[Game Thread] Group 1 - Ch3 - Pt1 - Sniff Test

[psuedenim]

Hemdan - 90% honest The little Goblin dashes upstairs to get his 'prize' and leaves Stahl asleep and quickly heads back downstairs. Hemdan waits quietly for the rest of the group to join him, even Daniel, as he assumes a recent stranger will be non-the wiser about the fire A story for when we have distance between us and this place His assumption is doubly reinforced when drinks are paid for and after taking a huge gulp, he really likes beer, a huge grin appears across his face. Putting his drink down gently and trying not to be obvious about scanning the room for eavesdroppers he reaches into his coat and pulls out a bag "Something I brought with me from" he pauses looking for the best words "... before. Stahl has been sitting on it - Literally but he is toilet trained so we should be fine" Enjoying the moment he slowly unties the bag and produces its contents for his companions to share. "Lets play a guessing game - who wants to go first?"

Actions Lore check (1 success)

 

Name: Hemdan Whitefingers - Goblin | Sorcerer | ~20yrs

Strength: 2/3 - Crafting: 2
Agility: 4 - Sleight of Hand: 1
Wits: 4/5 - Insight: 2 | Lore: 2
Empathy: 3 - Manipulation: 1

---

WILLPOWER: 1
REPUTATION:__
PRIDE: Nothing scares you, as you have seen the world behind the veil.
DARK SECRET: Your yearning for more magical power is stronger than anything else.
CONDITIONS - Sleepless:__ | Thirsty:__ | Hungry:__ | Cold:__

---

TALENTS
After rolling for STEALTH, you can spend Willpower Points which are turned into extra 6'sSneaky (1)
The hairs on the back of your neck stand up when enemies lurk in the bushes.

RANK 1: Your SCOUT roll is modified by +1 when an enemy tries to ambush you or performs a sneak attack.
RANK 2: When you spot an ambush or a sneak attack, you also see how many the attackers are, what kin they belong to, and what weapons they use.
RANK 3: You can add a D8 Artifact Die to your SCOUT roll when you try to spot an ambush or a sneak attack.
Sixth Sense (1)
Path of Signs (1)

---

WEAPONS Staff - Bonus: 1 | Damage: 1 | Range: Near
ARMOR Leather Vest - Rating: 2

---

EQUIPMENT (6)
Chalk | +1 HuntingSnares

CONSUMABLES
Food: D6 | Watr: d8 D6

[writelite]

Past words flying like sleepless birds, back and forth from their nests up-cliff into darkness, Daneil kept watch over a desolate heart landscape. The heat, the arduous fighting with flames - he had thoughtlessly thrown himself to, opening his soul's gates for the wild, desperate urge to break free - to defeat the unchangeable... And of that hour of shadows and memories, his prowlers - lengthening and surrounding themselves in chocking, eyes-stinging smoke - rushed in, taking over the scattered remnants of hope, of pain. His self - much like the village's gate towers now - rose, vertical yet unsure of anything except being there, alive - somehow, surrounded by ghostly howls and stirrings of ash - the ruin's and his past's. Across, the innkeeper's daughter had silenced her winged calls - the night's hem having fallen in between them strange, empty. He had been, for a little while, closer to... others, to folk like he used to belong to, before... One among many - counted likewise, and just now to her, bearer of news - that could not be news. His search - that wandering about left to chance, had again ended with him vagrant, a loner. Bitterly, he let go of that short illusion the earlier struggle gave him, and his hand - opening by itself - halted an inch farther: A house, a home's wall, was at arm's length - yet to him as far as his native village, or as... The hand dropped. In front, a small group was gathered by the inn's door. Their shapes... he had this vague feeling he had seen them somewhere. Bethe stopped and he stopped also. His name was spoken, "traveler" - he heard... And as if finally pulling himself awake from the reiteration of a dream's rhyme, he let out a harsh, awkward greeting - a bird turned stone and fallen out of its high nest.

The young woman went on, giving a summary of his day's fruitless attempt, and - slowly - her words became the realization that it was not villagers he gazed upon: That behind the soot were other vagabonds like him, who perhaps wandered into Greyvale in search of themselves and their own. But his eyes said this not, for with it came a void and a lingering suffering that he would not have them look into. He looked away, past them. "Evening" - a voice rang, thin - as of a child, or perhaps an old person - disguised, it seemed, in play or mockery. Then out of hiding it came - "Evening back at ya", in tow with a small creature who bowed. Somewhere deep a pang struck - Dan blinked... Beer... Beer he said? ...Not a child then. A shine caught his eye - one stranded ray fallen on the large one's smile, or grin. "Good evening" he said, "master Daneil". And his mind remained there, while the man kept talking. He knew the sort, never liked it - it even... reminded him of that monster he hated so! His hand again moved slightly, by itself - towards the sword's hilt, then stopped. This... this was not him, and... the hate, the hate has long ran its course... "...guest to buy the first round. Ho ho!" - words returned. Easily came their greeting, hastily they went in - talking of comforts. Their burden, maybe, was lighter... The last one remained a bit longer. He stood there - as if measuring him up and down, then grimaced. In reply - Daneil frowned, but his brow gave up quickly. What did he care what the man thought? Besides, he seemed... as bitter, and out of his place as he felt - a drifter, held in place by pure accident, and unable to find in it motive to start once more - to anywhere. When that one too went inside, Daneil took a few moments to be by himself. Words they said and had passed by him now came back making sense: His "search", "the logging site", "Ochala"... they wanted to hear about these - from him. The innkeeper, she must have wanted them to join efforts. Yet... it was late - a time when he was most weak, and he didn't know if he would have strength for an interview. With reluctance, he pushed the door and entered.

In the room's light, he might have appeared less impressive than darkness and the unknown made him: muscles did not bulge under his clothes - his back was only somewhat wide. And he did not walk or stood dominantly. Yet throughout all his movements - from the inn's door up the stairs and (some time later) back down, he kept a dignified posture which spoke of his place in the order of things. Having washed, the marks on his face, neck, and hands - old and new scars all - became visible. His straight black hair was unkempt, parts of his studded armor (still smudged) were torn and loose - From top to bottom he showed signs of a life spent on the road; and perhaps not much care for his looks, or comfort (his clothing all dull colors and cheap, rough materials). He walked to the bar and sat down, a stool's space from the man there. The longsword - which so far hung noiselessly at his right - knocked only lightly on a wooden leg. Bethe turned her looks towards him and he nodded, placing a silver coin on the counter. She filled him a mug too, and - hesitantly - he reached for it. "The children..." - A question he could not long let hang in the air. Daneil leaned his head back, throwing a good draught of that dragon blood down the hatch. His eyes turned red, then blurry. He needed the encouragement - Now, if only he could retire before it did more than silence his hurts... "We... searched in vain, so far," he began, slowly - as if looking for words. "No sign of the boy... on the path, and..." he said hoarsely, taking a quick sip to mend his voice - "that woman, Ochala, was no help... She seemed... scared, worried..." Took a short pause, and added - shaking his head slightly: "No, she knew nothing..." It felt like it wasn't enough, and he was just about to reach with his mug for a refill. But at that point, the little green man - who now sat next to him - said something, and everyone turned their attention to his game.

[Effete]

Oniver Stramont Hemdan was scurrying down the stairs from the second floor, where the bedrooms were, when Oniver entered the inn. The two met and walked together to a table. As the goblin hopped up onto a chair, kicking his little legs, the peddler stood at his side and leaned down, his palms flat upon the tabletop. He spoke, his voice low and flat, a sure sign there was no subterfuge or trickery in his words; he spoke now to one he considered an equal. "The new fellow, Daneil... what do you think of him? A bit withdrawn, eh? He got a sadness to his eyes. Reminds me of Phol." Even when being serious, Oniver had a tendency to ramble, to rattle off sentences and questions in quick succession with hardly a pause between. "Dangerous, too, I gather! Did you see how he reached for his sword? Doesn't trust strangers, if I were to guess. Or maybe he just never saw a goblin before. Anyway, with Stahl out of commission and Old Dog vanishing off to who knows where, I think we could use a dangerous man at our side. As long as he is on our side." At that moment, Phol swept into the inn, pausing to eye the two conspirators with their heads together suspiciously. In a loud whisper, loud enough for the half-elf's keen ears to hear, Oniver husked, "Shh! Here he comes!" then abruptly pulled a chair and sat down. He glanced at Phol surreptitiously, trying very hard not to laugh at his own little inside joke. Daneil entered not long after, and a somberness fell upon the room, as if the man carried in whatever darkness was eating at him and cast it out as a candle casts light. The stranger climbed the steps, his posture impeccable, then descended a short time later in the exact same fashion. Oniver eyed the sword that hung from his belt, noticing how well kept the blade was; a stark contrast to the man's dingy outfit. Dangerous indeed, the peddler thought. The silence in the room hung... then Daneil spoke. A stilted way of speech, as if he were unsure which words to use. An inverse to the peddler, for whom words came so easily. Oniver's mouth worked, eager to unleash the words that burned at the tip of his tongue, but instead remained silent. Something told him his charms would not work on this fellow. Hemdan had slid off his chair and climbed up on the stool beside the man, the pouch of his ill-begotten wares in his hand. The moment had finally come, and the goblin apparently decided on the quality of this stranger. He would let him in and share his secret. Moving to take the stool on the goblin's other flank, Oniver sipped at his ale and waited for the eccentric little mage to reveal what he had found.

OOC   STRENGTH 3/3 | Might 0, Endurance 1, Melee 1, Crafting 0 AGILITY 3/3 | Stealth 0, Sleight of Hand 2, Move 0, Marksmanship 0 WITS 2/3 | Scouting 0, Lore 0, Survival 1, Insight 2 EMPATHY 3/5 | Manipulation 3, Performance 0, Healing 0, Animal Handling 0 Weapons: Knife (+1 bonus, 1 damage) Armor: Leather Vest (Rating 2) Food: d8 Water: d8 Pack-of-Many-Things: d12 Gold/Silver/Copper: 0/8/0 Willpower Points: 3 Full sheet

[DBCowboy]

Phol With an extra furrow to his brow, the half-elf pondered Daneil's summation of the search while strictly avoiding making eye contact with the peddler. In truth his focus was divided between listening to the recount of the search and wondering what fault Oniver and Hemdan had found with him. Perhaps they felt he should not have shot the ghost? Could it be that he'd made some foolish, social faux pas at the baker's tonight? Bah! Just as those in Keirsap had ostracized him for no just reasons (he was firm in his assessment of this) why not these two who were of the same cut of cloth. It was for this very reason he had joined the expedition, to find a new home. Here then was a prod to continue on! He'd not fully decided if Greyvale might be that home yet, but were it to be then surely the folk would treat the one who solved the riddle of the missing children with more grace than a simple stranger. Hmmm "Yes well it sounds as if little has been done then," Phol harumphed once Daneil was done, in a manner he gave no second thought but many might find rude (and he cant figure out why folks are put off?), "We've one other lead to follow. Would be best if we did so tonight, says I." He looked round the table finally, flames behind his eyes of anger or determination (perhaps both). He'd completely forgotten Hemdan's mention of something to show, so riled as he was to meet the druid now.

OOC

Phol's Sheet: https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthre...46#post9486246

[97mg]

All Good Things, Come Inn Time The Knave and Chariot Inn had been empty when Bethe had returned, which was good news considering that sitting around drinking, whilst others fought against flames, wasn't a particularly good look. Her introduction of Daneil had been short, but hopefully not abrupt, not wanting to push too hard and risk damaging what she hoped might prove to become an "alliance". They were all strangers to Greyvale after all, even if Daneil's first steps within the Inn had come several days before. Being somewhat foreign was something they all had in common, and along with it, they had an interest in finding the missing children. Their motivations were probably all very different, their ways as varying as the shapes of clouds... or smokey haze as this evening would have it. But, they were here, and being here was good. She smiled at the entry of all the Inn's latest customers. "The people of Greyvale are thankful to you, for what you risked tonight, and your joining with them in fighting that awful fire! What an afternoon, eh? Anyways, please make yourselves at home. Do you mind if we wait a little while, before heading out? Oh yes... Daneil, I have something to show everyone... but later." Daneil then had departed for a while to freshen up, if such a thing was truly possible, and meanwhile Bethe busied herself setting things behind the counter straight, after her hurried earlier exit out onto a smog-filled street. When the guests all began to mingle though, and Daneil returned to slide a whole silver across the counter, she smiled to him and shook her head. Her delicate fingers touched upon the coin, and pushed it back towards him in retreat. "I'll not take your coin tonight. The least I can do, after what you have all been through." From under the counter she drew out a tall ceramic jug and several mugs. The jug was soon filled high with enough ale to keep everyone going for quite a while. Well, hopefully it would. Daneil seemed to her as though a bucket with a hole in it, yet she hoped that having some companions and distractions, might slow the man's pace this evening. "Ah, I need to roll in a new barrel. I'll be back soon my friends." Then, without further a do, she exited through a door and out into what must have been either a storage area, or an external structure where the ale's were actually brought to life. This gave the group an opportunity, an ample space of time, in which to witness what the goblin had hoped would be truly, especially, and wonderfully... special. Hemdan produced an old and dusty leather pouch. It was larger than a traditional receptacle for one's coins though, nor did it jingle with any promise of those elusive precious metal discs. The drawstring was hard and tired as far as leather went, but an affirmative tug on it soon opened things up. A hand moved inside, and touched on wood. Two pieces of wood, but with surfaces smooth and most certainly not crusted with bark. Then out they came, one after another. Two wooden figurines, standing at some five inches tall. The workmanship was exceptional, you didn't need to be an art appraiser to know it to be so. Aside from the wood's grain, they were identical in every possible way, except that they were a mirror image of each other. The form of a boy standing tall and proud, each lace in his boots so delicately carved, not to mention the flowing waves of loose pants and humble shirt. Upon their faces, the boy's cheeks were pronounced, the mouths smiling with pride. One lad's left arm was raised with an open palm, whereas the other's right arm mirrored the same posture. It was almost as though they were waving to each other....

[writelite]

Daneil The task of sharing what he knew pulled Daneil's senses away from his feelings, somewhat. Yet his spirit, steed-like quickened by alcohol, could only run over a rocky-muddy wasteland of thought fragments. And... it seemed he now drew close to the others, now farther... It was not long ago that he again became capable of approaching people, and it came easier to him to listen - and feel thus accepted - than talk. Of the things he new, though few, he named one, passed the next - not sure if he set apart facts from himself well, and not sure how long it was wise to bear the moment's discomfort... With the last word, he felt plunging into a deep urge for more ale. Just in case they'd want to know more, he reasoned. And he was about to grab that jug when the elf-man spoke - giving what sounded like the group's conclusion. Then that throat clearing... The recognition of its meaning passed him on a faint snort - It felt... oddly relieving to lean on their lightness, a bit... The green man then, whom he felt climbing next to him - so far quiet, spoke also. Of something unrelated - from... before they had met? (...What was Stahl?) Everyone had relaxed 'round him, it seemed. He eased his grip on the mug's handle, his shoulders slouched slightly. He turned to watch the little guy open his pouch... Toys?! Dan had seen goblins before, and this one was no child - but... something in that picture moved him to reach for the knobbed top. An edge of smile bitterly rose on his face, a tear pushed out in his eye corner. Yet again he withheld himself - This time the hand, having traveled more than a few inches, was instead sent to the jug. He poured himself only half a mug, and tried to drive his mind elsewhere - What did she say... something to show us, later?

Out-of-Storytelling   A few sheet elements your characters already are aware of: - he is an adult human (in his thirties); - his face is scarred, his eyes sad; - his body is that of a lean athlete; - his clothes are common and worn, of dull colors; - he wears Studded Leather; - a Longsword hangs at his side; - he has at least 1 silver coin to his name.

[DBCowboy]

Phol Well Phol's hackles were up, incensed at the idea of being mocked. He took a long pull from his mug, returned it to the bar with enough force to demonstrate his annoyance, and asked the group, "Well then, the evening passes and we've a meeting with a fellow in the wood, haven't we? We should be off!" The sight of the figurines Hemdan displayed on the table where he and Oniver sat seemed to only raise his temperature further, "Oy! Do you play with toys when there are children missing?" He glanced to Daneil for surely the man would agree. His newfound motivation for diligently searching for the children seemed perfectly natural to him...though a surprise for this long-time companions. He did hesitate a moment then. There WAS something interesting about the objects, even a quick glance had revealed they looked well made. Bah! But what of it? Perhaps there was some small value to them; it might explain the peddler's interest. Sadly it seemed the fuming hunter was in danger of alienating his companions....much as he had the residents of Keirsap.

OOC

Phol's Sheet: https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthre...46#post9486246

[Effete]

Oniver Stramont As Hemdan pulled each figurine out of the ratty, age-weathered pouch, Oniver's excitement dwindled, until it hinged somewhere near disappointment. "Hmph!" he managed, before taking a drought of ale. "I don't suppose you peaked at these 'surprises' before you decided to show us, eh? So much hoobaloo over a couple of knick-knacks!" The peddler peered down at the figurines as he drained his mug. Phol was apparently just as disinterested and becoming increasingly anxious to visit this druid. Oniver couldn't fault him for that; this big reveal was a great let-down. But then Oniver brightened a tad bit. "They are very well made, though, are they not? The craftsmanship is... exquisite. Extremely lifelike. Hemdan?!" Oniver suddenly shouted. "Do you sense any magic upon these figures? Perhaps it's the booze talking, or maybe I'm suffering from smoke inhalation, but is it not odd that while searching for missing children we find carvings of two children? What they were doing in the... in that old pouch, I couldn't say, but is this just mere coincidence?" Leaning foward over the bar to peer at Phol, the peddler addressed the man's question. "Yes, I do believe we should visit this so-called druid. Post haste! He may know something about these carvings." Oniver paused for a moment, considering what to say next, before continuing. "I was asking Hemdan just before you entered what his opinion of Daneil was. I suggested that, with our party down two members, it would be wise to recruit the man. He is, after all, searching for the children as well. What say you? You are the best hunter that Kiersap has to offer, but a swordsman you are not. And neither am I. Daneil here, though," Oniver spared the dour stranger a glance, "looks quite capable with that blade." The peddler's eyes drifted back the the two figurines; perfect symmetry with such superb attention to detail. It was... uncanny. He was sure there was more to them. Even if they weren't magical, the pair would certainly fetch a high price at market.

OOC Oniver got one success on an Insight check.   STRENGTH 3/3 | Might 0, Endurance 1, Melee 1, Crafting 0 AGILITY 3/3 | Stealth 0, Sleight of Hand 2, Move 0, Marksmanship 0 WITS 2/3 | Scouting 0, Lore 0, Survival 1, Insight 2 EMPATHY 3/5 | Manipulation 3, Performance 0, Healing 0, Animal Handling 0 Weapons: Knife (+1 bonus, 1 damage) Armor: Leather Vest (Rating 2) Food: d8 Water: d8 Pack-of-Many-Things: d12 Gold/Silver/Copper: 0/8/0 Willpower Points: 3 Full sheet

[psuedenim]

Hemdan - were off to see a Druid a wonderful Druid of ... Toys - bah. Images of lost children - interesting but not quite the guesses Hemdan was hoping for and none of them were helping much. Remembering his success with 'powers from beyond the veil' he was extremely excited to try it again. He squints his eye and his tongue sticks out the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on the wooden statues. He again imagines the pink-purple gloop that powers the veil bubbling up from the table and sucking up all the knowledge of what powers them, because he knows they are powered, and it then oozing into his hands to infuse him with its extracted secrets. Hemdan slowly puts his hands next to the statues and carefully grabs them, he takes a deep breathe ready for the explosive excitement of his discovery. "Toys - Bah!" he quickly puts them back in their bag, stands up, stows them in his clothing, gulps down the rest of his beer, bangs the empty mug on the table and angrily agrees with the rest of the group "To the Druid then. I have many questions for him and some are about children, real and wooden!"

Actions

 

Name: Hemdan Whitefingers - Goblin | Sorcerer | ~20yrs

Strength: 2/3 - Crafting: 2
Agility: 4 - Sleight of Hand: 1
Wits: 4/5 - Insight: 2 | Lore: 2
Empathy: 3 - Manipulation: 1

---

WILLPOWER: -
REPUTATION:__
PRIDE: Nothing scares you, as you have seen the world behind the veil.
DARK SECRET: Your yearning for more magical power is stronger than anything else.
CONDITIONS - Sleepless:__ | Thirsty:__ | Hungry:__ | Cold:__

---

TALENTS
After rolling for STEALTH, you can spend Willpower Points which are turned into extra 6'sSneaky (1)
The hairs on the back of your neck stand up when enemies lurk in the bushes.

RANK 1: Your SCOUT roll is modified by +1 when an enemy tries to ambush you or performs a sneak attack.
RANK 2: When you spot an ambush or a sneak attack, you also see how many the attackers are, what kin they belong to, and what weapons they use.
RANK 3: You can add a D8 Artifact Die to your SCOUT roll when you try to spot an ambush or a sneak attack.
Sixth Sense (1)
Path of Signs (1)

---

WEAPONS Staff - Bonus: 1 | Damage: 1 | Range: Near
ARMOR Leather Vest - Rating: 2

---

EQUIPMENT (6)
Chalk | +1 HuntingSnares

CONSUMABLES
Food: D6 | Watr: d8 D6

[Effete]

Oniver Stramont With an eye trained in the shrewd markets of Kiersap, Oniver appraised the minute carvings. To the right buyer he estimated he could fetch a gold crown each; perhaps more for the pair, or to a particularly interested collector. Hemdan, too, seemed to be concentrating on the figurines... after his own fashion. Suddenly, the goblin pounded upon the countertop, causing ale to splash out of the pitcher. Oniver quickly lifted the ceramic jug and refilled his own cup, trying to cover his shock at the vehemence in the otherwise jovial goblin's tone. With as much nonchalance as he could muster, the peddler sipped at the frothy beverage before asking, "Daneil, will you be joining us? I do believe we are leaving shortly."

OOC   STRENGTH 3/3 | Might 0, Endurance 1, Melee 1, Crafting 0 AGILITY 3/3 | Stealth 0, Sleight of Hand 2, Move 0, Marksmanship 0 WITS 2/3 | Scouting 0, Lore 0, Survival 1, Insight 2 EMPATHY 3/5 | Manipulation 3, Performance 0, Healing 0, Animal Handling 0 Weapons: Knife (+1 bonus, 1 damage) Armor: Leather Vest (Rating 2) Food: d8 Water: d8 Pack-of-Many-Things: d12 Gold/Silver/Copper: 0/8/0 Willpower Points: 3 Full sheet

[DBCowboy]

Phol Phol eyed Oniver uncertainly, mistrust etched across his face. One moment ago he'd appeared to be the butt of the peddler's jokes, now he was bestowed the title of the "best hunter Keirsap had to offer." Well, it was a true statement at least. But was this more jest or sincerely spoken? For the hunter who'd largely isolated himself from the residents of his home village more than 30 years ago, it was often difficult to tell. Ah at the very least it seemed they would be off to speak with this druid soon. Perhaps they might learn more from him than they had the baker.

OOC

Phol's Sheet: https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthre...46#post9486246

[writelite]

Daneil Daneil stared at the mug's bottom, trying to see his answer in that finger width left of ale. How long could he trick himself... Suddenly, the dark surface was troubled by a nearby noise - making him twitch that way. And the elf-man's words followed, knocking on his tired, emotions thinned nerves: "Well then" - "the evening" - "a meeting"... He shook his head slightly and sipped that last draught. It tasted watery... With nothing to hang on to, he took a deep breath in and then tried to pluck at the words still pulsating inside his head: A meeting he said, in the wood... The meanings shone, as he reached for them, but soon broke down into a foggy drizzle. A background of more noise rang closer, then farther away - on a different voice. It all felt dangerously close to dozing off... Dan pushed himself off the counter and stepped down. Started towards the entrance, slowly - trying to make each step count. And as if being freed from their company's circle, edges of sense began to reemerge: They talked about... the missing children now. Some feet away from the door and the cool night air behind it - he stopped. The words hurt no longer, and just then - having walked off enough of that spell, it seemed - he found his interest roused: The carvings - they had discovered them while searching for the children! He turned to look back at them, but... he could not let the question make it past his eyes: Where have they searched, and he hasn't? Prying, he saw, could invite their inquisitiveness - and his own private matters were so weakly guarded... So Daneil dimmed his eyes' lights and said nothing. And while they carried on moved by 'tato effervescence, his gaze wandered towards the ladder - taken over by gentle longing for something just of his own, up there... ...recruit? - The word mused in among the soft thoughts. ...the best hunter ...Daneil here. With the air of one missing a dear appointment, Dan turned to hear what they might say of him. But shortly he realized: They talked... as if he wasn't there! Heat rushed towards his brow, his jaw tensed, scars and furrows deepened - For a moment there, shadows and candlelight might have cast strange patterns on his features. His hand itched, he... unclenched it and reached for his face - as with a mask. Pride was... ill suited to his circumstances. The... ale and hour might have been playing tricks on all of them, he tried to think - His blade? ...Yes, that's what he could be to them, they were... honest. He suddenly remembered the heed with which the large man had followed his return downstairs. He had left the sword out of its scabbard... Did they perhaps feel... threatened?! Pressing along the bones, his fingers worked to rub off the remnants of that impulse of yore. And then he heard the same voice - as if coming to meet him in his effort: "Will you be joining us?" Dan pulled his shoulders back and raised his brow slightly to face them. They were to continue the search that late... Would he join them? His mind now hang in the immediacy of an answer, and - of all the things inside he was carrying around - he suddenly found himself stepping forth into the unknown just with: ...Could his luck change in their midst? He moved back towards them a couple of feet and said: "The young ones, yeah... I'll help search for them."

Out-of-Storytelling   Daneil would need to take along a few belongings. They are probably upstairs, as he wasn't aware he'd exit again that evening.   A few sheet elements your characters already are aware of: - he is an adult human (in his thirties); - his face is scared, his eyes sad; - his body is that of a lean athlete; - he is left-handed*; - his clothes are common and worn, of dull colors; - he wears Studded Leather; - a Longsword hangs at his side; - he has at least 1 silver coin to his name. * The characters had more chances to notice this previously; I just forgot to take it into account in OOS - after writing that his sword "hung (...) at his right".

[97mg]

Barrelling In It was a short time later that the back door opened and Bethe announced her re-arrival. A small barrel was in her grip, hugged tight like a protective mother might carry a newborn. A few careful steps, and she deposited it safely on the ground behind the bar counter. Had she really needed more ale? Well, Daneil was here, and she half suspected he could sink a good portion of one all on his lonesome. Or, had she hoped that a little "private time" might see her newest patrons form something of a bond? Or even just an interest in helping each other with a common cause? Her warm smile directed at the group as she stood from behind the old wooden counter, spoke of great hope in what was coming next. Then, in contrast, she exhaled with a touch of nervousness. "Daneil, I have a confession to make. I told the others earlier and it is only fair that you now know too. The herbs in our food here. The spices that make our customers smile. They are from a very special place, a small garden a little ways from the village, yet not so easy to stumble across. It is tended by Nhamashal the Druid. We've only met a very few times, but he allows me to visit in the evenings and pick enough floral delights for the next day's meals. My father... he knows nothing of this. And please, he can't ever know." She looked at Daneil as though expecting some kind of indication, or promise that her secrecy would remain intact. "I've already agreed to take these kind folks there, and direct them to where Nhamashal lives." Her eyes moved to the rest of the guests then. "But it is getting late. If we leave now, I can show you the way, but you'll need to decide if you want to return here afterwards, or push on. A camp under the stars perhaps? Nhamashal's hut is quite some way from the flower beds..."

OOC Lovely work everyone! I've re-opened our new thread. https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthread.php?t=223467 Some things to consider: Go with Bethe now and return with her to the Inn, and then make the journey to the Druid tomorrow? Or go with her and then press on (which will be a journeying situation, and entry into a new hex), or something else?

[writelite]

Daneil Bethe's return brought about a warmth different than what the ale could conjure. The hearth's fire, it seemed, so far blending into a background he had no mind for, came to the fore - gentle and merry - in her presence. And as if charmed by it, Daneil only watched how it seeped through his chest - all the way to the heart, surrounding it in the ghost of a time gone by. Then it hurt... Clenching his fist, he blinked a few times - then moved his eyes slightly off that smile and the memory it had awoken. Her worried words caught up with him like an afternoon sun's rays would a road barren, dust rising at their touch... Confession, she said - something which the others already knew. His heart aching still, Daneil turned to face her plight. A place, special... a small garden... Past those irreparable ruts worn inside him, far - where the winding road met his youth's skyline, he... thought he again gazed upon a vision long, long forgotten. The druid... - The sight darkened. That man doubted by most was her friend. Dan had returned to the room's feelings framed in wood crackling and shadow play. "Please" - The word drew his hasty nod, and - as their eyes still made contact - he tried to banish from his mind all attempts at piecing things together. He won't tell her father, he thought - and that was all he should care about. She had planned a short trip it seemed, and Dan - who never guessed that much in her late leaves of absence - felt he, at least, should accompany her. But would the others push further into the night... Without waiting their answer, he went upstairs for his sword sheath and knapsack.

Out-of-Storytelling   If there's nothing else requiring his input, Daneil would just follow the group when he returns from upstairs. So my next post would be in Part 2.   A few sheet elements your characters already are aware of: - he is an adult human (in his thirties); - his face is scared, his eyes sad; - his body is that of a lean athlete; he is left-handed; - his clothes are common and worn, of dull colors; - he wears Studded Leather; a Longsword hangs at his side; - he has at least 1 silver coin to his name; - a blanket roll is tied atop his knapsack, against the surface of which a few edges appear to push.