sang. She sang of the cold loneliness of winter, of a love that melted a frozen heart, and of that love lost. She felt the magic weave through the melody, the touch of her Prince’s power. It started to snow lightly in the warm tavern room. Her breath became visible, and the tears that dusted her cheeks froze on her pale skin. Snow Singer or Winter Witch, one couldn’t help be moved.

As the song ended, a chunk of bread from someone’s dinner flew out of the crowd and bounced off of Risia’s forehead. She blinked, shaken out of the moment, blue eyes going wide as she stared at a big farmer.

“Bah! If we let the Winter Witch play, she’ll jus’ be bringin’ winter early, b’fore we can get all the harvest in!”

“Gerry! Siddown, ye donkey’s arse! Yeh treat ‘er bad, she will bring it early! She can hold off winter just as well as bring it, if yeh treat ‘er right!”

Someone yanked Gerry down by the belt back into his seat, and he slumped sullenly.

Not everyone appreciated magic, and Risia had carefully cultivated her reputation.

“My thanks,” she said to her defender, flashing him a flirtatious smile. “My hero.” The tears melted on her cheeks, and she wiped them away.


Action: Performance: 1D20+5 = [9]+5 = 14
Bonus Action:
Free Object Interaction:

HP: 10/10
AC: 13

Cantrips: Eldritch Blast, Prestidigitation
L1 (1/1): Faerie Fire, Sleep


Harald cleans his table and bench for the 10th time with some minor magic, still not happy he sets down a doily and cleans that just for good measure. This place was disgusting the dust everywhere, oh and the smell was unbearable stale ale and the worst smell of all common people. Heaven forbid if some one of rank found him in here.

Harald's suspicions are confirmed when they call for a encore from that harlot earlier even after she messed everything up, strange do looks really trump talent? Harald has a lot to learn apparently especially when he learns magic isn't welcome.

Enough sitting around that silly women was hogging the stage and we'll everyone knows the world revolves around me. Harald pulls out his ornate silver flute from his pack the ornate silver leaves decorating it glint in the light of the fire, tying up his long brown hair he very politely barges the cheap hussy out the way and begins to play the 18th symphony by Mozzarella Houndpack. Bringing culture to savages should be Harald's good deed for the day, hopefully he could spot some heroic adventures while he played.

OOC: [roll0]
Let's hope there isn't any dust in this flute wouldn't want to look a fool

After morning prayers to Oghma, the wood elf gathers her small pack of belongings and says her goodbyes to a few of the acolytes of the temple. She walks a short distance from the edge of the town to bathe in the waters of the Icy Ford. Afterward, she lays down on the ground face up to the sky, arms and legs out to the sides to dry and to give thanks to Belenus, god of the sun, her patron. After a period of prayer, she gets dressed and returns to town.

As she approaches the packed earth and cobbled roads, she puts on her sandals as she meanders through the town. A loud thumping at a door near the temple she just left catches her attention. A dwarf in chainmail adorned with an unrecognized symbol is cautiously entering the temple. Curious, she follows him in. As he calls out to inner chamber and gets no response she whispers in Dwarven, "There should be someone here to greet us, friend."
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"Bloody..!" Clearly starteled Fiftheach spins around and prepaires to swing his warhammer at the sudden voice behind him. When he sees it came from a elven lass he relaxes, somewhat, stowing his warhammer on his back and pulling out grabbing his Tankard.
He then replies in Dwarvish "Yes, there should, which is why I'm abit causious."

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