VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
The Stonehill Inn
"Well, now," Narth begins, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and melancholy, "that's a tale with both sunshine and shadow. After their secret rendezvous came to light, the couple faced much in the way of hardship. Families on both sides were none too pleased, I'll tell you. This town, it can be as warm as summer sun but just as quick to turn as cold as winter's bite when it takes a notion."
He sips his drink, a small smile playing on his lips. "But love, as it often does, found a way. They eloped, much to the chagrin of their kin. That beautiful wedding was not here in Phandalin, I'm afraid. Last I heard, they'd set up a little homestead on the outskirts of Neverwinter. Got themselves a piece of land, they did, far from the prying eyes and sharp tongues of Phandalin."
Narth's eyes twinkle with a hint of admiration. "They send a letter now and again, mostly around harvest. They've a couple of little ones running about the place, from what I gather. Seems they made a proper go of it, despite all odds. It's a hard life out there, but if you were to ask me, I reckon they wouldn't trade it for all the tea in Chult. Love, it seems, does conquer all—or at least enough to make a life worth living. Sometimes you can't just let the history of your family hold you back from happiness."
Tortle Dude listens, the story adding layers to his understanding of human (and humanoid) nature, intertwining with his own reflections on lettuce, love, and life. Narth's tale offers a slice of hope and perseverance, a reminder that even in a world brimming with danger and uncertainty, there's room for tales of love triumphing against the odds.
"Well, now," Narth begins, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and melancholy, "that's a tale with both sunshine and shadow. After their secret rendezvous came to light, the couple faced much in the way of hardship. Families on both sides were none too pleased, I'll tell you. This town, it can be as warm as summer sun but just as quick to turn as cold as winter's bite when it takes a notion."
He sips his drink, a small smile playing on his lips. "But love, as it often does, found a way. They eloped, much to the chagrin of their kin. That beautiful wedding was not here in Phandalin, I'm afraid. Last I heard, they'd set up a little homestead on the outskirts of Neverwinter. Got themselves a piece of land, they did, far from the prying eyes and sharp tongues of Phandalin."
Narth's eyes twinkle with a hint of admiration. "They send a letter now and again, mostly around harvest. They've a couple of little ones running about the place, from what I gather. Seems they made a proper go of it, despite all odds. It's a hard life out there, but if you were to ask me, I reckon they wouldn't trade it for all the tea in Chult. Love, it seems, does conquer all—or at least enough to make a life worth living. Sometimes you can't just let the history of your family hold you back from happiness."
Tortle Dude listens, the story adding layers to his understanding of human (and humanoid) nature, intertwining with his own reflections on lettuce, love, and life. Narth's tale offers a slice of hope and perseverance, a reminder that even in a world brimming with danger and uncertainty, there's room for tales of love triumphing against the odds.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
Lionshield Coster
Linene, recognizing the genuine concern in Kutshort's inquiry, responds with a nod. "Of course," she says, her voice brisk but friendly. "You're looking for something to protect your... unusually brave companion here. That's a bit outside the usual requests, but I admire the dedication to your friend's safety."
She thinks for a moment, then brightens up. "I might have something that could work, or at least it could be modified to suit. Follow me."
She walks back into the Lionshield Coster, gesturing for Kutshort and Hopper to follow. The interior of the shop is well-organized, with weapons and armor neatly displayed on racks and stands.
She leads Kutshort and Hopper to a back section of the shop where they keep more specialized gear. Pulling out a drawer, she retrieves what looks like a set of leather barding, typically used for horses but smaller. "This was originally crafted for a large dog, used by a local guard. With some adjustments, it could fit Hopper quite well. It's made of reinforced leather, flexible enough not to hinder movement but sturdy enough to offer protection."
Linene sets the barding down, examining Hopper to estimate the size adjustments needed. "I'll need a bit of time to modify it, but I can have it ready for you. It's not every day we get to outfit a wolf for adventure. The cost would be about 40 gold pieces. How does that sound?" Her eyes twinkle with the challenge, clearly pleased at the prospect of such an unusual task.
Linene, recognizing the genuine concern in Kutshort's inquiry, responds with a nod. "Of course," she says, her voice brisk but friendly. "You're looking for something to protect your... unusually brave companion here. That's a bit outside the usual requests, but I admire the dedication to your friend's safety."
She thinks for a moment, then brightens up. "I might have something that could work, or at least it could be modified to suit. Follow me."
She walks back into the Lionshield Coster, gesturing for Kutshort and Hopper to follow. The interior of the shop is well-organized, with weapons and armor neatly displayed on racks and stands.
She leads Kutshort and Hopper to a back section of the shop where they keep more specialized gear. Pulling out a drawer, she retrieves what looks like a set of leather barding, typically used for horses but smaller. "This was originally crafted for a large dog, used by a local guard. With some adjustments, it could fit Hopper quite well. It's made of reinforced leather, flexible enough not to hinder movement but sturdy enough to offer protection."
Linene sets the barding down, examining Hopper to estimate the size adjustments needed. "I'll need a bit of time to modify it, but I can have it ready for you. It's not every day we get to outfit a wolf for adventure. The cost would be about 40 gold pieces. How does that sound?" Her eyes twinkle with the challenge, clearly pleased at the prospect of such an unusual task.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
Halia leans back in her chair, fingers steepled as she considers T'anks' request.
"Iarno Albrek... Cragmaw Castle... those are names that stir quite a bit of interest around these parts," she begins, her tone indicating a mix of caution and intrigue. "Directly, I don't have the information you seek, but," she pauses for a moment, her gaze fixed on T'anks, assessing her resolve, "I do have a...network of contacts that could prove useful in uncovering what you need to know."
Halia stands, walking over to a window that overlooks the bustling streets of Phandalin. "I can start making inquiries, see what I can dig up. Information, as you well know, is a commodity in itself, valuable and often traded just like the ore we pull from the mines."
She turns back to T'anks, her expression serious yet not without empathy. Halia extends her hand, a gesture signifying both a deal and a mutual understanding. "What do you say? While you're out there, keep your eyes and ears open, and report back anything you find. Together, we might just unravel these mysteries."
Narth's words hit Dude in a unique and unexpected way. This old human farmer seems to have acquired much wisdom throughout his lifetime. Dude chugs back the rest of his drink with one fell swoop. He gives Narth a nod.
...you're a wise man Narth, thank you for your time.
Dude stands up from his seat. Taking the empty mug with him, those two drinks are sitting pretty well with him right now. However, he's not quite done yet. He wonders to himself if anyone will show, but then a second thought crosses his mind - why is he so concerned if they show up? Dude has been alone most of his life, why is it any different now?
Dude walks over to the bar that Toblen is serving. He places the mug on the bartop, holds up two of his fingers.
Give me two more Toblen, I got a good one tonight...
Dude sits at the bar of the inn waiting for his two drinks. He contemplates the words of the old farmer. Love conquers all. Dude thinks of Kutshort and his love of Hopper... T'anks and her love for Klarg and the goblins... Dragmire and his love of chimneys and Eldritch Blasting... and himself. Is lettuce what Dude loves? Is it his Grandtorty? Or is that just because of the history of his family? Dude quietly stews in thought, unsure what his love will conquer, if anything at all. And who, if anyone, has love for Dude? For if it were not for Sildar, he just may already be dead...
Dude sits at the bar - waiting for his two drinks, and will remain at the bar.
T'anks watches Halia closely, following her as she moves. There's no way Sildar or word of him has beaten her here, surely? Is this a negotiating ploy, to make this information seem more valuable than it is? Could Halia have something to do with Iarno's disappearance...?
She once more casts her gaze across the room. The lack of Redbrands - are they afraid of Halia Thornton and the Miner's Exchange? What has she walked into here, what is she actually about to agree to... and what happens if she can't hold up her end of this arrangement? Dude's inevitable poor reaction when she brings this up will be the least of her concerns at this rate!
T'anks steels herself and walks forward, shaking Halia's hand.
Sure. Seems a fair enough trade to me!
I'll rendezvous with my comrades and begin the... acquisition, of our erstwhile little ruffian. Leaving word with Grista would doubtless be risky, but if you have need of me I shouldn't be terribly difficult to locate.
Task completed, T'anks bids farewell to Halia Thornton and makes her way to Stonehill Inn.
That is exactly what I was looking for. 40 gold is a steep price, but you have to pay if you want quality goods.
Is that the best you can do? I have in my possession, the weapons that once belongs to Klarg, the leader of the goblins who have been banishing travelers and supply lines.
Kutshort shows Linene the Morningstar and 3 javelins
Think of them, not as weapons, but as statement pieces. Just imagine how the Lionshield Coster will be the talk of the town, with everyone knowing that Linene is associated with the destruction of the goblins that caused so many headaches.
If you have no interest, I can always see if Barthen is interested. You never know when he might want to expand into weapons sales
Dragmire continues to sprint all around town, getting quite tired. After some time, he begins to run out of energy and rather than running, it is better described that Dragmire is running as if he is about to finish a marathon and is very winded. Sweat drips from his brow like has never happened before. His legs, stubby, are now also feeling like jelly. His vision begins to get blurry as exhaustion and sweat in his eyes begins affecting his eyesight.
Dragmire scrawls the words on his prestidigiated stoned tablet onto the ground at his feet. With his last bit of energy, he completes the transcription.
Dragmire collapses in the middle of town, in the middle of a road and takes a nap. He is VERY sleepy now.
Dragmire scrawls the words on his prestidigiated stoned tablet onto the ground at his feet. With his last bit of energy, he completes the transcription.
Dragmire collapses in the middle of town, in the middle of a road and takes a nap. He is VERY sleepy now.
((@VashTheStampede after I finish with Linene, can Kutshort put Dragmire on the travois so he can rest on the way to the inn?))
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
Linene Graywind appraises the weapons Kutshort offers with a practiced eye. The morningstar and javelins, while not rare, are certainly of decent quality and could fetch a fair price. She ponders for a moment, then meets Kutshort's gaze.
"klarg's morningstar, you say? And some javelins... They're decent enough, but it's going to take more than that to make a significant dent in the cost of wolf barding. Custom work, especially for animals, isn't cheap," she explains, her tone both firm and fair.
After a brief pause, she continues, "However, I appreciate the effort, and it's clear you're trying to do right by your companion there." She nods towards Hopper, a slight smile hinting at her fondness for animals. "I'll take the weapons off your hands, but instead of a direct trade, how about I knock 10 gold off the barding's price? That would bring it down to 30 gold."
You’ve got yourself a deal
Kutshort hands over the gold
After helping Hopper don the barding, Kutshort takes notice of Dramire laying in the street
Kutshort loads Dragmire onto the travois
come Hopper, let’s check out Barthen’s to see if he knows where Tuberius is, so we can say hello
Kutshort leads the motley crew of Hopper, an unconscious Dragmire, and a tired horse over to Barthen’s Provisions
((@VashTheStampede will Barthen pay out the reward from before or did he give it to Tuberius already?))
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
T'anks, after her visit to the Phandalin Miner's Exchange, makes her way to the Stonehill Inn. The streets of Phandalin are quieter now, the bustle of the day giving way to the calm of the evening. She pushes open the door of the inn, the warm light and murmur of conversation spilling out into the dusk.
Inside, the inn is alive with the evening's patrons. The air is filled with the smell of cooked meat, ale, and the earthy undertone of woodsmoke from the hearth. Toblen Stonehill, the innkeeper, is behind the bar, his presence commanding amidst the flow of orders and banter. His unique dialect, rich with flowery yet vulgar expressions, adds a certain charm to the atmosphere.
T'anks spots Tortle Dude among the patrons, engaged in conversation with some of the locals. The great room buzzes with the energy of stories exchanged, deals made, and friendships forged. She makes her way through the room, perhaps seeking a moment to confer with her fellow adventurers about their next steps or simply to find a place to rest after the day's endeavors. The Stonehill Inn, with its lively ambiance and colorful inhabitants, promises a well-deserved respite and perhaps the start of new adventures.
(( AND ALSO ZERO REDBRANDS
))
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
Kutshort, managing to coordinate the horses and the travois with skill, gently loads a surprisingly peaceful Dragmire into the makeshift carrier. Dragmire, exhausted from the day's adventures and perhaps a bit overwhelmed by the new surroundings of Phandalin, has succumbed to a deep sleep. Hopper, ever the loyal companion, pads silently alongside, his ears perked up and alert to any sounds of danger or disturbance.
The streets of Phandalin are quiet as they make their way towards Barthen's Provisions. The setting sun casts long shadows across the cobblestones, and the evening air carries a coolness that promises the night's approach. The town, with its rustic charm and bustling daytime life, now seems to whisper secrets of a life long past, of miners, adventurers, and settlers who once dreamed of fortune and glory.
Barthen's Provisions, known for its wide array of goods necessary for both townsfolk and adventurers, stands as a beacon for those looking to resupply or seek information. As Kutshort approaches, the light from inside spills out through the windows, casting a warm glow onto the path. The bell above the door jingles softly as he enters, alerting the proprietor to his arrival.
The shopkeeper, a stout young figure with a welcoming smile, greets Kutshort and Hopper, introduces herself as Elmina Barthen, then her eyes briefly widen in surprise at the sight of the sleeping Dragmire in the travois.
"Ah, so you're the ones Tuberius mentioned. We've been keeping an eye out for you. Gundren's been buzzing about this venture for months, and it's good to see his plans are still in motion despite his absence," Elmina states, her tone mixing concern for Gundren with appreciation for the efforts of Kutshort and the team.
Elmina reaches into a small pouch at her belt, retrieving two sets of gold coins. She hands 10 gold pieces to Kutshort and then another 10 gold pieces, with a specific instruction. "Please make sure Dragmire receives these when he wakes," she says, her tone imbued with the fairness and responsibility that come with her role as the proprietor of Barthen's Provisions. "And tell Tortle Dude there's another 10 gold pieces waiting for him here. Tuberius made it clear that it's important everyone is rewarded equally for their efforts. And please, when you see Gundren next, let him know that his brothers are camped somewhere outside of town. It's been about a tenday and I'm sure they'll be back any day now to resupply, but I'm sure they can't wait to see ol' Gundren."
Thank you for your kindness Elmina. I will be sure to have Tortle Dude stop by soon. Do you happen to know more specifically where Gundren’s brothers are camped?
T'anks approaches Dude over at the bar, her demeanor somewhat relaxed due to the lack of Redbrands but fully aware of her status and appearance. She finds herself once more becoming anxious; the Tortle is hard to read, and his desires are anything but clear.
Sighing, she takes a seat at the bar next to him and waits. When it doesn't appear as if he'll be the first to speak, she steels her resolve and begins.
I went to the tavern. We need to talk. ... About a lot of things, I would imagine.
Sighing, she takes a seat at the bar next to him and waits. When it doesn't appear as if he'll be the first to speak, she steels her resolve and begins.
I went to the tavern. We need to talk. ... About a lot of things, I would imagine.
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Dude hears her voice, his first instinct is to scoff. However, he remains in his typical stoic composure. This is unexpected to him. Or at least, most of this is unexpected. Dude looks down at the two new drinks that Toblen served him.
You went to the ta-
Dude bites his tongue for a moment and sighs. She yet again did not heed his words, she ignored him. But, she's alive. There is a part of Dude that wants to scold her, for taking advantage of him, for so much that has happened since they met. On one hand, there are the events leading up to this that lack any form of consistent logic. On the other hand... she showed up. Not only that, but she's the only one at this point that has.
...it's been a long few days for you.
Dude once again looks down at his two drinks. As much as he would love to consume them right now, the old farmer's story is still fresh in his mind. The timing of it all is not lost on Dude. He slides one of the drinks over to T'anks, remaining stoic.
...I imagine you could use a drink, devil...
...go ahead, talk.
...Oh. T'anks looks at the mug. This is... not what she expected at all. She gives Dude a quick, if puzzled, nod. Of course. Uh, thank you.
Taking a tentative sip of the alcohol, T'anks resigns herself to whatever whims the Tortle has in mind. At least he didn't kill her, yet. She chuckles to herself.
Yes, I went to the tavern. It's not as bad as Sildar made it out to be, though there are certain... issues, within the town. That I would like to take care of.
T'anks informs Tortle Dude of her encounters with Grista Dawes and Halia Thornton, of the Redbrands' seeming hold over at least part of the town, and of her misgivings therein.
She looks down at her mug as she finishes, now half empty. ...That was probably a mistake. With a heavy sigh, she continues; some of the finer details already becoming a bit blurred.
... So, that's about the size of it. 100 Gold pieces for you and the others, in exchange for the capture of this "Glasstaff" dolt. I'm not usi--she pauses. That's probably not true.--I use everyone. Just like they use me; like you wanted to use me to track down the Goblin Hideout.
I don't know what happened between you and Klarg, I didn't have anything to do with that! So don't... hold his misdeeds against me. I was using them, too! Kind of. Humans have never treated me with any amount of kindness, have never tended to the injuries they've caused me! The Goblin were different, the same! They took me in, took care of me, and I took care of them in kind. That's... that's it!
I never even told Klarg I loved him before. And when I did, I put an arrow into...
She falls short, looks down at her mug again. Empty.
It's really a shame there aren't any Gods she can pray to right now to hope she doesn't remember any of this in the morning.
I'm rambling. I'm sure that's not what you were asking about, let's get back on topic.
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Dude sits quietly for a few moments. Thinking about her words, wondering if she can be believed, let alone trusted. Dude and the Tortle family have a troubled history with goblins, with T'anks being in an alliance with them, this leaves Dude with conflicting emotions. Did she just open up to him? Or, is she trying to trick him to use him again? He glances over at her empty mug, noticing she downed her entire drink while rambling on. Dude's gaze moves to his drink, he's already had two. He chugs back this drink as he tries to process what she's saying. Placing the mug back on the bar counter.
Dude makes eye contact with Toblen, then holds up his hand for the number two, two more drinks...
...feel free to have another one.
When Toblen returns with the two more drinks, Dude once again gives the second mug a gentle push toward T'anks.
...or leave it for me, there's food here too.
Dude, yet to broach any of what T'anks has said takes a sizeable gulp of his drink. Before a gentle smirk crosses his face. Dude's ever-so-confident voice coming out in full effect.
...I don't know what you think happened with Klarg, but there's something you should know.
...while you all were busy swinging your weapons, shooting your... arrows... trying to... kill that creature that you love... I never swung my sword at him once...
Dude pauses, taking another sip of his drink while reflecting on his role and actions during that battle. His mind wandering, not really sure why he's making the effort to point this out.
If you think I'm using you, it is clear to me that you've never met a member of the Tortle family... or maybe that's what you want me to think.
Your... family... has a long history with mine...
Dude pauses again, taking another sip. A troubling thought entering his mind as it begins to make connections. A thought that Dude will not entertain at this time, for the atmosphere of the Inn has successfully drowned out all of the whispers, for now.
...as far as the Redbrands go. Toblen over here...
Dude's hand extends toward Toblen, who's been providing the beverages.
He's implied to me that they're a problem. But tell me, devil...
Is the money why you want to help rid this town of the Redbrands?
...or is it something else?
Dude pauses and thinks about his reasons for wanting to get rid of the Redbrands, his facial expression is one of curiosity and intrigue. He watches T'anks closely, wondering what she'll say or do next. Alcohol does loosen the tongue after all.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
Elmina shakes her head gently, her expression one of concern mixed with regret. "I'm afraid I don't have the specifics of where Gundren's brothers are camped," she admits, her voice carrying a hint of apology. "They tend to keep their exact locations a bit of a secret, you know, for safety's sake."
She leans in slightly, lowering her voice as if to share a confidence. "They're out there somewhere, likely in the hills seeking out new veins of ore. They're hardy souls, those Rockseekers, but with all that's happening, I worry for them too."
Thank you for your time. We will be back soon. For now, Dragmire needs a real bed
Kutshort et. al, bid farewell and head to the Inn, where unbeknownst to them, Dude and T’anks are waiting
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T'anks stares at the newly proffered mug, and at the mention of food greedily grabs a bread-like roll. It occurs to her that she hasn't eaten in a fair while, which isn't unusual given her predicament but nevertheless is doing her no favors with Dude's inquisition. She would have stolen something small from somewhere tonight, but... another debt. Another sigh.
I don't think Thornton's intention is to get rid of the Redbrands. If that were true she'd want them dead, not "brought to heel," right?
She finishes the roll and sips some more alcohol. There's no point holding back now. She grabs another.
And I don't have a use for money. She cautiously meets his gaze, hoping he understands her meaning. At best, it makes humans not hurt or shun me for a time. At worst, it gives them more reason to. Humans like the Redbrands.
So like I said, the money is yours... if you want to do that. I just want us, our deal, to be even.
She finishes off the second mug of alcohol and the roll, then looks around.
Drinking like this is not a good idea, she can't get a handle on where this is going.
But... I'm not actually a monster, you know. I dislike seeing the powerless being hurt the same as everyone else.
She looks back at Dude, frustration upon her face and sadness in her voice.
You're right, you didn't swing your sword at Klarg. You used it to block his rampage that would have killed me... and I don't understand why. But you didn't swing, and you got hurt because of it.
I want you to swing that sword so the Redbrands can't hurt anyone else. Because they aren't better than what Klarg became.
Dude takes a big gulp of his drink once more. Ah, so he's getting to know her a bit more it seems. He shifts his stance at his seat so as to face T'anks directly.
I know you're not a monster... devil.
Dude pauses, the irony is not lost on him. But alas, he continues.
I've seen monsters. I've heard tales, I've heard all of the tales... tales that you without a doubt... have not.
But let me ask you this.
...when one tyrant seeks to supplant another tyrant... how do you think they'd go about it?
Dude pauses, reflecting on his deep-rooted hatred for tyrants. His demeanour suddenly shifts to a smile and he lets out a deep belly chuckle.
Our deal?... what oh what are you on about? For you and I devil, are not entirely different. The coin you offer me to make us even? I'm not worried about such coin, but I worry of others love for material things.
For I have seen greed. I've seen it very recently when I've noticed the change of shape of Kutshort's bag. The way his shoulders hold, there is more weight on them. The newfound jingling sound in his backpack, that can not be mistaken for anything but a sudden acquiring of coin.
So while I got knocked out by your... ex... lover, you sat there crying over him, while Kutshort let his greed get the best of him... I needed to count on Sildar to help me. Someone who is no longer traveling with us...
As Dude's frustration begins to tremble in his voice, he pauses. He takes a sip of his drink and lets out a deep exhale.
...my point, devil. I don't do what I do for the coin, I don't do what I do for a favour...
I do what I do for a different reason that you have not figured out, devil.
Dude pauses, taking another sip of his drink.
So if you're doing what you're doing because you're trying to balance some scale... that's not my priority. My priority is removing the Redbrands, one way, or another.
T'anks stares at Dude bewildered, brow furrowed.
I don't understand! Are you testing me, still? Do Tortles not follow societal norms? I want you to do something, so I have to give you something. But not coin and not favor?
She places her head in her hands, regretting all the more accepting this handicap.
...This trial is too difficult, Dude. Please, speak plainly. What must I do to be accepted once again?
The gears in her head click, registering a more pressing concern. Her eyes snap back towards Dude.
Wait, Sildar tended to your wounds? I thought... I remember Kutshort felling Klarg nearby you, and I began to chase the remaining foe. But it's all so... unclear. I don't remember anything after that moment.
She straightens up in her seat, immediately regretting it as the blood rushes and the dizziness sets in. She winces.
I'm sorry I didn't help you while you lie injured on my account. If that's another reason you're distrustful of me, I... I do understand.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
As the evening wears on within the welcoming walls of the Stonehill Inn, T'anks and Tortle Dude find themselves at the end of the bar, drinks in hand, engaged in a heartfelt conversation. They're navigating the complexities of their relationship within the party, each trying to bridge any gaps that have formed through miscommunication or differing perspectives. It's a quiet moment of reconciliation and understanding, underscored by the crackling of the hearth and the subdued chatter of other patrons.
Just then, the door to the Inn swings open, drawing the attention of those inside. Kutshort steps through, the unmistakable figure of Dragmire asleep slung over his shoulder, and with Hopper, the ever-loyal wolf, padding in close behind. The sight is both endearing and slightly comical, eliciting a few smiles and curious glances from the inn's patrons.
Just then, the door to the Inn swings open, drawing the attention of those inside. Kutshort steps through, the unmistakable figure of Dragmire asleep slung over his shoulder, and with Hopper, the ever-loyal wolf, padding in close behind. The sight is both endearing and slightly comical, eliciting a few smiles and curious glances from the inn's patrons.
Dude's eyes shift to the entrance of the inn. Finally, they've arrived. His eyes move back to T'anks, poor thing doesn't seem to be handling her liquor all that well - too bad, the night's still young.
...seems like we'll have to pick this one up again later.
Dude lets out a soft chuckle, knowing very well he hasn't given her the answers she wanted.
Dude turns back to Toblen, holding up four fingers.
Four more Toblen, they're all here...
...seems like we'll have to pick this one up again later.
Dude lets out a soft chuckle, knowing very well he hasn't given her the answers she wanted.
Dude turns back to Toblen, holding up four fingers.
Four more Toblen, they're all here...
As Kutshort enters the inn, he looks around at the clientele. He notices Dude and T’anks sitting at the bar, with space next to them. With Hopper at his side, he makes his way over to them.
Kutshort gently lays Dragmire down on the bar. Dragmire immediately curls up to get more comfortable and mutters something in his sleep that sounds like “so I started blasting”
Dude turns to see Kutshort
Dude, you took off so quickly, I forgot you give you this souvenir from our latest adventure… T’anks, you may want to look away
Kutshort takes a carefully wrapped package out of his sack… it is Klarg’s severed head
Dude and Kutshort discuss nothing
After not talking
Kutshort explains what he learned from Linene and Barthen, including the fact that Barthen has 10 gold waiting for Dude.
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Dude's eyes shift to the severed head of Klarg. Why is Kutshort carrying this around? Dude had just finished telling T'anks that he did not swing his sword at Klarg. Now, Kutshort literally pulls out Klarg's head to offer Dude in front of T'anks. Wow - this is getting COMPLICATED. Dude turns his attention to T'anks, still reeling from the effects of the alcohol, maybe that's actually a good thing at this point. As Dude watches T'anks, a moment of worry passes over him as he remembers the look on her face from the first goblin head incident. Her sadness. Dude returns his gaze back to Kutshort. He opens his mouth with a certain calmness to him.
Kutshort...
I don't know what you think you know about me... or what you expect me to do with this... but I do not collect heads.
...get rid of it.
Dude turns around, looking at the four drinks he ordered from Toblen. He shoves one in T'anks direction, for the third time. He looks at Dragmire asleep on the bar counter, poor sleepy halfling. He slides a drink to Dragmire just in case. Finally, he picks up the third drink and hands it to Kutshort. Then turning to pick up the final drink, Dude's fourth of the night and takes a big gulp.
...we need to talk.
I know what you were up to in that cave, I've seen the change in your form and bag.
Share, Kutshort... share. This is the first and last time I will tell you. Everyone benefits from coin. I've taken care of our food, our drink, and...
Dude pauses, keeping it to himself for now that he has also made a deal with Toblen that secured rooms and beds. His mind wanders to his Grandtorty's sword and a look of frustration spreads over his face.
...and let me be perfectly clear about something else, Kutshort.
You are not to touch my sword again. Even more importantly, you are not to clean the blood off of this sword.
For it serves as both a reminder and proof...
Dude pauses, he shouldn't say too much at this point.
...but thank you for letting let me know I need to stop to see Barthen.
Kutshort, have a seat at the bar with those two. I heard we have entertainment tonight for the first time in a long time.
Dude, ever the aggressive drinker chugs back his fourth drink and steps away from the bar. He waits for everyone to have a seat and grab their drink.
Kutshort responds appropriately and splits the value of the coins he found in klarg’s belongings evenly
((Kutshort doesn’t share the lioncoster rewards because he spent most of it and no one else indicated they wanted to return those crates, so that is entirely his reward for his good deed that no one else wanted a part of))
((Kutshort doesn’t share the lioncoster rewards because he spent most of it and no one else indicated they wanted to return those crates, so that is entirely his reward for his good deed that no one else wanted a part of))
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
((Doing the math now. I’ll double post when the mathing is completed))(( So uh...how much is that for everyone?
((dividing 4 ways))
Kutshort gives each other party member 35 pieces of silver and 400 pieces of copper
After dividing up the loot, Kutshort places an additional 10 pieces of silver and 100 pieces of copper on the counter and grabs an empty mug. He places the coins in the empty mug and turns toward Dude
Take this up with you when you go perform. I know your work, you deserve it.
Then he adds with a wink
Maybe if people see something in there already, they’ll add to it
Kutshort gives each other party member 35 pieces of silver and 400 pieces of copper
After dividing up the loot, Kutshort places an additional 10 pieces of silver and 100 pieces of copper on the counter and grabs an empty mug. He places the coins in the empty mug and turns toward Dude
Take this up with you when you go perform. I know your work, you deserve it.
Then he adds with a wink
Maybe if people see something in there already, they’ll add to it
T'anks looks at the newly gathered party, unclear when exactly this has happened. Down at the coins and drink thrust upon her, at the... severed head, partially wrapped and set aside. Even without the effects of the alcohol she may not know what to do and make of all this.
I feel like I'm missing something, with these displays? But I should tell you corpses hold no meaning; when you die, there's nothing left. It's just an object. ...Or food.
She shrugs, pocketing the coins for now. Taking up her mug next, she casts a glance around the inn before settling in for this "entertainment" to begin. Which hopefully in no way involves Klarg's head flying through the air.
I feel like I'm missing something, with these displays? But I should tell you corpses hold no meaning; when you die, there's nothing left. It's just an object. ...Or food.
She shrugs, pocketing the coins for now. Taking up her mug next, she casts a glance around the inn before settling in for this "entertainment" to begin. Which hopefully in no way involves Klarg's head flying through the air.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
As people enter the Inn, Dude takes one more look at each member of the party. He lets out a wretched smile and mutters quietly.
...show time.
Dude grabs the mug of coin provided by Kutshort in one hand and a bar stool in another. Dude drags the stool across the floor to the center of the inn. The screeching of the legs and his Tortle figure causing those in front of him to move aside and everyone else to set their gaze on him. He stops at the middle of the inn, straightens the barstool, and placed the mug of coin on it. He looks at the growing crowd, a goofy yet confident smirk, the deep and somber voice of the Tortle rings through the Inn as he speaks.
Fine people of Phandalin!
It has come to my attention that your fine little town here has a major problem...
He pauses, letting out a deep chuckle.
You don't seem to have any entertainment!
So allow myself to introduce... myself.
I am Tortle Dude, a member of the Tortle family. It has also come to my attention that many, if not, all of you... have never seen a Tortle.
So why am I here? Well, I'm the entertainment. And I'm going to continue to be the entertainment for as long as needed until I feel the problem... is solved.
And if there's anyone who has a problem with that, you'll just have to run me out of town...
A confident smirk spreads across the Tortle's face as he pulls out his lute. Primed to get going.
...but let me tell you how I got here.
Dude starts strumming his lute in an upbeat rhythym, the plucked string sound traveling through the air of the busy inn. Dude's eyes fixate on the three at the bar - Dragmire, Kutshort, and T'anks. He begins to sing, deep and somber, but somehow maintaining an upbeat elegance.
Let me share with you a tale,
One with a lesson at the end,
Beware of the Triboar Trail,
Beasts on every corner and bend,
When you lock eyes with a stranger,
Beware of what they hold,
You may welcome in danger,
Fooled by a gaze white as the cold,
If you stare deep within the cave,
Beyond the wolves and the mists,
Don't dare try to be brave,
Deep down you know it exists,
So stay true to your word,
Or your wings will get clipped,
Become a flightless bird,
With your pride all but stripped...
Dude's lute strumming become more upbeat... it's believed this is what normal people call... a chorus? He walks in circles as he sings...
It's the whispers that you know,
If The Devil's in your head,
It's the river that will flow,
If The Devil wants you dead,
It's the whispers that you know,
If The Devil's in your head,
It's the river that will flow,
If The Devil wants you dead...
Dude sets back into the rhythym, his eyes shifting back to the party at the bar. Oh he's still going?
So I went down the chimney,
Kept you safe with my shell,
I might just seem spiffy,
But trust I've seen hell,
That voice that I hear,
It's one you will learn,
For the lesson is clear,
Would you just watch me burn,
For that blood on my blade,
Was my proof I could follow,
In the footsteps he made,
The cleaning makes me hollow,
I've heard of love in this town,
Long before where you are now,
As a Tortle I cannot drown,
But if I can help tell me how...
Welp, it's chorus time. Dude more energized than before as he moves around the audience.
It's the whispers that you know,
If The Devil's in your head,
It's the river that will flow,
If The Devil wants you dead,
It's the whispers that you know,
If The Devil's in your head,
It's the river that will flow,
If The Devil wants you dead...
Dude breaks out of the chorus into a different melody, less upbeat - more dramatic, almost like a war tune.
So if your favourite colour is red...
Seek out the Tortle you see instead...
For if you don't you're already dead...
And the four of us will take your head!
With the final words Dude finishes a loud stroke of the lute that reverberates through the Inn.
The final words of the song are clear. Dude is here for the people of Phandalin and to take care of the Redbrands - making it publically known while he directly calls out the Redbrands.
The rest of the song? Well, a Tortle is never really simple. For the people of Phandalin, it's an entertaining story for them to talk about amongst themselves. For those that travel with Dude? Who knows how many layers there are to this head of lettuce.
Dude waits for reactions from the audience, and the party...
...show time.
Dude grabs the mug of coin provided by Kutshort in one hand and a bar stool in another. Dude drags the stool across the floor to the center of the inn. The screeching of the legs and his Tortle figure causing those in front of him to move aside and everyone else to set their gaze on him. He stops at the middle of the inn, straightens the barstool, and placed the mug of coin on it. He looks at the growing crowd, a goofy yet confident smirk, the deep and somber voice of the Tortle rings through the Inn as he speaks.
Fine people of Phandalin!
It has come to my attention that your fine little town here has a major problem...
He pauses, letting out a deep chuckle.
You don't seem to have any entertainment!
So allow myself to introduce... myself.
I am Tortle Dude, a member of the Tortle family. It has also come to my attention that many, if not, all of you... have never seen a Tortle.
So why am I here? Well, I'm the entertainment. And I'm going to continue to be the entertainment for as long as needed until I feel the problem... is solved.
And if there's anyone who has a problem with that, you'll just have to run me out of town...
A confident smirk spreads across the Tortle's face as he pulls out his lute. Primed to get going.
...but let me tell you how I got here.
Dude starts strumming his lute in an upbeat rhythym, the plucked string sound traveling through the air of the busy inn. Dude's eyes fixate on the three at the bar - Dragmire, Kutshort, and T'anks. He begins to sing, deep and somber, but somehow maintaining an upbeat elegance.
Let me share with you a tale,
One with a lesson at the end,
Beware of the Triboar Trail,
Beasts on every corner and bend,
When you lock eyes with a stranger,
Beware of what they hold,
You may welcome in danger,
Fooled by a gaze white as the cold,
If you stare deep within the cave,
Beyond the wolves and the mists,
Don't dare try to be brave,
Deep down you know it exists,
So stay true to your word,
Or your wings will get clipped,
Become a flightless bird,
With your pride all but stripped...
Dude's lute strumming become more upbeat... it's believed this is what normal people call... a chorus? He walks in circles as he sings...
It's the whispers that you know,
If The Devil's in your head,
It's the river that will flow,
If The Devil wants you dead,
It's the whispers that you know,
If The Devil's in your head,
It's the river that will flow,
If The Devil wants you dead...
Dude sets back into the rhythym, his eyes shifting back to the party at the bar. Oh he's still going?
So I went down the chimney,
Kept you safe with my shell,
I might just seem spiffy,
But trust I've seen hell,
That voice that I hear,
It's one you will learn,
For the lesson is clear,
Would you just watch me burn,
For that blood on my blade,
Was my proof I could follow,
In the footsteps he made,
The cleaning makes me hollow,
I've heard of love in this town,
Long before where you are now,
As a Tortle I cannot drown,
But if I can help tell me how...
Welp, it's chorus time. Dude more energized than before as he moves around the audience.
It's the whispers that you know,
If The Devil's in your head,
It's the river that will flow,
If The Devil wants you dead,
It's the whispers that you know,
If The Devil's in your head,
It's the river that will flow,
If The Devil wants you dead...
Dude breaks out of the chorus into a different melody, less upbeat - more dramatic, almost like a war tune.
So if your favourite colour is red...
Seek out the Tortle you see instead...
For if you don't you're already dead...
And the four of us will take your head!
With the final words Dude finishes a loud stroke of the lute that reverberates through the Inn.
The final words of the song are clear. Dude is here for the people of Phandalin and to take care of the Redbrands - making it publically known while he directly calls out the Redbrands.
The rest of the song? Well, a Tortle is never really simple. For the people of Phandalin, it's an entertaining story for them to talk about amongst themselves. For those that travel with Dude? Who knows how many layers there are to this head of lettuce.
Dude waits for reactions from the audience, and the party...
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VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
)
With a look of shame on his face,
Kutshort stands and loudly cheers and applauds the performance
. He had considered tossing Klarg’s head around the room at the last line, but glanced at T’anks and decided against it.
**timelapse to some future time**
When the performance is over, and Dude eventually makes his way back to the group Kutshort sincerely apologizes for cleaning the blade.
In all their interactions, he never asked Dude why his bladder always looked dirty. All Kutshort wanted to do was show respect for Dude by not treating the blade like it was nothing. He cleaned it because he knew it an important blade, but hadn’t considered the emotional value associated with it.
**timelapse to some future time**
When the performance is over, and Dude eventually makes his way back to the group Kutshort sincerely apologizes for cleaning the blade.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
As the final notes of the song linger in the air, a moment of silence follows, a collective breath held in reverence for the story shared. Then, as if on cue, the room erupts into applause, a resounding appreciation for the tale and its teller. The citizens of Phandalin, from miners to merchants, from farmers to fellow adventurers, all unite in their acclaim. Their clapping, cheers, and calls for an encore are not just for the performance but for the spirit of unity and resilience it represents.
Any bard, looking around at the faces lit by both firelight and admiration, would likely feel a deep sense of fulfillment. This moment, this connection with the people of Phandalin, underscores the importance of their journey not just as a quest for treasure or glory, but as a narrative that resonates with the hopes, fears, and dreams of everyone present.
As the applause slowly fades, the party finds themselves not just as a group of adventurers in a tavern but as a part of a community, their story woven into the larger tapestry of Phandalin. The evening continues, marked by laughter, shared stories, and a newfound sense of belonging. For tonight, at least, the Stonehill Inn is more than just an inn; it's a home.
Any bard, looking around at the faces lit by both firelight and admiration, would likely feel a deep sense of fulfillment. This moment, this connection with the people of Phandalin, underscores the importance of their journey not just as a quest for treasure or glory, but as a narrative that resonates with the hopes, fears, and dreams of everyone present.
As the applause slowly fades, the party finds themselves not just as a group of adventurers in a tavern but as a part of a community, their story woven into the larger tapestry of Phandalin. The evening continues, marked by laughter, shared stories, and a newfound sense of belonging. For tonight, at least, the Stonehill Inn is more than just an inn; it's a home.
As the song comes to a close, Dude's less than subtle declaration against the Redbrands hanging in the air, T'anks raises her mug and nods her head towards the makeshift stage. In so doing she looks around, watching...
T'anks analyzes the body language and mannerisms of the crowd, looking for persons of interest. Those that show sympathy to the cause; those that have something to hide.
Task completed, she downs the rest of the drink and waits.
T'anks analyzes the body language and mannerisms of the crowd, looking for persons of interest. Those that show sympathy to the cause; those that have something to hide.
Task completed, she downs the rest of the drink and waits.
Dude soaks up the applause and cheers. He feels proud of his accomplishments, feeling like he is uniting an entire town with his songs. This is the sense of belonging and comradarie that the Tortle Bard has been looking for. In that, his eyes couldn't help but see his fellow adventurers at the bar when the Inn erupted.
Kutshort, who he had a minor impasse with was among the first to stand and loudly cheer for the Tortle. Perhaps Dude can be a bit temperamental, perhaps Kutshort had a few questionable moments, but Dude feels that their friendship is clear and will ultimately persevere.
Dragmire, sitting still atop the bar had remained quiet, but Dude suspects he may have enjoyed it despite his quiet nature.
...and then there's T'anks. Their relationship has been complicated thus far, mere moments after she begged him to speak plainly... he shares his tale layered with levels of meaning. But alas, she was there to raise her glass and nod in his direction, something that he found peculiar, but he also remembers... she's probably pretty drunk by now.
Dude makes his way to the bar and is approached by Kutshort.
Thank you, Kutshort. If you care to... know more, I will share the tale...
Dude pauses, glancing at the clearly inebriated T'anks who has now downed three drinks. He lets out a gentle chuckle.
...but it's perhaps a story for more, sober minds.
On that note...
Toblen!
Another round...
Dude motions to Toblen for yet another round of drinks, is Dude trying to get everyone drunk?
So... tomorrow, I'd like to make a few stops...
On my way here, right around the corner, I saw a structure that seemed to look like a shrine of some kind. I'd like to go there...
Naturally, I need to get my coin from Barthen.
And uh, I think we should stop by the town smith... or maybe a merchant so... uh...
Somebody doesn't have to blindly shoot a bow.
Dude lets out a playful chuckle, it's clearly a small joke about T'anks. He doesn't know how she'll respond.
Toblen has brought the drinks, and Dude takes another big gulp.
So stay up and have some drinks with me if you'd like... or... if you're tired...
I've taken the liberty of securing each of you a nice cozy bed at the Inn.
...I take care of my people.
Dude takes another big gulp and awaits responses.
Kutshort, who he had a minor impasse with was among the first to stand and loudly cheer for the Tortle. Perhaps Dude can be a bit temperamental, perhaps Kutshort had a few questionable moments, but Dude feels that their friendship is clear and will ultimately persevere.
Dragmire, sitting still atop the bar had remained quiet, but Dude suspects he may have enjoyed it despite his quiet nature.
...and then there's T'anks. Their relationship has been complicated thus far, mere moments after she begged him to speak plainly... he shares his tale layered with levels of meaning. But alas, she was there to raise her glass and nod in his direction, something that he found peculiar, but he also remembers... she's probably pretty drunk by now.
Dude makes his way to the bar and is approached by Kutshort.
Dude gives Kutshort a firm nod, but his face remains stoic.
Thank you, Kutshort. If you care to... know more, I will share the tale...
Dude pauses, glancing at the clearly inebriated T'anks who has now downed three drinks. He lets out a gentle chuckle.
...but it's perhaps a story for more, sober minds.
On that note...
Toblen!
Another round...
Dude motions to Toblen for yet another round of drinks, is Dude trying to get everyone drunk?
So... tomorrow, I'd like to make a few stops...
On my way here, right around the corner, I saw a structure that seemed to look like a shrine of some kind. I'd like to go there...
Naturally, I need to get my coin from Barthen.
And uh, I think we should stop by the town smith... or maybe a merchant so... uh...
Somebody doesn't have to blindly shoot a bow.
Dude lets out a playful chuckle, it's clearly a small joke about T'anks. He doesn't know how she'll respond.
Toblen has brought the drinks, and Dude takes another big gulp.
So stay up and have some drinks with me if you'd like... or... if you're tired...
I've taken the liberty of securing each of you a nice cozy bed at the Inn.
...I take care of my people.
Dude takes another big gulp and awaits responses.
Whenever you have the time, my friend. I’m always ready to listen.
Right now, you should mingle with your adoring public
Dragmire gets up from the table and finds himself lost in thought while sitting at the bar, empty glasses as large as his head scattered around his slightly slumped form. His inner thoughts become outer.
Feel like I've forgotten. I've forgotten it. I know it, but I don't. When I will know it again, I will have already known it. What is it I know? Words on paper. Not on paper. Stone. Words on stone. The words? More than one. The words form a thought. One thought? Three. Three thoughts, words on stone. The owl is not what it seems. The well is the owl, the owl is the well. The Old Owl Well is the key. One thought, but what about the two?
This goes on for a little while.
I know I've forgotten.... I've forgotten......... to remember.
That's it!
Dragmire casts Prestidigitation to almost recall the important contents of the stone tablet he created earlier following his conversation with the nice fellow.
OLD OWL WELL - EAST - UNDERFED
REDBRANDS - GLASSTAFF - RUGS - HERE
DARAN AFTERMATH - NICE
Dragmire looks at his creation and isn't exactly 100% confident he remembered everything correctly and orders another drink.
After some time (roughly exactly as long as everything else around him has taken perhaps) and after about a dozen iterations of tablets (Dragmire disintegrates each tablet in a dim glitter as he creates each new one), Dragmire beholds the following tablet:
OLD OWL WELL - EAST - UNDEAD
REDBRANDS - GLASSTAFF - THUGS - HERE
DARAN EDERMATH - NICE
Dragmire returns to the party's table and drops the tablet for all the view.
Guys. I met a really nice fellow earlier who told me some stuff and I wrote it down but I forgot but then I remembered again but only sort of but then I REALLY remembered it so I wrote it down again and here it is.
Feel like I've forgotten. I've forgotten it. I know it, but I don't. When I will know it again, I will have already known it. What is it I know? Words on paper. Not on paper. Stone. Words on stone. The words? More than one. The words form a thought. One thought? Three. Three thoughts, words on stone. The owl is not what it seems. The well is the owl, the owl is the well. The Old Owl Well is the key. One thought, but what about the two?
This goes on for a little while.
I know I've forgotten.... I've forgotten......... to remember.
That's it!
Dragmire casts Prestidigitation to almost recall the important contents of the stone tablet he created earlier following his conversation with the nice fellow.
OLD OWL WELL - EAST - UNDERFED
REDBRANDS - GLASSTAFF - RUGS - HERE
DARAN AFTERMATH - NICE
Dragmire looks at his creation and isn't exactly 100% confident he remembered everything correctly and orders another drink.
After some time (roughly exactly as long as everything else around him has taken perhaps) and after about a dozen iterations of tablets (Dragmire disintegrates each tablet in a dim glitter as he creates each new one), Dragmire beholds the following tablet:
OLD OWL WELL - EAST - UNDEAD
REDBRANDS - GLASSTAFF - THUGS - HERE
DARAN EDERMATH - NICE
Dragmire returns to the party's table and drops the tablet for all the view.
Guys. I met a really nice fellow earlier who told me some stuff and I wrote it down but I forgot but then I remembered again but only sort of but then I REALLY remembered it so I wrote it down again and here it is.
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VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
As the echoes of applause and warmth from Tortle Dude's performance begin to settle, T'anks takes the opportunity to survey the room, her gaze sharp and discerning. She looks beyond the immediate reactions of joy and camaraderie, searching for nuances in the crowd that might reveal deeper currents within Phandalin's populace.
Her eyes move methodically through the greatroom, noting the faces illuminated by the flicker of candlelight and the glow of the hearth. Most are openly appreciative, their expressions reflecting genuine enjoyment and a sense of community. Among these faces, T'anks notes several individuals whose enthusiasm seems to go beyond mere enjoyment of the performance, their clapping a bit more fervent, their cheers a touch more heartfelt. It's clear to her that these are the townsfolk who feel a deep resonance with the notion of standing against adversity, perhaps seeing in the party's tale a reflection of their own hopes or struggles against the threats that loom over Phandalin.
However, in the shadows cast by the room's dimmer corners, T'anks discerns a few patrons whose reactions differ. One or two individuals seem to withdraw slightly at the mention of the party's deeds, their applause perfunctory, their smiles strained. Their eyes dart around, as if wary of drawing too much attention, or perhaps uncomfortable with the spotlight being shone on the adventurers' efforts against forces like the Redbrands or the goblins at Cragmaw Hideout.
These subtle cues, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye, suggest to T'anks that not all present are allies or supporters of their cause. While they might not openly oppose the party, their reactions hint at unease or possible connections to the very elements the adventurers seek to confront.
Armed with these observations, T'anks is reminded of the complexity of Phandalin's social fabric, a reminder that in their quest to aid the town and uncover the secrets surrounding Gundren Rockseeker and the Cragmaw Castle, they must tread carefully, discerning friend from foe in a landscape where allegiances might not always be clear.
(( A lot of words to say you don't see anything blatant that calls out to you
))
T'anks is having visible difficulty following the finer details of conversation at this point, but seems to otherwise be enjoying herself. She thought she might have seen a couple of shifty individuals amongst the crowd, but lost track of them as quickly as she found them - and could not quite remember what they looked like after. She blinks, tuning back into the conversation.
Huh...? But I can see in the dark, why would I be shooting blind? And I'm plenty sober!
She rises from her seat, intent on showing the party that she's fine by grabbing one of the potential ruffians by the scruff and having some words with them. However, upon taking a step forward the room lurches and she begins to lose balance. Her tail deftly counterbalancing of its own accord to keep her upright. She sits back down, face a little more red.
...Okay, I'm a little not sober. She turns back towards the bar, resting her head against the cool surface, noticing Dragmire and his tablet. Give me a couple of minutes and I'll catch up. What's that stone about?
Dude nods, he turns, ready to go mingle - but then...
Dude lets out a gasp. A stone tablet, he always wanted to see one of those. Dragmire has made one of his dreams come true.
Dude lets out a deep chuckle, then turns to a pleasant smile.
Drunk devil's funny devil...
Dude pauses, placing one of his claws on the tablet. He finishes the rest of his drink with the other hand. He reads the tablet out loud.
Old Owl Well.. East.. Undead?
Redbrands.. Glasstaff.. Thugs.. Here?
Daran Edermath.. Nice!
...what's the Old Owl Well?
Dude scratches his head in bewilderment.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
(( Hey @GwJumpman what's the Old Owl Well? ))
))
Dragmire appears to lose himself in thought for quite some time. What feels like moments feel more like, say, a week.
Ah yes, the Old Owl Well. I know it... WELL! Baha! Bahahahaha!
I don't actually know where it is other than that it's east of here. We can probably ask some people if they've heard of it and see what we come up with.
Dragmire walks up to a bartender and asks them if they've heard of the Old Owl Well.
Ah yes, the Old Owl Well. I know it... WELL! Baha! Bahahahaha!
I don't actually know where it is other than that it's east of here. We can probably ask some people if they've heard of it and see what we come up with.
Dragmire walks up to a bartender and asks them if they've heard of the Old Owl Well.
VashTheStampede
Caterpillar Accountant
The bartender, wiping down the counter with a well-used cloth, pauses in his task to consider the question. He's a middle-aged man with a keen eye and a friendly demeanor, well-accustomed to the ebb and flow of stories that pass through the inn. "Old Owl Well, you say?" he muses, his tone shifting to one of intrigue. "Ah, yes, that's a place shrouded in a bit of mystery around these parts. An old ruin, they say, dating back to the days of the empire. Not many venture out that way anymore. It's said to be haunted, or cursed, depending on who you ask."
He leans closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "There's talk of a wizard or some such, making camp near the well. Folks say he's digging around, looking for something. But what he's after, or what he's found, if anything, is anyone's guess. Not much in the way of visitors or travelers returning with tales, so it's hard to separate the fact from the fancy."
T'anks perks up just a bit at the talk of a wizard, hate coursing through her but unable to stave off the night's poor decisions. She doesn't bother making the effort to try and sit upright. Or to properly enunciate. Voice a bit low, speech a bit slurred, she directs her thoughts to nobody in particular.
A wizard...? Could it be Ruxithid? We have to go.
Collecting her thoughts, she shifts and sets her sights on the barkeep. Speaking a little louder so he can hear her, she addresses him.
Are there any... landmarks? Nearby? How do we find it? The Well.