[Game Thread] Chapter 1: A Beautiful Mine (Cool Cats)

[Flying Fox]

Termalaine, Uktar 1490 DR Winter has come early to Icewind Dale, and picturesque Termalaine shivers in its grasp. Each day is shorter than the last: the fishermen haul in their lines by lamplight, for though Maer Dualdon never freezes over wholly it is a brave boatman indeed who sets out amongst the ice and storms that draw in with the darkness. Soon they will retire for the season, to grumble by firesides and tie new lines for spring, and to count and recount their dwindling stores of food. The Speaker's House Ralston Farnsley: your master, old Halbrook, has at this least auspicious time of year declared his intention to move. Easthaven no longer suits him, he claims - perhaps his old friend Shaelen knows of a property in the quieter northern towns that might do better? And so he dispatches you, his long-suffering pupil, to make inquiries on his behalf. Sparing no expense, he has secured the services of a musher from Lonelywood - recently finished with her last job in Easthaven - to accompany his apprentice. Rana Dulik: you are well used to odd commissions, but though the roads are getting bad surely even spindly Piper could manage this trek alone? Perhaps Halbrook is simply a doting master... or perhaps he is paying more for your bow-arm than your family's sled. The woods north of Termalaine can be dangerous, after all... Shaelen Masthew is a broad, friendly woman in late middle-age. She is also the former Speaker of Termalaine, and does not elaborate on her relationship to Halbrook except to inquire closely about his health. There's nothing here that would suit him, she fears: the people of Termalaine are prospering, and even the inns are full of mine workers. "Not that I can see old Halbrook bunking with the likes of them!" she chuckles, stoking up the fire. You are in the Speaker's House that she (still) shares with her son, the current speaker Oarus Masthew: warm and well-appointed, with a view over the docks. "Maybe in the spring... there's always a few who don't last the winter months, more's the pity. But even still, most houses round here go in families. Have you tried up in Lonelywood?" A commotion outside catches her attention, and she stares down through the (extravagantly large, in this climate) windows at a group of figures gathering on the docks. On one side is a tall, broad-shouldered man you think might be a half-orc and a number of smaller figures - halflings? gnomes? - while on the other are several men and women in armour. "Oh, my boy... what's the poor fool getting himself into now?" The Docks Eva Dale: you have come a long way from Lantan. A long, hard way, by carriage and by boat and now - for the last tenday or more - on foot. The Ten-Trail, which brought you north through the mountains, was arduous in particular, and would have been even more dangerous without a companion. The Trail lead you to Bryn Shander, where people fretted and bustled over the last caravans coming in or going out, and only wanted to talk about the condition of the roads. Staunch landlubbers to a man, it took careful questioning of the locals to learn that the town of Termalaine might furnish you with something more closely resembling a clue: Termalaine is the heart of the Ten-Towns shipbuilding industry, and the home of a number of notable carvers and carpenters besides. And so you pressed north... Leshanna Snowdrift: the land here is harsher than you might have guessed, and far more beautiful. The sleet and hail that had beset you on your passage through the mountains suddenly lifted as you came out onto the tundra, and green fire - the spectral lights the locals call 'Auril's Veil' - flickered into silent, otherworldly life overhead. You had come to the right place. Still... it is well that you took up with Eva. Great white cats stalked you over the pass, hunting in pairs, and you have no doubt that a solitary traveller would have been taken as prey. Her business has taken her further north, and you have accompanied her this far; intrigued to see the 'Lonely Wood', perhaps, or simply for a lack of any greater purpose. Auril's Veil burns noiselessly across the sky as you arrive in Termalaine, the night setting in even faster than expected. You are directed to the Blue Clam tavern on the waterfront, for news and directions and lodgings and food (the locals seem proud of it), but as you finally arrive you find your way blocked. A broad half-orc man stands outside the doorway, three nervous-looking kobolds lurking at his heels, squaring off with a group of chain-and-leather-armoured figures. "...have to help them!" snarls the half-orc, as you come within earshot. "With all due respect, Speaker, I command the militia," replies the woman at the head of the armoured group, calmly. "We have enough to be doing getting ready for winter, without risking life and limb for... outsiders. I won't give the order." The half-orc growls in frustration, and the impasse continues... right in the way of your dinner. OOC   Welcome to the game! I've dropped you all off mid-scene, and hopefully the reasons I've given for you all being there make sense and ring true for your characters. I'm certainly not above a sneaky retcon where necessary. Feel free to take any and all actions you think your characters might be inclined to, and ask any and all questions that occur to you, the players, in the OOC thread. And above all, have fun!

[Morathor]

Eva pulled her cloak tightly around her as she made her way towards the inn. The cold was a discomfort she could bear, but that didn't mean she relished it. It would be nice to get indoors--hopefully somewhere with a fire--if only for a night. Or even a few hours, if Eva found her purse too light to rent a room. She wondered if Leshanna would be willing to split the cost, but the elven woman hadn't shown too much interest in having a roof over her head. Or in much of anything, really, beyond the practicalities of having a traveling companion.

It was a good arrangement; safety in numbers extended not only to keeping away the wildlife but in sharing of food and water as needed, and the assurance that if someone was injured they had someone to turn to for assistance. On top of that, Leshanna possessed the rare gift of shutting up when there was nothing to say. They had passed the days mostly in comfortable silence, though Eva had to admit that the sound of another person's boots in the snow kept her grounded in the moment. She didn't like to think where her mind might have wandered if she'd had to make the trip alone.

By the time they reached the Blue Clam, the end of this leg of their journey, even Eva's feet were growing sore, and her bones were growing cold. In this moment, she wanted little more than to sit down and close her eyes for a few minutes. But, finding the entry way blocked by a gaggle of people, what she actually wanted more than anything was to start grabbing them and tossing them aside.

Instead of doing that, she pounded a fist against the wall of the inn to get their attention. "Whatever this is," she said, with a melodious lilt that may have seemed incongruous with her imposing form, "the doorway cannot be the place for it."

[47Ronin]

Leshanna Snowdrift Leshanna had been pleased with her travelling companion — a capable human woman of very few words. She had been even more pleased that they had not stopped in Bryn Shander. Too many people. And though she understood the walls to be a sensible defence against the obvious dangers of Icewind Dale, they also made the town feel like a prison. No, that was definitely not her place. Termalaine seemed little better, but at least there was no wall. And Leshanna liked the look of the houses, and the orange light that peaked out from window and under door. They stopped at something called "The Blue Clam". It seemed odd that this building, out of all the buildings in Termalaine, should have a name, but Eva assured her they could pay for food and a room there. Even Leshanna had to admit it would be nice to eat something other than conjured berries and trail rations. And her companion looked bone weary. The hubbub at the entry to the building confused Leshanna. Too many people, all talking at once. Her attention drifted away. She watched the fisherfolk on the docks, unloading their catch. She looked up at Auril's Veil and wondered — not for the first time — why it could be seen here and not in Neverwinter Woods, since other than that the night sky was the same night sky that graced her homeland. And she studied the little reptilian folk. She had not encountered their kind before, and she was always keen to expand her knowledge. At first glance they seemed timid to the point of weakness, but she knew that nothing truly weak survived for long. That must be especially true in these harsher northern climes. So there must be more to them than met the eye.

[mad_gondsman]

... "Oh, well..." Piper begins, fidgeting with his rather-large-rather-pointy hat as he attempts to stand fast in the assault of warm smiles, friendly banter, and genuine hospitality. "He's got this thing that's... It's more of a um..." he tries to explain, stumbling over words and gesturing vaguely at his neck. "It's... well I told him he needed to ahhhh... and he turned me into a uh... sheep. Piper pauses here to frown. "A dall sheep. For like an hour..." his voice trails off as he momentarily relives the unsettling experience, reaching up to rub at his forehead where horns might once have been. Then he suddenly remembers where he is and who he's speaking with. "He's doing alright! Rightest of alrights. So it was nothing! I think?" he finishes the nonsensical ramble by baring his teeth in the friendliest sort of manner he can muster. To Rana and their guest, it probably looks more like a wince. "This is for you!" he suddenly exclaims, dropping his hat to produce a viscous amber concoction within a wax-sealed jar from his coat pocket. "It's honey! Err, I am almost certain it's honey," he says, thrusting it toward Shaelen for her to accept. Or not. At Shaelen's report that there likely isn't anything suitable for Master Hallbrook, he sighs and nods appreciatively as the erstwhile speaker jokes of the old sage bunking with miners. "Oh no, ha! He's um. He likes to walk around in his robe at night without tying it... and it uh... no, no. And he doesn't much like sharing," he continues, casting a glance to Rana as if hoping that she will help save him from this kind and wonderful woman that he has no idea how to speak to, apparently. For while he desperately tries to make small-talk, his mind spirals deeper and farther into a cringe-induced madness with every passing moment: "Blood and briars, I've never spoken to a Speaker before. Or she was a Speaker. Does that mean she's a Spoken? Was I supposed to genuflect? Did I grab the right jar from Hallbrook's table!? Oh gods, I can't be responsible for incinerating a Spoken before we even set up shop! Wait, what am I doing with my hands? Why do I keep holding them out like I'm carrying an invisible bundle of firewood?!" When Spoken Shaelen is distracted by the ruckus outside and moves to have a look, Piper lets out a whoosh of air and desperately seizes upon Rana's arm, silently-but-urgently pleading with her to do something - anything - to make him stop talking!

[Snicker]

Rana https://www.deviantart.com/len-yan Rana Dulik | Character sheet | Character page | AC: 14 | HP: 12 / 12 | Hit dice: 1 / 1d10 | Insight: 12 Investigation: 11 Perception: 14Passive senses | Rustic Hospitality Archery combat style Second wind: 1 / 1 Features | None Passed death saves: 0 / 3 Failed death saves: 0 / 3Conditions | Common DwarvishLanguages Rana flinches and reflexively jerks her arm away from Piper, giving him an annoyed look. She'd allowed her mind to wander, seeing as she had nothing to contribute to the conversation anyway, and his sudden invasion of her space had surprised her. She'd been lost in thought about Piper's claim that Halbrook had turned him into a sheep for an hour, wondering first if he'd been serious or joking, and then pondering what it would be like to be a sheep for an hour. Was it his mind in a sheep's body? she thought. That wouldn't be so bad; it would provide a different perspective on the world, one she couldn't achieve herself. Did he have a sheep's mind, too? If so, did the sheep remember being a man? Wouldn't a sheep be content to be a sheep? Was Piper just unhappy to have his body transformed against his will? Was that something Rana could even understand? Her momentary look of irritation disappears when she sees Piper's distress. She doesn't know why he's so distressed - Shaelen seems like a lovely woman to her - but she knows his anxieties can get the better of him, and she figures it's only decent she do something to help. "Lonelywood's a fine enough place," she says, latching onto one of the latter things Shaelen said. "Quieter than here or Easthaven, for sure. We tend to keep to ourselves, mostly, if that's what he's after." She gives Piper a look from the corner of her eye. "He'll have to avoid turning anyone into sheep, though." She's still not sure if he was joking or not, so she hedges her bets with a poker face and neutral voice. She follows Shaelen's gaze to the window. Maybe she can direct the attention there while Piper regains his composure. Leaning over, she takes in the standoff before glancing at Shaelen. "Which fool?"

[Flying Fox]

The Speaker's House "My son," says Spoken Shaelen with a sigh, turning away from the window. She quirks an eyebrow at Rana as their eyes meet. "Though your point is well-taken, girl. I dare say there's a few fools down there. I'm only responsible for the big one, though - the current Speaker Masthew." She lumbers back over to the table, tilting the jar of honey Piper had so nervously presented to her so that the firelight shone through it. She studies Rana carefully, eyes glittering in her homely, unassuming, frontierswoman face. Then she turns back to the wizard. "Really, so good of you to bring me this little gift. Halbrook did say you were a good boy... I wish I could do more to help! I suppose I could ask around - maybe send a letter up to my old friend Rana would certainly think of Nimsy Huddle, Lonelywood's Speaker, and Piper might recognise the name.Nimsy in Lonelywood... ah, but poor Oarus really can't get much done without me." She spares Rana another sly glance, before returning to the attack. "I should be going down to the Clam now, to see what trouble's he mixed up in now. Out into the cold, at my age... oh, but Piper! Maybe you could be a dear and run down there for me!" She presses Piper's hand in supplication, the gesture only somewhat undermined by the firmness of her grip." "Halbrook did say what a good boy you always were! And then I could just sit here by the fire and see if I can't do something for him, instead..."

The Docks The big half-orc's head snaps round at the sound, and he turns his furious glare upon Eva. The guardsmen or militia start - one actually drops his spear - but their leader appears unruffled. "Traveller," she replies, coolly, "please forgive the inconvenience. Our business here is concluded." She glances round at her subordinates, who make a token attempt to come to attention, and begins lead them off down the street. As the little squadron passes Eva, however, she takes a moment to murmur: "Do be sure to mind your manners, traveller, while you are a guest in my town." "Captain Lowell!" growls the half-orc, fists clenched, but she is already setting a brisk pace away from the docks, troopers at her heels. He turns back to the two newcomers, still clearly enraged... and then, quite visibly, masters his anger. He exhales deeply, several times, and you get the distinct impression that he is counting to ten under his breath. "Ladies! Welcome to Termalaine! Sorry about all that - please, come in! And let me buy you a meal to make up for it! The Blue Clam's the best place in town, you know!" The half-orc man sweeps open the door and steps aside to usher you both in, giving every impression of genuine gallantry... _______ Leshanna - you have been watching the kobolds. Small and skinny and constantly twitching about, they certainly seem rather frail. Although they're not much bundled up, despite the bitter cold. And... you notice that they did not start at Eva's rather forceful introduction. Despite the two of you (and, indeed, the half-orc) standing fully twice as tall as the tallest of them, they do not seem particularly troubled by your presence: they scamper aside as the tavern door is opened for you, and continue to twitch and sniff at the wind...

OOC You may feel inspired to roll some checks here - as a general rule I'm going to say that you're all free to call your own checks, should you want to do something beyond what I've explicitly asked for. I gather this is frowned upon at some IRL tables, but I think it makes sense for PbP. If you're ever in doubt about what might apply, ask OOC and I'll try to get back speedily, but we can always just use a different modifier with your roll should problems arise. Rolls can be made either in-post or in the dicey rolling thread (in which latter case it'd be helpful to link your roll somewhere in your game thread post). I don't have a preference so long as I can find the number!

[47Ronin]

Leshanna Snowdrift Leshanna swivelled, watching the armoured folk march off. 'Ragtag' was the word that came to mind. 'Skittish' was another. She could not remember ever having dropped a weapon, not even as a young child learning swordplay and archery from her father. Of course, she had routinely been disarmed by him, but that was just a matter of the difference in skill and strength, not carelessness on her part. At the mention of 'the best place in town', Leshanna's attention snapped back to the half-orc. The best place in town? The best place? By what criteria was it considered the best? She was no expert in these matters, but the Blue Clam did not seem to be of superior construction, although it did seem larger than the other buildings she'd seen. Is that how things were judged? Still, it didn't seem worth debating, especially since the half-orc had also made mention of free food, and Leshanna was both hungry and lacking in coin. She wondered if he would claim that it was the best food in town, too. "You must... umm... be very proud." The half-orc's gesture was unmistakable, and she was about to enter when the behaviour of the little, reptilian folk fully registered. It was not unlike the behaviour of certain animals when they sense danger, or a change in the weather. She stepped back from the doorway and Perception or Survival check 10gave a tentative sniff, to see if she could smell anything. Unfortunately, the only thing she could smell was the freshly-caught fish being unloaded at the docks. Frowning slightly, Leshanna drew upon her magic — Druidcraft cantrip. You create a tiny, harmless sensory effect that predicts what the weather will be like at you location for the next 24 hours. The effect might manifest as a golden orb for clear skies, a cloud for rain, falling snowflakes for snow, and so on. This effect persists for 1 round.a minor magic that told her of the prevailing weather for the next 24 hours. "Spirits of this place," she whispered under her breath. "Spirits of cold, of snow, of ice. Please heed my call."

OOC   | Leshanna Snowdrift | Wood Elf | Druid | Level 1 | | HP: 9/9 | AC: 14 | HD: 1d8/1d8 | Speed: 35 | <Ability Scores> Str:10(0) Dex:15(+2) Con:12(+1) Int:14(+2) Wis:16(+3) Cha:8(-1) <Weapons> Wielded: Scimitar, +4 attack, 1d6+2 damage Carried: Shortbow, +4 attack, 1d6+2 damage, 20/20 arrows <Skills> Animal Handling:+5 Nature:+4 Perception:+5 Stealth:+4 Survival:+5 Acrobatics:+2 Arcana:+2 Athletics:+0 Deception:-1 History:+2 Insight:+3 Intimidation:-1 Investigation:+2 Medicine:+3 Performance:-1 Persuasion:-1 Religion:+2 Sleight of Hand:+2 <Spells> Cantrips: Druidcraft, Guidance Level 1: Animal Friendship, Goodberry, Longstrider, Speak With Animals <Saves> Str:0 Dex:+2 Con:+1 Int:+4 Wis:+5 Cha:-1

[Snicker]

Rana https://www.deviantart.com/len-yan Rana Dulik | Character sheet | Character page | AC: 14 | HP: 12 / 12 | Hit dice: 1 / 1d10 | Insight: 12 Investigation: 11 Perception: 14Passive senses | Rustic Hospitality Archery combat style Second wind: 1 / 1 Features | None Passed death saves: 0 / 3 Failed death saves: 0 / 3Conditions | Common DwarvishLanguages Rana wonders whether she should admit that she hadn't intended that point at all, and had just used the word "which" when she should have used "what". She decides against it. As Shaelen studies her, Rana looks back without expression; she's not sure exactly what Shaelen is looking at, but she knows to respect her elders, and figures someone as elder as Shaelen - and a former speaker, no less - has a reason for what she's doing. If she thinks Rana has an agenda regarding Halbrook and Lonelywood, she's mistaken; Rana doesn't know enough about the man to have an opinion on him, and she's neither for or against another soul moving into town. The people of Lonelywood keep out of their neighbours' business. As Shaelen turns her attention to Piper, Rana looks out the window. Whatever is going on out there seems to have resolved itself - temporarily, at least. Indeed, the large man is now welcoming travelers into the Blue Clam. She squints at the small figures around his feet. The longer she looks, she more she's sure they're neither gnomes nor halflings. Their body langauge is weird, almost animal-like. Despite her attention being directed outside the house, Rana picks up on Shaelen's implication. She wants us out of here. Fine by Rana; it'll allow her to satisfy her curiosity, anyway. As for Piper, she's sure he'll welcome the opportunity to escape what is clearly a stressful situation for him. She's just not sure if he's already too stresed to see it. "That's okay, ma'am, we'll figure it out," Rana says. She crosses the room to her coat and putting it on. It'll be a short trip to the Clam, but at this time of the year, just stepping out the door unprotected is an ugly experience. She sweeps her hair over her shoulders, collecting it in her hands, and directs it straight down her back before placing the coat over it. "Piper's real smart. Why, I bet he'll get it all fixed up before we even get back. Right, Piper?" Piper may have kept his hat on indoors, but Rana has to grab hers. She places it on her head and tugs down on the ear flaps, making sure it's secure, before stepping into her boots and watching Piper for his response.

[mad_gondsman]

The Good Boy When Spoken Shaelen turns back to him, his eyes bug and he purses his lips as if trying to hold in the foolish words practically beating on the back of his teeth to be released. Something she says, however, puts him on his heels: "Halbrook did say you were a good boy..." "Wait, are you sure he said that? You saw his mouth shape those exact words and they were received without any misunderstanding by your own two working ears?" he bends over to pick up his hat, just narrowly avoiding banging his head on the table where the we-hope-it's-honey sat. He's so caught up in those words - good boy - that he almost yelps in surprise when he finds Spoken Shaelen standing close enough to actually touch him! "Good old, Nipsy! Pshht, we go way back," Piper echoes with a nervous chuckle and a glance at Rana as Shaelen holds his hand in her own. "Well we could go down there - wait you just said it again. Are... are you sure you actually heard Halbrook say that?" he begins to argue. But then he hears Rana give him an out and he politely but firmly extracts himself from Spoken Shaelen's grasp while babbling some half-intelligible thanks as he fumbles with his scarf and pulls his oversized wizard's hat down securely upon his head. "Thank you, Spoken Shaelen! Off we go... to the Bluuuuue Oyster!" he says, blindly mimicking Rana's confidence as they prepare to leave. "Yep, I too will bet something of little-to-no monetary value that he will sort it out in no time," he says with a forced chuckle. "Who are you talking about? Is Nipsy out there?" he whispers to Rana as they approach the door...

[Morathor]

Eva rolled her eyes at the guardswoman's chastisement. Got some nerve talking to me about manners, learn some yourself first. But since the woman was moving, it was not worth picking a fight over. The higher priority was getting inside and sitting down. Which she did, about as promptly as she was able, though she tried not to push past the man now welcoming them in and offering them a meal.

"...this your place, then?" She couldn't really tell if the man was the proprietor, or just trying to make a good impression. She wasn't sure if it mattered right now. Normally she wouldn't stand for that sort of compensation as an apology--the apology should be the apology, and things cost what they cost. But given the state of her coin purse, she was in no shape to pass up a free meal.

She settled into a seat, and wished she could rest--but she had work to do, and she might as well get started. In particular, the presence of the "outsiders," as the rude woman had called them, gave Eva an opportunity to cast a wider net than she might otherwise have had the chance to. So, setting her pack down at her feet, she dug out pen and paper and began to sketch.

Her drawings were more clinical than artistic, the sort of sketches she would make when drafting a design. In this case, though, the design was one she had first drafted some fifteen years ago, one she had re-imagined and redesigned a dozen times over the years it took her to build the rest of the ship. The angelic figure started to take shape quickly on the page.

[Flying Fox]

The Docks Leshanna - your unfamiliarity with kobolds makes their behaviour Perception check: 10difficult to parse. Are these the nervous tendencies of a vulnerable prey species, or the calm appraisals of a pack of predators? You're able to rule out an oncoming change in the weather, at least: a few flakes of snow drift across your path as you call upon the spirits, but no more than that. Druidcraft Weather Forecast: light wind, clear skies, little-to-no precipitation. Still winter.Tomorrow should be cold and clear. ...one thing you do notice, however, is that the kobolds seem at least as interested in you as you are in them. In fact they're studying you intently, turning their long snouts to gaze at you with first one golden eye and then the other. The foremost murmurs something to its fellows, and they fall into discussion in a grating, sibilant tongue DC 10 Intelligence check for anyone who doesn't speak it already.you may recognize as Draconic. The discussion grows increasingly animated, and the half-orc man holding the door grows visibly less patient by the second. Eva is already inside unpacking her drawing things when he manages to usher them - politely - across the threshold, and the chorus of complaints from the fishermen inside the tavern is getting louder each moment. Finally (after what must have been more than a minute) he snaps. "Stow your BLOODY oars!" he bellows (scattering the three kobolds, at last, into the warmth of the Blue Clam). "One more squeak out of YOU, Corlen, you fish-sucking son of a - oh, excuse me..." Rana and Piper: braving the rimey way down to the tavern, you have just arrived to be met by a bellowing fool Speaker, Oarus Masthew, who seems on the point of slamming the door in your faces until he catches sight of Rana's (well-bundled-up though it is). "Please - after you!" he says, far more gently (and gritting his tusks only slightly at the renewed catcalling from within). He holds the door wide once more (for Rana, and by extension Piper).

The Blue Clam The Blue Clam is low-ceilinged but pleasantly warm and well-lit: most of its patrons are crowded amiably onto the benches drawn up to the several long hearths that dominate the room. Simmering cauldrons of something thick and creamy yellow are set over each hearth, and Speaker Masthew (amiable once more, after cuffing one laughing fisherman in particular off his bench) nods to the barkeep (another half-orc, though far more rotund) and gestures to the newcomers. "Bowls for my guests!" He takes a chair opposite Eva's and leans back in it, smiling. "Not my place, as such, but everyone knows me round here. I'm Oarus Masthew, Speaker of Termalaine. That basically means that I'm in charge," he adds with a wink. "Must help uss!" interjects a kobold, leaping up onto the table (making the Speaker start almost off his seat). They seem to have made up their minds about Leshanna, for another tugs at her sleeve and croaks plaintively. The third appears to have identified Rana as another potential ally, and is holding up a small, brightly-coloured stone for her inspection. "Monster! Monster from the deep!" "Trex not well! Leader - lose all reason! Lose speech!" "The White Witch!" This last thickly-accented plea is directed squarely at Leshanna. The kobold in question points a claw at her, repeatedly, as if trying to convey something. "White... Witch." "...yes," mutters Masthew, regaining his balance. "Well. There's, uh... some sort of trouble at the mines."

OOC Four adventurers, three kobolds and a politician walk into a bar - stop me if you've heard this one...

[Snicker]

Rana https://www.deviantart.com/len-yan Rana Dulik | Character sheet | Character page | AC: 14 | HP: 12 / 12 | Hit dice: 1 / 1d10 | Insight: 12 Investigation: 11 Perception: 14Passive senses | Rustic Hospitality Archery combat style Second wind: 1 / 1 Features | None Passed death saves: 0 / 3 Failed death saves: 0 / 3Conditions | Common DwarvishLanguages "Nimsy," Rana whispers back as they step outside. She shuts the door before saying anything else, but even then, speaks quietly. "She means Nimsy Huddle, the speaker for Lonelywood. And no, she's not here...I think." She says the last part with some uncertainty. "She's probably making cookies in her own kitchen. I bet you'd get some if you went and talked to her." Her attention is pulled away from Piper when Oarus yells at his small companions - definitely not halflings or gnomes - to get inside the Blue Clam. Though she doesn't break stride, she pulls her coverings away from her face even as she approaches the door, trying to give Oarus a look at her face. She looks concerned, but not judgmental (she hopes). She's about to ask the speaker what's going on, but then figures he's held the door open for long enough and steps inside again. No reason they can't discuss this where it's warm. It feels silly, stripping off the cold weather gear so soon after putting it on. By the time she has her coat off, she identifies the small creatures as kobolds - which is obvious, in retrospect. She knows there are kobolds living here. As one holds up a stone for her inspection, she reaches out and takes it (slowly; she doesn't want to spook the kobold) and turns it over in her hand, Rana inspects the stone, not just to identify it but to determine why the kobold is showing it to her. Dice Intelligence (Investigation) check: 1d20+1 (20)+1 Total = 21 inspecting it. "What am I looking at, here?" she asks the kobold, looking down past the stone at their reptilian face.

[47Ronin]

Leshanna Snowdrift Leshanna Intelligence check 21recognised the language the little reptilian folk were speaking amongst themselves as Draconic. One of her teachers in the Ring of Swords spoke it a little, though he never revealed where he'd learnt it. Leshanna never bothered with it herself. There were far more useful languages for a druid to learn. Druidic, of course. Elven. Sylvan. But there was one phrase that had stuck in her head, and she decided to try it out. She followed the half-orc into the Blue Clam and watched the little reptilian folk closely. They seemed very agitated, and she found their speech difficult to follow. Was this 'white witch' herself, or some adversary? She wasn't sure she wanted to become involved, particularly if it involved a mine. Mines were hardly her area of expertise. But she was curious. Professionally curious. If there were many of these little reptilian folk in Icewind Dale, it would pay to know more about them. She waited until everyone had done talking before she spoke. "Drem yol lok," she said sombrely, not really knowing its exact meaning, just that it was supposed to be The literal translation is 'peace fire sky.' The more useful translation is something like 'I come in peace, let us suspend hostilities.' This makes more sense when you imagine two ancient dragons meeting.a greeting of some sort. "I am not a witch," she continued in Common, "but a druid. We are guardians of nature. What are you called? I have not met your kind before." It occurred to her that this was the longest speech she had made in months.

OOC   | Leshanna Snowdrift | Wood Elf | Druid | Level 1 | | HP: 9/9 | AC: 14 | HD: 1d8/1d8 | Speed: 35 | <Ability Scores> Str:10(0) Dex:15(+2) Con:12(+1) Int:14(+2) Wis:16(+3) Cha:8(-1) <Weapons> Wielded: Scimitar, +4 attack, 1d6+2 damage Carried: Shortbow, +4 attack, 1d6+2 damage, 20/20 arrows <Skills> Animal Handling:+5 Nature:+4 Perception:+5 Stealth:+4 Survival:+5 Acrobatics:+2 Arcana:+2 Athletics:+0 Deception:-1 History:+2 Insight:+3 Intimidation:-1 Investigation:+2 Medicine:+3 Performance:-1 Persuasion:-1 Religion:+2 Sleight of Hand:+2 <Spells> Cantrips: Druidcraft, Guidance Level 1: Animal Friendship, Goodberry, Longstrider, Speak With Animals <Saves> Str:0 Dex:+2 Con:+1 Int:+4 Wis:+5 Cha:-1

[mad_gondsman]

D'oh! Originally Posted by Rana "She means Nimsy Huddle, the speaker for Lonelywood. And no, she's not here...I think." She says the last part with some uncertainty. "She's probably making cookies in her own kitchen. I bet you'd get some if you went and talked to her." Piper follows Rana out into the snow and almost immediately loses his footing as a blast of freezing wind startles him into misplacing his foot within a snowdrift to the side of Spoken Shaelen's stoop. With a grunt, he pulls his foot out of the drift and gives it a shake, muttering a Prestidigitized!short incantation to expel the cold and damp from within his boot. "OoOooOoOooooooh," he remarks, now seeing his error as he stumbles back onto the beaten path, following in Rana's wake with one hand holding his hat in place and the other keeping his coat closed against the cold. Mention of a warm cookie makes his stomach growl like a tundra yeti, and he realizes he hasn't eaten since they left Easthaven. Fortuitous that they're on their way to see about some fools at what appears to be a tavern... Once inside, Piper snaps the lapels of his coat and punctuates it with a word which knocks the snow from his clothes, keeping him as warm as can be in these inhospitable conditions. He is looking around, paying particular attention to the kobolds when he sees one scurry up to Rana, offering up a stone for her inspection. Dice Insight: 1d20+4 (4)+4 Total = 8 He takes a moment to parse through their excited chatter and glances to the "white witch" before engaging them. "Fekiikiri, turnokka sunè,""Greetings, scaly not-foes," translated from Draconic.† he says, his curiosity at this novel encounter out-duking any anxiety he might otherwise experience in these sorts of social circumstances. "Jaciv yenta tivvy coz'ross...""She says she isn't a witch, by the way."†

[Morathor]

Eva listened closely to the very animated conversations--sketches like this didn't take much concentration, not unless she was trying to solve some puzzle, accomodate some unusual need of space and shape. She couldn't follow things when people started lapsing into what sounded like draconic, but whenever they returned to more common tongues, she paid attention. And there was one phrase that held her attention.

"Monster from the deep!"

She was looking for information, not just on the figurehead, but on the hoarde it had been recovered from. Eva knew of horrors that lurked in the deep sea, and the lakes here looked big enough to accomodate some monstrosities of their own. Could something have come from the sea and made its home here? Maybe expanded into the mine--sea monsters were bad enough, but some of them were not content to ruin the water and found ways to trouble the land as well.

Of course, that probably wasn't it. She was grasping at straws. But straws were all she had, and this one, at least, might have been in her grasp.

"I hate to interrupt," she said, looking at the kobold that had mentioned monsters. "It sounds like you're having some trouble, and I'm not opposed to helping if I can." Not that she was confident in her ability to do that, but she could certainly try. "But in exchange, I'd like a little information. Even if all you can tell me is you don't know anything, it might help me to rule some things out." Ruling things out was still part of the investigation.

And to be honest, making connections was valuable. Even if none of these creatures knew anything, they might know somebody who knew something. And if they didn't, well, they knew the Speaker. He was a man of some authority--the highest authority in town, as she understood the position. If he was invested in helping these kobolds, then maybe she could get on his good side. Maybe his connections would lead her fingers to the next straw.