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Old Nov 26th, 2019, 04:53 AM
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Captain Reis"A paladin is it? Well, gathered as much", Captain Reyes says with a wry smirk on her face. "Regardless, I think you can help us. You see, something was stolen from us. And we'd like to have it back."

The woman takes the seat next to Shamira. "It's a wagon load of weapons. It was supposed to resupply our company. We have witnesses who saw one of the Gur, fellow called Kehkim, drive away with the carriage. He was seen heading in the direction of Thar, due East of here. Nothing that way other than a ruined fortress. Rumours are, it is now occupied by orcs. If I were riding away with a wagon full of weapons, that's a place I'd likely go to try and make a trade. It's about twelve hours journey from here."

The captain looks around the the common room, ending at the table of her colleagues. They are looking at her. She turns to the paladin once again. "Look, we can't leave our station and go hunting for the Gur. So I would like you to find the missing ordinance and get it back. Along with the thief, if you can. In return for a fair reward, of course. See, I am something of a mercenary myself. How does a hundred and fifty gold sound? Sounds plenty fair to me. Ah, and the weapons are for safeguarding poor innocent villagers from bandits and such. Shouldn't fall in the hands of orcs, yadda yadda. In case you need some kind of moral reason. I don't know how paladins work. Never have." She shrugs.

"I'd suggest you enlist the assistance of a few other adventurers. We don't know what kind of numbers they have, but if you are to go up against a stronghold of orcs, you will need help." The soldier motions with her brows towards Horryn at the next table. "You might want to start with him."

Lady MagdeleneLady Magdelene Lliadon listens intently to Abel's tale, just like Bran. The cleric finds deep empathy within himself for the forlorn fighter. The monkey occasionally chirps, but its mistress sushes it, saying "Not now, Cornelius!"

At length, the fighter is finished. Silence lingers over the table for a while. Then the lady speaks up. "That was quite the story, Abel. I am sorry all thar happened to you. It is very unfortunate. I want to help you. I'd like to help you. Alas, right at this moment, I am missing something that would allow me to."

With a deep sigh, Magdelene continues. "What transpired with your beloved is beyond the purview of my knowledge. I mean, I know how summonings and possessions work. But to reverse something like that... What I am though, is gifted with visions of what is, and what will be. Perhaps that could afford some clue. But to do that, I need my crystal ball. Unfortunately, it was stolen recently. A young Gur boy named Hricu took it, and disappeared like the rest of his clan. I know where the ball is, for I can track its location. If you can get it back to me, perhaps I can help you. I'm not sure what Hricu wanted with it. I thought he and I had made something of friendship while this fog kept us here."

The elven mage looks at the local gathered in the inn and says, "Of course, the others here would say it was in his nature to steal. But I don't believe that. I talked to the Gur quite a bit when they were staying in the Inn and they seemed... scared, if anything. This fog is unnatural, and I think they knew it. Their leader, a woman by the name of Sybil, she kept to herself while here and seemed to be waiting for something... I'm not sure what they are playing at with their sudden resort to thievery. I suspect they may know something we don't. I have a bad feeling about this fog. They could be valuable as allies. If you do go after them, I'd suggest bringing them back to the inn, alive. At the very least, they should be given the option to answer for their crimes in a fair and just manner. That is what I think."

Gormur the CookRomsan crosses his arms across his chest. "Well boy, answer the lady!"

The boy sitting in the corner answers, stammering a little. "Since yesterday, ma'am. Gormur has been like this since yesterday night. Since the Gur cursed him. He's been the same. We have tried to feed him. Some of it has gone in. Most of it come out."

"Don't worry about that. He's got reserves", Romsan interjects.

The boy continues. "I... I don't think he has ever collapsed like this before. He's made other people faint now and then." He squirms in his seat.

"He can be a little stern sometimes. Intimidating even. Especially to his staff", the innkeep offers as a means of explanation. "We have tried what we could to bring him back. Nothing has worked. Tell them how it happened, boy. What you saw", he instructs the help.

The nervous young man swallows audibly, then hesitantly speaks.

"I-I heard someone rummaging in the pantry last night... I peeked in and saw Papa... that's the old Gur... rummaging around and putting some of our spices and herbs and other ingredients into a bag. He was stealing them."

He gestures at the cook on the bed.

"I called Gormur to come and see. I couldn't stop him by myself, could I? I heard the cook shouting at Papa, and then I heard Papa say something - but nothing in any language I'd heard. Then I heard a loud thump. I came in and found the cook like this and saw Papa jumping out the window. That's want happened."

Romsan gives the distressed cook's assistant a comforting pat on the shoulder. Then he turns to Marybeth and the doctor. "I think the only way to save Gormur now is to bring that Gur back and force the maggot to reverse the curse. Someone saw him disappear into the quivering forest. I don't think any of the locals will do it. Paper tigers, each one of them. Uh...", he hesitates a little. "Would you be willing to do it? I'll arrange for a reward. Gormur may not be an altogether pleasant man, but he is an old friend. And a terrific cook. So, what say you?"

Marybeth approaches the cook and performs a preliminary inspection. Being more familiar with herbs than humans, it is difficult for her to ascertain what is wrong with the man. She hasn't seen these symptoms before. But then, she hasn't seen very many symptoms.
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Old Nov 26th, 2019, 06:31 AM
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DanshiiWithWulfs DanshiiWithWulfs is offline
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Abel Highgallows
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Abel simply nodded at Bran, accepting his apology like he expected nothing else. He gave way and offered his seat, which the watchman took and started to relate his situation to the elf in the green dress.

And just like that, hope once again is crushed before it can even begin to bloom in Abel's hardened heart. When he finished his story, the cleric gently placed a hand on the watchman's shoulder; he offered sympathy, and help provided his companion, the heavily armored woman, agreed. Even Lady Magdalene's face was painted with sympathy; the monkey's was more annoyance and impatience. But what was sympathy to Abel, when it was answers he needed, and solutions? Every passing day, that foul demon in Yavanna's body was wreaking havoc in Harrowdale and who knew where else, and every passing day Abel felt a greater coward and fool for running away and not trying harder to stop her. No; that wasn't her, not really. That evil. And now, pushed to the brink of desperation and exhaustion, Abel finds another wall.

Yet the promise of knowledge through this crystal ball that the elf mentioned was worth pursuing, at least in Abel's estimation. It would surely delay him from returning to his town and finally clearing both the region of this foul plague and his besmirched reputation, but that was better than coming back with nothing. So, Abel listened to the arcanist's proposition. By the time she was done, Abel already had an answer.

"I understand. Deal, then. But I have questions. These Gur," Abel glances at the other patrons, and he lowers his voice a tad for discretion. His stance never changes, but the lowering of his voice made him seem kinder somehow; less hard. "Take it these people aren't keen about them. Why? There somewhere else we could meet then, when I return with both boy and ball? Don't want a lynching on my hands." Nor on my conscience... "Would need a map, too." Need to know where this Sybil woman lives, as well.

Turning to Bran, Abel said, "Might take you up on your offer, cleric. Four heads are better than two, hydra once said. Was a joke. ...Gnome over there," the watchman gestured to the table he came from, "is Horryn. You'd like him."

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Head is full. Taking it slow.

Last edited by DanshiiWithWulfs; Nov 26th, 2019 at 06:35 AM.
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Old Nov 26th, 2019, 10:45 AM
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Shamira had always relied more on her brawn than her brains, or pure strength of character and conviction. She had a bit of common sense, though, even if she wasn't particularly "book smart", and the captain's story raised a few questions.

"How was one Gur able to simply ride away with a cart full of weapons?" she asked, regarding the captain carefully. "Didn't you have anyone guarding it? I find it difficult to believe that a cart full of weapons was left sitting alone in the middle of the square without anyone watching." Leaning back in her seat, she asked, "For that matter, why didn't you send anyone to retrieve him? I know you said you can't leave your station, but you really couldn't spare a couple of riders to catch a single Gur driving a cart laden down with weapons meant for resupply before he sells the lot to a group of orc bandits?"

Shamira wasn't the best at reading people and detecting lies. It seemed most of her instructors could successfully play cards against a brick wall, but she wasn't quite there yet. Still, something didn't add up, and she wasn't about to go on a manhunt on the word of a stranger...a mercenary, at that...until she got some answers.

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Oh, after all the folderol and hauling over coals stops, what did I learn?
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Old Dec 1st, 2019, 06:21 PM
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Bran cracked a small smile from Abel's joke. Though his quickness to explain it was a joke meant he had not noticed it.

"This place could use a few more of those," The Cleric said. "even if they're a bit awkward."

Bran glanced at the gnome that Abel pointed out. " Horryn, you say? His gloominess seems to match the atmosphere. Are you sure he's a fellow traveler?"

He gave a small chuckle as he stood from his seat. "If you will excuse me, I must illuminate Shamira, my companion, on our discussion. I will explain only the quest, not your personal confidence. " He turned to leave but paused halfway. "Would you rather I introduce ourselves to Horryn or you? "

Bran nodded at Abel's answer than once again navigated through a drunken and cranky crowd. Receiving many dirty looks and cursings under hushed breathes. As he approached their table he noticed Shamira still conversating with the mercenary. Though her whole demeanor seemed on edge as he was earlier.
He quietly came from behind the mercenary and sat down, taking a drink and bit from his mug and stew.

"Good evening," Bran said nodding to the Mercenary. He then turned his attention to Shamira with a soft smile. "I'm sorry I took so long and left so abruptly. I did not want the girl's soul to cling to that last remnant."

He took another bite of his stew.

"Whenever you two are done with your conversation, we have things to discuss."


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Last edited by Lord; Dec 1st, 2019 at 06:23 PM.
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Old Dec 1st, 2019, 08:56 PM
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Standing over the bedridden cook Marybeth shook her head. His current symptoms were vague, less than twenty four hours old and he had fairly healthy the day before. It could have been ten or twenty different illnesses that had taken him and had nothing to do with the Gur. Or it could have everything to do with the nomadic travelers. The woman listened in silence will the kitchen boy and Ramson told her the story of what happened.

The herbalist looked to the doctor, he had not moved from the door and now seemed disinterested in the man. He had seemed to eager to come up stairs and now it was like a candle that had been blown out. Maybe that man wasn’t a medical concern at all, maybe this brief look from a distance was all Dr. Brighton needed to know medicine wasn’t this man’s cure.

Marybeth returned to the doorway and spoke with Romsan, “I don’t believe there is much I can do except give you some herbs to help keep him sleeping, but only if you can get him to drink it. We could certainly try to locate the Gur, tracking is not something I am good at, but I am used to traveling by foot. If I find them I will try to convince the one called ‘Papa’ to return with me or at least tell me what he’s done to him,” gesturing back at Gormur,” if anything and if we can reverse it.”


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Old Dec 2nd, 2019, 08:47 PM
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Hiruma Kohaku Hiruma Kohaku is offline
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Dr. BrightonDr. Brighton had stood still as a statue during the whole exchange and examination by the herbalist. Finally, walked forward slowly. “I counted one hundred and fifty breaths from our patient during my pre-examination. This is twice what it should be and they are labored. Considering the fact that our witness did not actually see what occurred, we still have some things to rule out before deciding it is a curse. Was a poisonous powder or dune blown in his face? Was a poisoned needle used? Why leave the cook alive in this state instead of just killing him. Although in this state, he may as well be a corpse if his condition doesn’t change. You say he ate some but threw most of it up? That would imply that he was conscious at some point since the incident unless you were shoving it down his throat.”

The Doctor pulled out a metal instrument with a rounded end out of one of his pouches. With it, he opened the man’s mouth and inspected his gums. Next, he used his thumb and forefinger to open one eye at a time and shine some candle light near them. The instrument was then used to widen his nostrils for inspection of a foreign substance. A pulse was taken along with cranking his pinky the wrong way but just before it would dislocate while observing the man’s face for acknowledgment of pain. His exam was as thorough as he could be
Dice Medicine check:
1d20+5 (14)+5 Total = 19

Once complete, he pulled a strange leather bound book from a case strapped to his lower back. Pages were flipped back and forth. He had traveled many places and investigated many creatures of the undead for various contagious diseases and curses. Perhaps he might find something from his travels that might explain if a curse may be at work or not
Dice Arcana check:
1d20+5 (6)+5 Total = 11
(11) While looking through his tome, he doesn’t bother looking at the owner when he speaks. “Regardless if his affliction is medical or magical, my fee is six months lodging with one meal a day included for free to be used at any time I see fit that need not be consecutive stays. If this Papa is the the source of this then I am very intrigued as to what he can tell me about it. This ability could prove very useful if I have to operate on any of my patients, to keep them from struggling and further injuring themselves of course.
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Old Dec 5th, 2019, 02:28 PM
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Horryn Grenpine
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Horryn sits at the table, silently regarding the exchange between Abel, the armored fellow, and the green-cloaked arcanist. He could hear words here and there, but mostly only the tone of the conversation. Then, still staring towards them, he takes a moment to let his consciousness merge with that of his winged familiar perched on his shoulder. The bird ruffles its feather and turns its head about the room, the feathers on its face drawing sound toward its diminutive but sensitive ears. For Horryn, it was like pulling his face out of water. What was before muffled and low suddenly became sharp and loud. Almost painfully so. He could understand why the bird shifted its head so often, as a particularly loud slam of a mug onto a table echoed inside his mind.

Now he could hear a few sharp words being passed between Abel and the other two. Abel is explaining how they came to be at the inn, the circumstances of his beloved's transformation. Horryn had heard the story, and though the had not said much outwardly, it had torn at his ragged heart. He'd immediately felt a kinship towards the giant man, and decided that he would travel with him as far along his path as he could, until their goals pulled them apart.

A moment later, Horryn pulls his consciousness back into his own body, and once again the echoes of the room turn to a normal level, with a few voices standing out against the hushed murmur of the folk conversing with each other. His attention is suddenly drawn to a nearby conversation at the bar, between the mercenary leader and the captain. Due to their proximity and lack of any attempt to disguise their conversation. Horryn can hear this "Captain Reis" explain their situation to the paladin. He puffs on his pipe and continues staring forward, when suddenly he hears
"You might want to start with him"
In Horryn's surprise, he raises his eyebrows for a moment, giving away that he had been listening to the conversation. He then settles back into pretending that he is not aware, but that attempt is soon foiled as the paladin rips into the mercenary, a fusillade of questions aimed at the leader's competence. Horryn can't help but grin. 'I like this one,' he thinks.

His attention then turns to Shamira's companion, who is leaving Abel's company and walking towards the bar. Puffing on his pipe, Horryn looks the man in the eye, measuring him, thinking of how ready he had just been to come to blows. 'Also not a bad trait, in the right circumstances...' he thinks. Pulling his gaze away, Horryn turns back to check on Abel and Lady Magdalene. He wonders when his stew will arrive, the innkeeper Romsan had been absent for a time now.

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