All Adventures are Local - Chapter 1

It's been nearly a week since each of you received a letter from Lady Elayne, the mayor of Bromwich. At times in your past you have served the town well, in fact some still do in some capacity.

You find yourselves in Bromwich as the morning starts the day before the famous Spring Festival. Though it is still early in the season, the rains and weather have combined to make for a muggy, and constantly overcast, spring. People wearing slightly fewer clothes than normal to avoid overheating as they go about their tasks. The streets of worn cobbles are caked with mud, and there is less foot traffic than you've noticed in the past for this time of year.

The mayoral mansion rises, like a red giant against the green backdrop of the woods, and the pathway up is well tailored. The clouds have started to break, letting the sunlight beam through.

Through personal initiative or escort by the new mansion guard, who doesn't seem to be sporting the uniform of the Bromwich Guard, you are all escorted into the mayor's mansion. Through the well-decorated foyer and beyond into a small conservatory overlooking a carefully groomed garden. A long table is laid out with chairs enough for all, a spread of light fare, and carafes of wine set out to breathe.

As you enter, you all take note of Lady Elayne, standing near the windows with wine in hand. Her elegant high-necked emerald green dress, accented throughout with ruby-red roses, flowed across her lithe frame like a river of lace and taffeta. Raven black hair, with just a small shock of white starting at one temple, is tied up in a braided bun.

Welcome, all of you. I'm glad you were able to make it. Please, sit, and have some food. We have much to discuss. she says, gesturing with her wine hand to the table, as she absentmindedly twists a slightly too large ring around her finger on the other hand.

Lady Elayne watches the interactions with a slightly bemused look on her face.

I'm afraid Mandrake is right Nàdair. While I would love to hear another of your - ah - infamous tales, there are a few concerns we should discuss. she says, sinking into her chair at the head of the table. With a wave of her hand, she sends her household guard out of the conservatory door.

Again, thank you all. As I mentioned in my letter, there have been numerous reports of threats that we need assistance with. Glenk, you're here at Mikhail's request. He's meeting with the Stormlash tribes from the mountains this week. Something about some goliath-forged weapons that we may be able to secure. You know how keen he's always been to speak with them. Either way, I wrote to all of you specifically because of the skills you can bring to bear on the issues at hand. she continues on, pausing occasionally for a sip of the brightly floral wine.

Effectively, any direction you look, we've received reports. Belfleur Starpetal reported that their caravan was attacked coming through Hadrigan's Swamp a month or so ago. We didn't give it over much consideration, given how prone to exaggeration their company has always been. However, we received a runner from Olgarch's Leathers. Their caravan was assaulted in Hadrigan's swamp as well, and the boy was the only one that managed to escape. she says, a dark look over her eyes before proceeding on. The dwarves of Glitterhall have requested aid. It would seem some of their 'honored dead' have been rising as spirits and attacking the outskirts of the stronghold.

The mayor takes a breath and cracks her neck slightly. Glenk, you're familiar with the reports of robberies and the stabbing deaths of a few folk in the merchant ward? I know you all haven't found a connection yet, but it's another one of the ones that bears investigating. Obviously, if you head off elsewhere, you'll need to assign a guard to manage that investigation. Her hand fiddles with the ring again, more nervously this time.

Nàdair and Mandrake, I'm not sure how much you've heard from Fegstaf and his boys? They tend to stay away from your warrens of Mosstop, for sure. Well, they've been trying to drive off a pack of wolves to the northwest of here. Nothing they have tried has worked yet. They can't figure why. Apparently the pack is getting aggressive near the town line. A few sheep and a goat have been killed. she finishes, sitting back with a heavy exhalation of breath. Those are the heaviest threats at the moment. I hope you can help us?

Hearing the agreeing murmurs to address the in town issue first Lady Elayne empties out her wineglass and gets up from her seat, eyes narrowing for a second before she speaks, her voice laced with disappointment. It was awful, milady, I'm lucky to escape with my life! Mindless creatures tearing off limbs and devouring them right in front of my own eyes! Sure, let's send in a single guard to do the job I assembled 6 specifically chosen people for. And what worries me about the "cute little puppies" isn't the loss of a few sheep, it's the fact that our well seasoned hunters can't keep them at bay. I think Mandrake's right, there might be more behind it, and our hunters aren't fit to deal with something more than a vicious animal mind. I did not ask you here to perform normal city guard jobs, I'd call back Mikhail from his little hobby project and tell him to hire more guards. I asked you specifically because of your proven skills to deal with more complex situations like these. If you want to do the guards' jobs then ask Glenn for the necessary paperwork and become a member of the guard. If you want to help Bromwich in a way that goes beyond the guard's duty I would like to hear which job you would like to do first and what additional people I should ask to help you. She snaps her fingers and promptly a spectral hand floats to the nearest bottle of wine, picks it up and fills up her glass until she says when and the hand gently places the bottle back on the table and disappears. Lady Elayne downs the entire glass and then gently sits back down in her chair, eyes scanning each face at the table.

Lady Elayne sighs heavily, leaning back in her seat. Please forgive me for my sudden outburst. You are right mister Stonebone, I asked for your expertise and should support your decisions. I think it's best you get the rest of the information of the attacks from the ones involved. If you want I can ask Klaas-Jan to escort you there. And you definitely can go see Fegstaf, but Piet is my personal attendant and will not be leaving with you, miss Raìthean. I will be able to host a gathering at dawn, beyond that time I'll have other duties.

Lady Elayne nods her head briefly as the spectral hand once more brings wine to her goblet with a snap of her fingers. You may want to check at The Fatted Calf GLenk. I believe the lad was given a place by the hearth there. Miss Frallich said it was the least she could do. she says, as the groups depart.

Hunting for hunters

Nàdair and Mandrake, you make your way through Bromwich towards the edge of town where Fegstaf has his hunting lodge. You both think about what could cause this behaviour but can't find any natural source for this behaviour. Not even dwindling food supplies have ever caused this, and there's no known infestation or manifestation of any kind.
As you turn around one of the last corners you hear loud voices coming from the shop of a leather merchant down the road and getting closer you can hear there's a heated argument going on between an unknown voice and Fegstaf. Outside the shop you spot a young halfling dressed in brown and green looking like he would be very content with disappearing completely.
But Børk! You know nobody brings you hides like Fegstaf, for this price (like Fegstaf)! If you won't pay I'll take them elsewhere! Said Fegstaf.

Super!

Traders
The rest of you head off towards The Fatted Calf, the three story inn near the main entrance to the city. It's steeply pitched roof stabs high into the morning light. As you get closer, you can see people heading out, ready to start their day, though not as many as normal at this time of year.

Walking into the inn, you notice the modest patronage as well. A nor.ally bustling breakfast service is instead replaced by just a few of the tables being occupied. Near the hearth, a small figure is curled up under a blanket, head propped on the wood pile.

Miss Frallich, the half-elven proprietor, greets you with a wave from behind the bar.

Hunting for hunters

As soon as you enter the store, Nàdair, Fegstaf turns his attention to you. Oh my little feylicious morsel, you know how things go when I get a bit excited! I'm just trying to sell this beautiful stag's hide and this cow that has just a little nip out of it, no big deal, but Børk acts like it's worth half its usual price! He smiles broadly at you, squaring his shoulders a bit and points at two hides, one in pristine condition, clearly once part of a great stag, and one, the cow, has clear marks of a wolf attack, puncture holes and a few small rips.

Børk smiles, sighs and shakes his head at you Mandrake. Ah, Fegstaf knows I'm not being unreasonable, I can't pay full price for that! The cut has healed well, thank you Mandrake for your help. He scratches behind his ear and makes a final decision. Right, Fegstaf, I'll give you 3 gold and 3 silver for it all, but that's my final offer!

Traders
Aye Deputy Stonebone. That's the lad. Called himself Ossrain. You can use the Stag Room. Anything you need, let me know I'll see what we can do to accommodate. Miss Frallich says, nodding back towards the hall leading away from the main room. You know that the Stag Room is one of the few private dining spaces The Fatted Calf offers, with heavy doors that keep sound where it belongs.

Traders

Traders

You all get into the private room, and spend a few minutes making it seem more comfortable. There is one large table that usually dominates the middle of the space, but two of the serving staff came and pushed it off to one side at Miss Frallich's request. She also sent in a plate of warm pastries and a carafe of tea with cream on the side. There are four large leather chairs around a pair of tables in the back corners of the room, flanking a large stone fireplace. There is a serving buffet space on one wall with a red cloth on it.

About fifteen minutes later, the boy and one of the servers come into the room, the lad still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Traders

Eli smiles as he watches the young boy brought in. Motioning for Glenk and Matthew to sit at the side of the room. Once everyone is seated, Elijah puts a pastry on a plate and sets it in front of the boy. As the boy becomes more alert, Eli begins to question him.

"I'm sorry to wake you lad, but my friends and I need to speak with you. First, you should know, that you are in no trouble. We are here to investigate the attacks, so we need to know everything you can remember."

Hunting for hunters

Fegstaf looks a bit bewildered at the four leaf rock in his hand. Uhm, well uh, thanks. This is man's work love, why don't you wait outside, yes? I'll be right with you when I'm done and you can help me make my wish come true... He takes the cow's hide from your hands, Nàdair, but not before you notice the puncture holes are just slightly bigger than the average wolf's nips, but nothing that seems unnatural. He smiles at you a flings a lock of his hair back before turning his attention to Børk. Sorry about that, yeah, do three gold and three silver and be done with it! Let's go make things in order so I can give that lovely lady all of my attention.

From behind, at the door, you hear a gasp of admiration as the halfling pokes his head inside the store, his eyes twinkling, mouth hanging open as he stares at Nàdair speechless.

Traders

The boy looks a little shaken when he realizes how many people there are in the room, and all of them full grown. He looks slightly underfed, and can't be more than eleven or twelve years old. There's not much I 'member sir. Uhm - he says, swallowing deeply before daring to pick up a small crumb of the pastry. We was comin' in from Marstaal's Point. Takin' the main road through Hadrigan's, same as always. I been a few times with the caravan now, I'm learning the routes! his eyes light up as he mentions that he's getting a chance to learn the trade routes, clearly a source of pride for the lad. When he looks around the room again, he remembers why he's there and tucks back into his story.

Well, we was comin' through the Swamp, just crossed over the forked crick, maybe a half-glass before? These nasty noises started, just shufflin' leaves and groanin'. Ol' mister Severn, he was the driver this run, he didn't know what it was, so he leaned on them mares pretty hard. I was in the back of the cart and felt us go faster, well as fast as you can in them woods. It wasn't long before the growling started. I peeked out under the canvas, and saw these - these things. It was dim, but enough that I could see 'em. Some was gray, some this sick green color. Like meat that's gone bad. It was damn - oops. he says, clapping a hand over his mouth, not sure if he should be saying the word. Sorry, it was really really awful. Like I told Lady Elayne last night, I'm lucky I got out alive! I hid in the cart when they were attackin', 'specially after I watched one of them pull Billy's arm off and start eating it. When they started takin' the wagon off the road, I just kind of, well, fell out of the back. Laid in the mud for a bit and then ran here. I knew we was heading down this road, so I just followed it and ran. Stole some early veggies from the farm on my way in, since I had no food. I told Lady Elayne I'd pay 'em back! he says, once again suddenly scared seeming.

At this point, it doesn't take much to realize the lad is still very worked up over the whole situation. The starts of tears well up just in the corner of his eyes.

Hunting for hunters

Børk sends an apologetic look in Nàdair's direction before turning away, leading Fegstaf to the counter.
Meanwhile outside the halfling looks up at Mandrake and smiles before taking a berry. Thank you, sir, I like Goodberries, we sometimes get them. He pops the berry in his mouth, cheeks turning red as Nàdair pats his head. He stares at her again, absentmindedly rubbing his right forearm and flinches, pulling his arm to his chest and looking back at Mandrake.
You're Mandrake the healer, maybe you know what I should do. I have seen the wolves, about a week ago. There were six of them in the cow pasture, four pretty normal looking, but two where huge, bigger than a horse! I saw one of the normal ones catch a cow and I ran at him, trying to scare it off, I was very brave! But when I got closer I saw this one was definitely bigger than a normal wolf too, I uh, I was pretty scared and made a sound that did make the wolf let go of the cow. He snapped at me and scraped my arm. Fegstaf was pretty angry at me for running towards them and I didn't want to make him more upset so I hid the scrape, thinking it would heal, but it hasn't yet... He peels back his sleeve, revealing a quite nasty wound.

Traders

On Matters of Caravans
Belfleur and her caravan are no longer in Bromwich. Their report was over a month ago. They've not returned since. It's not uncommon for a given company to only make a visit once every month or two. So it's not known yet if they haven't come back because something happened to them, because they don't want to risk it again, or because they just aren't planning on being back yet.

On Matters of the Swamp
Hadrigan's Swamp is a bit of local legend. Ages ago, near to the founding of Bromwich, the then mayor was named Edgar Hadrigan. A forceful presence with an eye to expand the new village. He had large hopes to make Bromwich a major trading city, and hoped to make it a seat of power in the little duchy that was there at the time. Seeing a marshy swampland as a place that could be cleared and magicked to give them a commanding border, he sent a dozen of his best fighters into that dreary place with a hedge wizard. The band never returned. Hadrigan was beside himself. He raised a band of farmers and tradesmen, almost forty of them. They stormed the swamp with torches and farm implements as weapons. They too never returned.

The next mayor named the swamp Hadrigan's Folly and swore that she wouldn't send another person to their death in that place. Over time, it lost the Folly part of the name and simply became "Hadrigan's Swamp". So long as those passing through are peaceable and keep to the road, there haven't been issues in generations.

This story is learned by any schoolchild in Bromwich.

On Matters of the Undead
Father Mikhael and the Brothers and Sisters at the Abbey of the Wayward Saint would likely have more information on the undead. They aren't precisely in town, but an hour or two ride south from the main gate. If you would like to see if you know anything else about it, either Nature or Religion would be applicable to see what you may recall.

Hunting for hunters

The halfling reluctantly lets his arm get examined. My name is Storm, but everyone calls me Hunter. Fegstaf is good for letting me train with him, I really like hunting and tracking, but he isn't the most patient man. I prefer to wait outside when he gets angry like today.... He winces a bit as Mandrake touches an edge of what's clearly an infected wolf bite, not too deep, but with black edges and judging from the wet on his sleeve a steady flow of pus. Judging from the size this wasn't made by a horse sized wolf.
Hunter continues, voice less steady as he knows his wound isn't right at all. Yes, it was the same cow. The wolf was pretty big but like a baby compared to the big ones! If that would've gotten me my arm would not have survived! But he wasn't playing, he was going to eat it! The third cow that farmer lost!

In general you both know that werewolves aren't affected at all by normal weapons, unless treated with silver, magic or magical weapons do have effect. The elves in Mosstop know there have been werewolves in the forest, even after they've all been chased out of Bromwich a little over 300 years ago. Since they've not been overwhelmingly harmful for the forest and it's inhabitants, keeping a normal balance intact, they've not interfered with them, yet they don't feel the need to protect them when a new hunt is set up.

Hunting for hunters

Hunter keeps his eyes on his arm, too focused on the examination to respond to Nàdair's comments other than a soft mumble. Playing? He says he's more man than I'll ever be...

When Mandrake holds up the coin Hunter frowns, looking up at the healer with doubt written all over his face. He then squares his shoulders, taking a deep breath and puffing up his chest before taking the coin and after nodding that he's ready pressing it firmly on his wound. AAHH! Hurry! It huuuurts! Please, please Mandrake! I want to stop! Hunter grunts between clenched teeth. As soon as the spell is done he drops the coin and you can see a burn mark, an exact copy of the coin, etched into his skin. The infected wound has healed completely.

Traders
The young boy looks up from his untouched pastry. M'name's Atticus, sir, from Marstaal's Point. There's not much there, but it's where I was born. he says, a touch of happiness in his voice at the mention of his parents. No sir, I didn't 'counter anything else. I hid anytime it was dark out and only traveled when it was bright. Bad things can't get you in the bright light, that's what Pa always said. he continues, pushing the food to one side.

Let's first determine IF wolfboy understands you....

Traders
Atticus looks up at Leviticus. I don't really know sir. It's jus' a thing he always said. Wash behind your ears. and Bad stuff can't get you in the bright. and Don't pinch a lady if she doesn't ask you for a pinchin.

Glenk, you get the feeling that Atticus is likely still a bit scared and a bit unsure of why all these adults are here asking him all the questions. It must be putting him off his appetite.

No, none of that sounds really good. Maybe I'm just not hungry. he says, eyes flicking down to the floor.

Hunter looks at the coin on the ground, panting heavily, holding the berries in his hand. His eyes move to the mark and then Mandrake and Nàdair and back to the mark. Hey, what does this mean? Why did it burn? What's happening? Hey!
He takes a step towards Mandrake and Nàdair, to get their attention and feels the berries in his hand, shoving them all in his mouth at once just as Nàdair starts singing. As he chews he feels the "healing song", which makes him confused and unaware of a different sensation in his body...
He keeps looking at his arm as the song ends and the berries are all gone, only getting his attention ripped away from it as Nàdair grabs his other arm. Au! Hey you're - But before he can say anything else his face turns pale and right as Nàdair gives him the charm he burps loudly, clutching his free hand in front of his mouth, eyes frantically searching for a bucket of some kind. Unfortunately for Hunter there's no time left and he bends over, throwing up right in front of him. Completely flabbergasted by the situation he tries to obey Nàdair and sit down, but he immediately bounces back as his body starts to swell up! It lasts about two seconds and as the swelling goes down Hunter sinks to the floor, still green around his nose, sitting like a limp doll, staring up at you.
Just then Fegstaf storms out of the store. WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT'S HOLY ARE YOU TWO DOING TO MY BOY?!

The Miss calls you Ossrain is that a family name? Atticus proper?

If nothing new there, Glenk feels satisfied with the questioning. He wants to talk to the innkeeper Miss Frallich to see if the boy has told her more or anything different.

These legends of the swamp seem to be more true then you'd want to believe missing peoples and the like. Should we gather Mandrake and Nadair see what they know of the wolves. And what we believe requires more urgency? Or talk to some of the victims of the robbeies?

Traders
Yessir, Ossrain is my family name. I know some of the other men use their family names, so that's what I told her. But my first name is Atticus, yes.

With no other questions, Atticus heads back out and tucks in by the fireplace, falling asleep once more. In talking with Miss Frallich, the story matches what he had told you. It seems he gave you somewhat more detail than she got, but the points he did tell her line up with what he told you. She mentions as well that he didn't really eat much when he got in, and has been spending a lot of time curled up sleeping in front of the fireplace.

Traders

Miss Frallich nods her head at the instruction for food as you all leave the inn. As you leave, the town is definitely in the full swing of the morning. People are now filling the streets, vendors are hawking their wares, and things seem to be bustling along happily. The impending spring festival seems to have lifted everyone's spirits.

Traders
Glenk bows his head and speaks quickly. I feel I may not be able to properly run down any of these other threats right now. I will head back to the barracks, see what I can arrange from there. he says, brow wrinkling, as he hands over a sheet of parchment with the names of the local victims documented on it to Elijah.

Be sure to meet up with the other two, figure out what they have found out. Make sure a proper plan is put together. Glenk finishes before turning on his heel and heading off leaving Leviticus and Elijah alone. Matthew had taken his leave somewhere along the way, you aren't really sure where.

Elijah, looking over the list provided by Glenk, you note that the nearest robbery victim, is Durgan Smeltsoul a local blacksmith. It's about a ten minute walk from where you currently are. Heading that way, when you arrive, you see that the forge is already active and the sound of his hammer and anvil are loud and proud.

Durgan, face covered with a layer of sweat-soaked grime turns at the sound of the visitors. His dirty blond hair is matted down and his arms are covered with fine lines of scars and burns. He drops his hammer down as a smile breaks over his face. Aye, I'm Durgan. Also, good festival to you Nàdair! It is good to see you again. I'm afraid I don't rightly know the rest of you. he says, voice roughened by years of ale and smoke inhalation.

But if yer here about the robbery, I can give you the same answers I gave the guard a few days ago, unless you have new questions. he says, wiping his hands on the back of his pants.

Elijah shakes his head quickly before speaking again. Mr. Smeltsoul, I was wondering if I could bend your ear for a moment. I understand you reported the theft of some chairs? I've been working the the deputies on this. he turns to the rest of you, It may make more sense for you all to head off on what you were looking into. Glenk left us to go back to his duties, and I really think I should help him with this whole robbery thing.

---

Roddric, you'd heard that Mandrake the Healer was in Bromwich today, through general word of mouth. When you leave the inn you're staying in at the moment, you have to make your way through the trader's district. As you wander, you see a ragtag group of folks talking to the blacksmith, including someone that looks more like they belong among the trees than in the city. You have a strong feeling this may be the healer that you had heard so much about.

The rest of you recognize the letter as the one that summoned you to the meeting THIS morning, not tomorrow.

As the lot of you prepare to set off for the temple, Elijah steps out of the blacksmith's shop.

Oh, if you lot are headed to the temple, could you deliver the information we discovered from the young lad? We think there is an undead infestation in the swamp, but being coordinated by something. Perhaps they have some information? he says before wishing you all good day.

The first part of your walk is through the ever more buzzing town. More and more people are putting up decorations for the spring festival; silky fabrics in soft yellows and peachy oranges hung across the streets, from balcony to balcony, pots with flowery plants on windowsills, even a few garlands with light green leaves and white flowers around door- and window frames. The people are smiling and chatting happily, clearly unaware of the dangers around them. You pass Summerdew Conservatory, one of the schools in town, with kids out in the courtyard playing games and singing songs. Mandrake waves, Nàdair smiles, Roddric listens to them talk about the happenings with the puppies.
A bit further down the road you pass the Blessed Guidance of Ilyra of all Masks, a vanity project orchestrated by Aartskleinum Groodgramli Greatbraid, the highest man of faith in the kingdom. He thought Bromwich, a rich town visited by travelers from wherever the wind blew, needed to show its loyalty to Ilyra, and maybe the power and wealth of the faith in the Queendom Ainran. Greatbraid intended to make Bromwich the spiritual capital of Duiz-Dnalloh, the barony in which it lies. He asked the most renowned architect of the time, Retsnom, to create his greatest, and what turned out to be his final, masterpiece. Now, a few decades later, the massive construction with intricate spires and lots of statues hewn into the walls, was just halfway there, but no builders had been seen working on it for the past few years. In the beginning the spiritual leaders and baron , had pumped a lot of money in this project, but soon scandals came to light: the architect rarely showed his face, spending his time in the local taverns rather than checking on the builders, who decided that no checking meant room for slacking. Things escalated when Retsnom died and a new architect had to take his place; choosing one took several years and then part of the construction had to be taken down due to faults. At some point the money flow stopped, the Aartskleinum left disillusioned. Voices are rising about a new team of builders coming to Bromwich, but the people in town don't really believe in the ostentatious building to ever be finished. Most of them never even wanted the creation in the first place, much preferring to stick to the little Abbey just out of town. Passing the Blessed Guidance, you feel the mood of the rest of town doesn't fully reach it, a small stain on an almost perfect sunny midday.
Once you pass through the gates of Bromwich the influence of the countryside is immediately noticeable: meadows filled with wild flowers, buzzing with insects collecting pollen and nectar. The surrounding woods are full of birds singing and chirping at each other. You see only a few people out, women collecting flowers or lazily walking young lovers. About an hour outside of town the scenery changes, the flowers start to be scattered around just in small patches and the trees surrounding the grasslands growing taller and darker. There are no more insects and the birds have changed, a murder of crows filling one of the trees near the road, following you with their eyes. Another half hour down some of the trees have not yet gotten their new leaves yet, empty branches sticking through weirdly brownish coloured canopies, the grasslands are barren of any flowers and some larger birds of prey circle round above. The land doesn't feel sick, it just seems different, less filled with life, like something eerie is nearby, keeping all small things at bay.
Not much after that the Abbey of the Wayward Saint comes into vision, surrounded by a small garden, a colourful oasis in this weird environment. As you come closer you see a woman watering the plants, once she hears you she turns and waves, smiling broadly. Those that have been there before recognise her as sister Eloise.

It's common knowledge that the Wayward Saint was founded by a wandering All Mask mother. They visited Bromwich and found that it was in need of a safe haven for both inhabitants of the town and all travelers coming near it, regardless of which mask they were devoted too. Because they didn't want to be bound directly to the town they let the little temple be built a bit away from the town's walls, but close enough that anyone could still come by whenever they'd like. Soon the Wayward Saint was well known among both the townsfolk and traveling traders, due to the everlasting friendly and hospitable way everyone was always treated.
Nobody remembers the name of the mother who founded the Wayward Saint, or maybe nobody ever knew it, she always just called herself "mother". There are whispers all around that it was actually Ilyra herself who created the temple and it's accepting ways.
Now it's run by father Mikhael, who honours the philosophy of the Wayward Saint to his best capacity, accepting all into the temple who needed safety, advice, or just a calm space to hide from the world, as long as they respect the temple and all that are inside. Since they get a lot of visitors usually the clergy are very up to date on the latest happenings in and around town, usually having a lot more information than the average Bromwichian.

Sister Eloise drops her arm, blinking a few times in slight confusion and awe as she looks up and down Nàdair. Miss Nàdair! Many springs look better on some than others I see! How may springs has it been? Her eyes move to the two men in the little group, first Roddric, at who she smiles a very comforting and relaxed smile, not pressing for any contact, then Mandrake and her breath stops momentarily. In a few quick strides she closes the gap between her and Mandrake and she reaches for his hands, holding them in hers like they're priceless artifacts. Mandrake the healer. It's always an honour to have you here with us. Please let's go inside! Father will be saddened if I keep you out here to myself! She gently moves Mandrake's hands until the palms touch, looking at them for a split second before turning and leading the way inside.

Sister Eloise shakes her head. Too much Mandrake, I think it's best I leave it to father to tell you. Something is out there, the dead are coming back. We hear screams and moans coming from the graveyard at night. She pauses at the door, hand on the knob, turning around and softly adding in a half scared whipser. Father forbade us to look, but something moves through the shadows at night and it keeps me from sleeping. She stares at nothing for a second, her mind far away for a second, then looks back up, forcing a smile and pushing open the door. Father! Look who showed up suddenly! Mandrake the healer is here and he brought two friends!

Sister Eloise frowns at Nàdair. Surely you know we are open for any person coming or our church, Nàdair. We don't go around asking if they howl at the moon!
Once you step inside the church you step into a pool of light, small patches in different colours created by the large stained glass windows on the other end of the light wooden temple. Small squares in the rosette show all masks of Ilyra, with little depictions of what the masks represent around it. Below the rosette are five pencil shaped windows with images of the first four known mothers and fathers of the Wayward Saint and an "empty" one in the middle, just light yellows and oranges, shining like a sun. Small flecks of darkness move across the floor; shadows from the large chestnut in the backyard.
Three rows of benches face the stained glass window, right beneath it, facing the benches, are four wooden chairs. Where in other churches Kwartiers, Helftkleini and other clergymen sit a level above the faithful, in the Wayward Saint everyone is on the same level. Father Mikhael, like most fathers and mothers before him, preferred to speak to the faithful more like in a conversation, planting seeds of thoughts in their minds, rather than telling them what's right or wrong. Often he starts pacing back and forth, seemingly finding the right words to say written on the floor.
Now Father Mikhael comes striding towards the three of you with a broad happy smile on his face and arms wide open. Mandrake, Nàdair! It's so good to see you two and your friend. How could you guess what's in my oven Nàdair? And you, friend, excuse me if we met before, I see so many faces and my old mind doesn't store names the way it did once, Father Mikhael and you are? By now he has reached the group and reaches a hand out to Roddric.

Father Mikhael places his second hand over the handshake with Roddric. The door will be always open.
He then let's go of Roddric's hand and turns to Nàdair, smiling a slightly shy smile as he pulls her into a big hug. I will still welcome you if you do and bake you a special batch.
After 4,6 seconds he releases her, turns to Mandrake, opening his mouth to speak, but before a single word cones out Mandrake speaks first. Father Mikhael listens patiently, crossing his arms and frowning. When Mandrake stops talking father shakes his head. It's worse than I thought. Had I known innocents had been attacked by those rampaging the graveyard at night.... I didn't want to bother the mayor right before Spring Festival, I thought it were some wild animals digging up the graves. I feared it was something more sinister, but this.... This is serious. There has to be a necromancer pulling people from their graves, controlling them to do harm to innocent tradesmen! It's painful to see the school of necromancy used in such a cruel way. Bringing back the dead breaks with Ilyra's design! Death, just as life, has meaning and purpose and should be respected!
I have to ask you to please take care of this issue fast! I have some holy water, which can be used to battle the undead, and I'm sure you'll be able to find the necromancer out on our graveyard one night soon.
He starts moving to a door on the other side of the room, waving for you to follow him as he continues to speak.
Now for the werewolves organising packs, I can't hand you a solution there. I have heard of Helftkleini using their religious magic to cure men of lycanthropy, but it's not in my abilities to do so. I could write to the nearest Helftkleinum, but that would take time. I feel the druids might know more, maybe even have heard of other cures. It actually surprises me, Mandrake, that you didn't go to see them first.
Now that I think about it, have either of you ever met Oma Salie?

Sister Eloise glances at father Mikhael, nods and heads up the stairs to prepare three beds for their guests. Father Mikhael shakes his head as he pushes through the door into a small room stocked with all kinds of stuff meant for sermons; his personal stole, shields with masks on them, candles, several boxes of incense and a big burner, stacks of books, a wooden pentagram, strings of beads, crystals, a praying wheel, a stack of face down cards, rabbits' feet and cabinets full of items hidden from sight. He walks up to a cabinet, pulls one door open to reveal dozens of vials with various coloured liquids and a large crystal stoppered carafe filled with a clear fluid that he takes out and places on the large table in the middle of the room. He looks up at Roddric.
What reason could the necromancer have? It's a good question. The traders route is the life vein of Bromwich, so attacking the traders there is a direct assault on the town, without actually attacking it. It wouldn't surprise me if they're not working alone, maybe someone is giving them orders. Of course I'm just speculating, maybe it is just wanton destruction they're after, they wouldn't be the first to get lost in the power of necromancy. Raising someone from the dead isn't something you learn on your first day of necromancy and dealing with the ability to control life and death like that can be hard on the mind and conscience.
The way I see it nobody is purely "good" or purely "evil". Everyone is doing what they feel is the right thing to do, wether it's for personal gain or to improve the world. Like I said, I feel that raising the dead is against Ilyra's wishes for our world, but I understand there are people that feel differently. Any form of power that gives people the ability to control other people can be used for "good" or "bad" and it's just a matter of perspective to find an act fitting in either category. I do strongly feel this necromancer should be stopped, but I cannot judge their actions without hearing their motivation to act in this manner.
Father Mikhael smiles apologetically, knowing he easily falls into one of his monologues when dealing with complex situations as this one and also realising his previous words were tainted by personal views, rather than the objectiveness he usually desires to advocate. So he quickly focuses the attention on the carafe in front of them. This is the holy water, I will give each of you two vials. I haven't had the need to use it on an undead myself, but I've been told you need to hit them with the water. I personally wish the undead are returned to their rightful state, but be careful, to some necromancers the undead are like children. I also need to say that I don't know IF the necromancer will come tonight. The visits to the graveyard have been fairly regular, but not every night in a row. If you can manage to bring the necromancer into the church, alone, I would like to speak to them and maybe provide help if they're being forced from upper hand. But please, above anything, be careful.
At that moment sister Eloise enters the room to tell two rooms have been readied for guests. Behind her sister Bellaen and brother Duergan peek around the door, curious about the three guests.

Mandrake looks up as sister Eloise enters the room, having been lost in thought through some of father Mikhael's explanations. His eyes move to the window on the other side of the room, judging the time of day. I'm very sorry Nàdair and Roddric, but I have to ask you two to stay here without me tonight. I don't want to wait until tomorrow to have a chance to confer with the druids about the things happening around us. I gave it some thought and it seems foolish to wait another day to get help from them. I'll be going there now, alone so I'm faster, ask them what they know and tell them what we know. I will join you at the meeting with the mayor in the morning. Without wasting another second he turns, gently moving past the clergy and swiftly leaving the Wayward Saint.
Before everyone is fully recovered a voice comes from down by the door, wondering what's up with the graveyard looking all overthrown. When you all move back into the temple's main area you see a massive man, looking ready to chop off some undead heads. Father Mikhael's face lights up, relieved he probably won't have to volunteer joining Nàdair and Roddric on the graveyard. He quickly welcomes the new guest, explaining the issue of the necromancer stealing bodies and asking him if he could possibly make time to help them this night. The man laughs a deep heavy laugh, leaning on his greataxe as he extends a hand towards father Mikhael, introducing himself as Mönkhbat.
Sister Bellaen leads the guests to the kitchen, sitting them down and giving them some bowls of stew with a side of leaf muffins, while father Mikhael prepares the vials. Over dinner stories are exchanged about who is who and where everyone came from. It's quickly decided tomorrow Mönkhbat will join the others at the meeting, for he would absolutely be a good addition to the very thinned out group. Afterwards, once father Mikhael joins them and hands them the vials, they have a short discussion of tactics, where they would hide and wait for the necromancer and at what hour they'd go back inside to sleep. A few songs of Nàdair later the sun is set completely and armed with the vials (and other weapons and tricks) they head outside, hiding at three places around the graveyard, but able to keep contact with each other. They sit and wait, even staying a bit longer than the agreed upon, but nothing appears on the graveyard. The group gathers, making their way back to the temple. Inside they find all four of the abbey's inhabitants to sit closely together, waiting restlessly for your return. Upon hearing nothing showed itself a mix of relied and disappointment shows upon father Mikhael's face as he tells everyone to quickly go to bed, knowing the leaf muffins will help somewhat with the exhaustion, but won't make them able to complete forget resting.

A few short hours later sister Bellaen brings muffins to your bed, waking you up gently yet urgently to get you on your way to Bromwich in time for the meeting. Eating definitely helps push back the heavy feeling in your bodies and soon you find yourselves outside, breathing in the crisp air of the very early morning, only the smallest hints of light on the horizon. You make your way to the town's edge without anything out of the ordinary happening; you see and hear how the forest is waking up, a few deer having breakfast just outside the forest's edge, a cacophony of bird songs loud in your ears.
When you reach Bromwich the gate is still closed. The guard opening it for you is clearly not a morning person, grumpily wishing you welcome to Bromwich and to enjoy the spring festival. The town is unusually busy with people finalising the preparations, building up stalls for food and drink and putting a finishing touch on the decorations of the stage outside the mayor's house.

Walking through town you see a young dwarven woman headed in the same direction as yourselves, determination clear on her face and in her gait. She pauses just outside the door, there's no guard outside and she seems unsure if she should just enter. Nàdair, a bit disappointed Piet is not waiting for them, doesn't hesitate and while saying good morning to the woman she opens the door, allowing her to step in first. Inside you find two more figures that are known to at least one of you: leaning against the wall, arms crossed, is Alata, a druid man Nàdair has met before. And on the other side is a beautiful half-orc woman, Rose, holding a large bottle with a dainty little bow from the local brewery she's known to work for by those familiar with the town, besides that Mönkhbat knows her from their youth in the Mistspire Mountains. Through one of the doors you can hear the mayor's voice.

Nàdair walks to the "meeting room", mindlessly playing around with her lute. She will take the longest way just to see if anyone interesting is in the mansion ;)

Just as Nàdair is walking past the room you heard the mayor speak in the door swings open and lady Elayne (dressed in a light yellow and peach soft silky dress) stands in the doorway, with right behind her a gnome dressed in a long crimson red jacket, tails almost hitting the floor, two rows of gleaming golden buttons, about 40 in total, with golden embroidery around them reaching from his neck down to his waist, and intricate golden embroideries on his sleeves. He has raven black hair, combed to one side, and a large black mustache curled up on the ends. In his hand he holds a top hat, which he swings around when he speaks. Ze elephantse will be waitzing for you lady Elayne. He bows and turns on his heels, heading out the door.
Lady Elaine looks down the hall at the assembled people, her gaze moving to Nàdair with both eyebrows raised as high as they can go. What happened here Nàdair? I heard Glenk had to step away, but it seems you're the only one left of the people I spoke to yesterday. She looks down the hall again, noticing Roddric. Ah, Mister Bhommu, I'm glad you managed to join us today, I was afraid you hadn't received my letter or weren't able to come on such short notice, thank you for joining us now! Also thank you to everyone else that's here, much to discuss, so please follow me.
She steps out into the hallway and quickly walks a few doors down, leading you all into a meeting room, instead of the conservatory yesterday's meeting was held. Piet is standing in a corner and as Elayne moves to the head of the table so does he. Upon seeing Nàdair Piet's eyes grow big and he is about to turn around and run out a side door, but Elayne addresses him. Piet, im expecting Rose from the brewery to give us an update, could you please tell her I don't want to waste her time making her wait for her, except her message and let her get back to work. Thank you. She nods and he rushes out the door.

Lady Elayne nods in understanding as Nàdair gives her the very short update, motioning for everyone to sit as well, but not at all looking like her feelings are hurt if anyone decides to stay standing. She waits patiently for everyone to say their piece. Her eyes moving to Alata for a split second when he speaks and her hand reaches for a glass of wine that's not there, before pulling it back. When everyiy is quiet again Elayne clears her throat and nods once. Right, a lot has happened. Before I come to you, Maighan, and the issues in Glitterhall I want to quickly discuss the matters the group investigated yesterday. I assure you we are aware of the problems and I did ask the group to look into it, but as you will find out we're dealing with some pressing matters of our own in and around our town that requires much of our heroes here. Almost the entire city guard is busy dealing with some seemingly random robberies and deaths, as well as protecting anyone in town for today's festival, and any other day. Unfortunately they can't spare enough men to deal with either your or our problems without help. Elayne sits up more straight, folding her hands in front of her on the table.
So you went to the Wayward Saint and discussed the problems with the undead attacks and father Mikhael thinks it's the work of a necromancer? Does this mean they've witnessed something? That would mean they're closer than I thought! The boy spoke of an attack in Hadrigan's swamp, are they making their way up to town now? Is the Wayward Saint in any immediate danger? What about Hammonds farms? Has anyone been there to check on their safety?
When you left here yesterday you and Mandrake were headed for Fegstaf. I heard he's trying to reach hunters from nearby towns, gathering a big hunting party. He's been spotted wearing some old family heirlooms, does this mean the attacks involve werewolves? I feared as much, those bastards weren't happy when I refused to take them all in. She reaches for her wine again, closing her eyes and sighing when her hand returns empty. If anyone starts to speak she raises her hand to shush them as she continues.
Alata, I assume that if you're here and not Mandrake the druids have other plans for him and sent you to replace him? Meaning the druids are now aware of the undead and wolf situation? Can we depend upon them for more help for these matters if needed?
And Mönkhbat, whatever brought you here it couldn't have been at a better time. If you're willing to assist this group in dealing with the threats I would feel they're a lot safer with a warrior like yourself on their side.
Which brings us back to you Maighan. I understand you can't fight your great-grandmother, even is she's just a spirit. The last reports we received gave me the impression that, although a pressing matter, lives were not yet in real danger. I assure you I'm sending some troops in the direction of Glitterhall as soon as I can miss them, but I can't send them out and let my own people without protection. It's a difficult decision to make and I don't make it lightly. I gave the group that gathered here yesterday a similar choice and now most of them are dealing with the treats inside Bromwich rather than the immediate threats outside the city.
Now, I can't speak for anyone but myself, but I firmly believe in honour and returning a favour, as our settlements have always done through the years. Maybe if you joined this group on their quest to stop the undead attacks and the wolves they would feel inclined to help you with the spirits afterwards She raises her eyebrows, looking quite intently at everyone gathered in the room, before motioning across the table to finally give the others a chance to respond.

Speaking of fistfights.... There's this one tale about Maighan's father that has been going around, more "heroic" each time you hear it: story goes he has singlehandedly (literally, he never put down his beer) stopped the biggest brawl of the century. Details are fuzzy, everyone involved was quite intoxicated and he never tells it the same way twice.

Roddric and Nàdair think about spirits for a second or two, both coming to the same conclusion: spirits are said to be the immortal energy inside every living being, but you don't know what could make them act like this.

Lady Elayne looks relieved when Maighan seems to understand the situation. She glances at Nàdair with narrowed eyes as the chalice of wine proves to be an illusion when she moves her hand through it. Then, when everyone is quiet again she speaks calmly, picking out her words as she goes.
Right, I had hoped you could start dealing with the wolf situation immediately - I rather see you all manage this in a civilised way rather than just shooting at anything that moves - but I don't want to risk an attack on the festival without you here to help protect us all. If we are indeed dealing with a necromancer gathering a group of undead and moving towards us rather than away, we should assume they're plotting an attack on the city itself, and what better day than today, when the gates are wide open and everyone is distracted and... Lady Elayne takes a deep breath, holding her hands firmly folded together so she won't grasp at the illusion again. I ask you to stay in town today, watch out for anything that's not right. Discretion is key, I don't want the festivities to be disrupted, this is our moment to show it's still safe to visit Bromwich.
I do expect you to address both the wolves and the undead issues and then, if you want and can, I think it would be good manners if you help Maighan and the others in Glitterhall take care of their spirits.
I only ask of you to give me updates whenever one of the tasks is finished, or if you need more help, other than that please don't waste time coming back here.
Elayne fishes a small round silver medallion on a silver chain from a pocket inside her dress and flips it open to reveal one side is completely coloured deep orange. She quickly closes it and puts it away again, getting up from the table. Now, if there are no further questions, I have to get this festival started. She waves a hand towards the door they all entered through.

Lady Elayne looks at Nàdair. We don't know what the druids will do, we don't know when the druids will take action, and I do not want to start a war with the werewolves, which might happen if Fegstaf attacks them. There's no way I can stop Fegstaf from hunting them, so I'm asking you to take care of it first. As for those bastards, now is not the time to get into the details. Let's just say the werewolves and I had a small disagreement about their location. Now go and let me work! She turns away and moves through the same door Piet used before.

Once you find yourselves outside the town is buzzing with activity. A large crowd has gathered in front of the stage where the mayor will soon have her little speech. Right now the stage is occupied by six elephants, the size of a sturdy dog, doing circus tricks; standing on their hind legs, blowing hats of people's heads, even making a small pyramid. The streets around town have turned into a river of bodies flowing two ways, in some places people keep right and the two "streams" move seemingly undisturbed, while in other places people move left and right bumping into each other, creating the ideal environment for pickpockets. Stalls of all varieties line the streets on both sides: (smoked) meats, fish, sweet baked goods, spices and herbs, oils and vinegars, fruits and vegetables from near and far. There were a few stalls filled with drinks from the brewery, others with tea and coffee and occasionally a woman who would tell your future if you gave her your empty cup. Stalls with fabrics, from sturdy burlap to the softest silks, woodcarvings, pottery, glass, trinkets of all kinds. Here and there in the mix you would find groups of people packed around tables with gambling games, cards, dice and nearest to you, visible from the mayor's house, a large square table with a maze build into it. Behind it stood a man with a jacket similar to that of the gnome you saw inside, though with less golden embroideries. He held a glass box with a dozen of tiny elephants, no larger than a common vole, letting four men pick one and place it in a corner of the box, before putting a single nut in the middle and then pushing a button, making panels drop to set the elephants free in the maze, hunting for their reward.
Those with good ears might be able to pick up the sounds of the nearest band playing on the next square over the laughter, shouts and general chitchat nearby. If you know the festival you'll remember the various spots where bards sing, play their instruments and tell stories from all over the world.

Nothing to see here...

As you disperse into the crowd, each headed off a different direction, you find the mood one befitting the event. Everyone seems festive and in generally good spirits.

Mönkhbat, you find a small stand staffed by a pair of goliaths. They greet you heartily. It's odd for you to find those that make you feel small, but this pair accomplishes that. On their little table, you see several gourds that they are pouring mugs out of. Five copper later, you are the proud owner of a new goat-horn drinking vessel full of what they call Fires of the Mists, a brew they cultivate in the mountains. You are familiar with the drink, though you don't know the two vendors. It is thick and heady, with a gentle burn at the back of your throat.

Nàdair, you bounce off into the crowd, heading right for the mini elephants. The race is entertaining and everyone seems to enjoy it, even those that lose. The sight of the tiny trumpeting creatures is enough to give anyone a smile. You hear familiar tales, and new. Silks of all colors seem to flow across some of the stalls, truly giving anyone what they are looking for.

Maighan, you follow along behind, keeping enough back that it's not obvious you two are traveling together in any fashion. Like Nàdair, you find silks of all colors.

Alata, you head off with the group, but rapidly turn your path away to head to some of the stages where performances are taking place. You see some people that may be considered odd, but then you realize they are part of the performance, playing villans in the little stage show.

Roddric, you continue along after Nàdair and Maighan, unsure wherelese to actually head.


Time Elapsed Since Festival Start - 1 hour

Current Party Locations
Group 1: Nàdair, Maighan, Roddric - Among the cloth vendors.
Group 2: Mönkhbat - Drinking and wandering.
Group 3: Alata - Near a side stage with a small play happening.

Group visibility
At this point, all three groups are out of touch with one another. It would take ~5-10 minutes of an hour block for one group to find any other group.

One of the goliaths chuckles at Mönkhbat. Looks like we found ourselves another one Hophead! You reckon he brought enough coin to drink us out of business? They both laugh loudly for exactly 4,6 seconds, then stare at Mönkhbat, not Hophead holding out his hand.
Please let me know how much Mönkhbat drinks this hour, there are about 8 horns worth of Fires of the Mist in the gourd, he has to pay 25 copper for it.

Maighan bumps into the man in front of her, her hand slipping into his pouch, but not without softly tugging on it. The man starts to reach for the pouch so she quickly pulls back her hand.
Alata stands, watches, scoffs and taps his toes to the upbeat rhythm of the next song, smiling momentarily at the brilliancy of the lyrics. After a while the play ends, but almost instantly a new group fills the stage, causing a few teenage girls near you to squeal loudly upon seeing a handsome and pretty well-known actor take his position.

Nàdair and Roddric spend the hour comparing different fabrics to Nàdair's eyes, pausing for a few minutes at a stall that only sells pockets.


Time Elapsed Since Festival Start - 2 hours

Current Party Locations
Group 1: Nàdair, Maighan, Roddric - Among the cloth vendors. Maighan apart from Nàdair and Roddric
Group 2: Mönkhbat - Drinking and wandering.
Group 3: Alata - Near a side stage with a small play happening.

Group visibility
At this point, all three groups are out of touch with one another. It would take ~5-10 minutes of an hour block for one group to find any other group.

Maighan: The man Maighan stops and talks to frowns, glancing inside his pouch quickly before looking at the fellow she points out. Well you Arschloch! The man moves quickly, jumping on the back of the "thief" while spewing profanities and accusations. Immediately people try to interfere and punches get thrown around. Within seconds a group of 7 men are in a fistfight.

Mönkhbat: Hophead looks at the other goliath, eyebrows raised. Say Meadface, do I look like a touwslager to you? Meadface snorts. Well no Hophead, I don't think you do... You look more like an expert in the art of alcohol creation. Hophead nods, turning back to Mönkhbat. We don't sell rope, try over there. He waves in the general direction of the stalls further away from the large podium, just as he does the crowd he waves towards moves apart as some kind of fight breaks out.

Mönkhbat: Suddenly the jovial smiles on the goliaths' faces disappear. Hophead leans forward, placing his fists on the wooden boards of the stall, causing them to creak heavily under his weight. We DON'T sell rope, little one. I do not wish to fight you on this fine day but if you taunt us again I will put that gourd in your mouth. How's that for advertisement? Hophead's breath hits Mönkhbat in the face; a mix of their own brew and old garlic. Meadface chuckles darkly, standing up a bit taller and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Maighan: The woman behind the stall looks Maighan up and down before frowning. And what do you suppose I'd do with it lass? Give it to the guard at the gate if you can't be bothered giving it to the rightful owner yourself. Now, was there any rope you wanted to buy perhaps?

Mönkhbat: Hophead sighs, standing back up and grabbing the gourd, pulling it towards himself. A split second passes in tense silence before Hophead swings the gourd towards Mönkhbat's head with a mighty roar.

Anticipating the goliath to jump him Mönkhbat sees right through Hophead's attempt to hit him and simply leans back a bit, causing the gourd to miss his face by a few inches.

Combat! Mönkhbat is up!

Maighan: The woman raises an eyebrow at you. Do you have eyes in that pretty little head of yours? We have these right here... She moves her hand over the stall, which displays a wide variety of hemp and spider silk rope. But.... Maybe I have something special for you right here.... She reaches down under the stall, pulling out a black box, placing it on the corner of the stall and opening the lid. Inside are only a few ropes, same thickness but different lengths, in black and red. Touch it, they feel quite soft, but trust me, they're almost impossible to get out off. Great for when you merely want to constrain someone, not actually hurt them...

Mönkhbat: Mönkhbat grips the edge of the table between him and the goliaths, flipping it on its side, causing gourds to fly through the air and Hophead and Meadface to be drenched in their own brew. Meadface wipes the booze from his face with his hand, grunting. That's it, you stinking piece of shit! All around people hurry away from this fight, or stop and stare, a few even cheering for Mönkhbat's table flip.
Hophead growls, leaping over the turned table, ending up right in front of Mönkhbat and swinging a mean left hook at him, landing it on his right ear.

19 vs. AC for 3 damage, before any reductions.

Combat! Mönkhbat is up!


Maighan: The day is young, plenty of people yet to come. Also I need to know who I have in front of me before I share my specialty... I'm sure a fine lady like yourself has plenty of ways to make good use of these. It's 8 gold for the 3 meter and 12 gold for 8 meter. You won't be able to find this anywhere else milady, great as a gift for that special friend too!

Mönkhbat: Meadface blinks twice after getting punched square in the face,then presses a finger against the side of his nose, blowing some blood out of the other nostril. Meanwhile Hophead chuckles, raising his left fist again, this time aiming for Mönkhbat's kidney. I'll leave the nose for you, brother!
Meadface replies with a big grin, taking a swing at Mönkhbat's nose, however as he takes a step forward he slips on the blood he just snorted on the floor making his swing go way wide. He does a half pirouette ending up with his back towards Mönkhbat.

Hophead had more luck, his fist hitting Mönkhbat's side.
17 vs. AC for 3 damage, before any reductions.

Combat! Mönkhbat is up!

Meadface grunts hard when Mönkhbat picks him up and swings him over his shoulder into Hophead, who tries to catch his brother. Hop's arms fling around, fingers finding grip on Meadface's clothes making his face stop moving mere inches above the ground. They wobble, making weird noises simultaneously, in stereo. Hophead looks up at Mönkhbat awkwardly, not able to put his brother down safely.

Combat! Mönkhbat is up!

Meadface wobbles, shaking his head, not quite recovered from the blow, or maybe it's the alcohol at this hour. When Mönkhbat shows the gold coin the brothers share a look before breaking out into a thunderous laughter, reminding Mönkhbat of boulders rolling down a mountainside and causing a gnome mother to jump and hurriedly drag her children along the edge of the clearing around the stall. The people that gathered for the fight start to wander off again and soon the turned over stall and spilled booze is all that indicates there was a fight in the first place. The brothers clap Mönkhbat on his shoulder, Meadface finding a place to sit and Hophead pulling the stall back upright before moving around it and lifting up a tarp, draped over several crates filled with gourds full of Fires of the Mists. You didn't actually think that was all we brought for today, did you? Tell you what, you give me that gold, I'll give you 3 of these gourds and... He reaches for his chest, pulling the string lacing up the top part of his shirt out, a thick bush of chest hair springing free. This "rope" and we call is even. What do you say?

Maighan: the lady slams the lid of the box shut, looking slightly offended, but with a twinkle in her eyes. I said 12 for 8. I thought you were an honest woman, but if you try to screw me over, I think we're done here. She raises an eyebrow at Maighan, waiting for an answer expectantly.

Maighan: the woman looks at you with a slight frown, unhappy with the lack of movement in offered gold. Hmm. I see you're a tough one. However, you do not offer nearly enough to cover the costs of these fine ropes. She reopens the box. 11 gold. That really is a very fair price.

Mönkhbat: you walk away with your gourds, booze comfortably sloshing around behind your back. Nothing much more eventful happens as you move down the street. You see three lads being lead away by a few guards, bruises and cuts adorning their faces. If you look a bit beyond you can just see a glimpse of Maighan standing at a stall selling ropes, a very confused looking woman standing on the other side.

Maighan: The woman smiles, picking up one of the 8 meter ropes and handing it go Maighan as she accepts the purse, peeking inside to verify the amount of coins. Her eyes grow wide and she looks up in shock. This... I... But.... It's a pleasure doing business with you madam. She stares back down again, completely flabbergasted.

Alata, Nàdair and Roddric: The actor waves and winks at the girls, smiling his most famous smile, before turning his back to the audience for a second. When everyone is quiet he turns back around, a serious look on his face. His voice flows gracefully, loud enough for the entire audience to hear and filled with warmth. The story he tells is a well-known one, he tells if every year, yet when he's done several people have pulled out their handkerchiefs, dabbing at their eyes.
What the real name of the man in the clouds was and where he came from, was unknown. In the village below, nobody cared, as the man in the clouds, this man was known. The man in the clouds never came down. Alone, but perfectly happy he was. And that had a very special reason, because on the wall of his house hung a beautiful painting. The man in the clouds could watch it for hours, in beauty his days flowed by. A higher happiness he couldn't achieve, then to watch and watch the beautiful painting. And often you could see people walking up, to the man in the clouds with his beautiful painting. The door of this house was always open to everyone. "Come on in," he always said hospitably. And everyone gave him, because that's what you're supposed to do, some bread, or some wine, as a kind of entrance fee. Over the years that had become the standard.

You brought the man in the clouds something and sat next to him in a chair. And then everything became as clear as glass, as the beautiful painting momentarily made you forget, how sad and empty life sometimes was.
It was a landscape, so stunning, so magnificently empty. It must've been like this when the world just begun. You could see how everything got a shape and a colour, in the light of an endlessly rising sun.

One day the man in the clouds was visited by a stranger that shook his hand and said: "It seems you're the owner of a canvas, that's known down below as the beautiful painting."
The man in the clouds said: "please, come in."
The stranger stepped in front of the landscape and then became completely flabbergasted.
"It's unbelievable, where did you get this? A masterpiece and look at that, with frame and signature! Sir, you're set for life! That's a huge fortune hanging on the wall."

The man in the clouds wanted to forget what the stranger had told him that day. But something had changed, only by knowing, that beauty could be expressed in money. He more and more often started to tell the visitors "Don't touch it! Don't get too close!"
Slowly he changed into a guard, a careful man with a beautiful painting. And then the fears and the dreams came. Thieves that cried "give me that piece!" And so the lock came on his front door. And less and less people visited the man in the clouds.
Sometimes the man in the clouds, for a moment, thought back on the time when the beautiful painting still gave comfort and warmth to everyone. But he wasn't allowed to think like that, those days were over. He had to protect it, if needed with his life, this he was obliged to the beauty of the landscape. He would never forgive himself if the painting was stolen. So everything he could close he closed shutter than shut.
But still his fear grew, no night passed, without him hearing the thieves. And they would surely find it because they knew it was hanging on his wall. Therefore he locked the landscape away in a closet.
But the spot where the beautiful painting had hung looked more and more empty. And eventually the man in the clouds became mad with desire and he put the landscape back up on the wall.

He watched it for hours and hours that night, the shapes, the colours, and the rising sun. But the radiance had faded, the beauty gone. Like he couldn't properly see anymore.
Then suddenly he saw everything clear as glass, there in a frame hung his fears on the wall. It was that night in the clouds that he understood and he threw the beautiful painting in the fire. The man in the clouds saw the colors on the landscape change, and the rising sun go up in flames.
Then he got up, took the lock from his door, and amazed the man in the clouds stood still. He saw a landscape, so stunning, so magnificently empty. It must've been like this when the world just begun. He saw how everything got a shape and colour. In the light of a beautifully rising sun.


Time Elapsed Since Festival Start - 3 hours

Current Party Locations
Group 1: Maighan - Among the cloth vendors.
Group 2: Mönkhbat - Drinking and wandering.
Group 3: Alata, Nàdair and Roddric - Near a side stage with a small play happening.

Group visibility
At this point, all three groups are out of touch with one another. It would take ~5-10 minutes of an hour block for one group to find any other group.