Chapter 1: Making Introductions

Alan, you make your way into the rented room, finding the iron lock on the door to be in excellent condition for what is effectively a re-purposed horse stall. Once inside, you notice that Baerum has taken the time and energy to do some good remodeling of the space. New wood floors stretch from wall to wall, a small brazier sits in one corner opposite the door with a small chest of coal next to it, and a single bed is pushed into the other corner opposite the door. Across from the foot of the bed is a small desk with a wooden stool. There is room enough for three or four people, depending on how comfortable they are with one another, to stretch out on the floor in the in-between spaces of the furniture. The walls are also reinforced and have no obvious holes in them, same with the ceiling. It would seem even a poor quality room here is something he's taken care to ensure provides its inhabitant with a restful night.

Sanctity looks you up and down briefly before letting out a pleasant sigh of amused exasperation. I imagine we're here the same reason you are. Town is offering coin to people willing to do things to help them out. By Helm's glistening gauntlet, I am surprised to see so many people turn out in such a backwater though. May not be enough coin to spread around to all these folk. she says, furrowing her brow slightly as she starts running some mental figures.

Radiza scans the room, but it is difficult to spot much given the not-great lighting inside and the number of patrons moving about now.

The gnome nods his head at you and starts in on a lively jig. He's much more comfortable with this song and the music is pretty well done. He starts to sing, but is so awestruck by your singing and dancing that he shuts his mouth and just adapts the song to your dervish of tavern antics. It passes the next several minutes pleasantly, right up until the doors slam open and a trio of rain-drenched individuals come wandering in, cursing at the storm. Leading the way is a dwarven woman wearing rain-slicked leathers and her strawberry-blonde hair wrapped up in a thick braided bun at the top of her head. She looks about the room and waves to the barkeep before sauntering over to the gnome playing music by the fire. In her wake, a bubbly looking gnome with purple-tinged hair wanders in, though the rain has made her look something like a cat that was just dumped into a bucket of water. It hasn't seemed to dampen the personality in her eyes though. Finally, a sun-weathered man in hunting attire brings up the rear, though his clothes look far less worse-for-wear than the others.

Based on what you know, you assume this is Wilfra Glimmerbeard, Daphisany Wobblerock, and Stephen Macasure: Conyberry's Mercantile Council.

Well met everyone! Gerbo, would ya knock off with that incessant pluckin'. The thunder alone outside is enough to drive me to a headache, more'n any hammer on anvil would do. the dwarf says as she pulls a chair away from a nearby table and drops into it in front of the fire.

Baerum, be a lad and bring me one o' the Snow Stout's would you? she continues on before taking in the assembled audience.

Now if this ain't a sight for sore eyes. Seems a fair number of you have heard of our need for extra hands around town. Appreciate you all makin' your way here and glad it looks like you made it in before the storm. Give us a moment to get the water off our backs and we'll get this rollin', ok?

Daphisany, the gnomish woman, giggles a bit as Milaki bumps into her.

I admit, it is good to see revelry. Reminds me of where I grew up... she says, words trailing off into a memory.

Wilfra takes a deep chug of her beer when Baerum delivers it to her. Wiping her hand across the back of her mouth she sighs heavily. Ok, let's get down to the core iron of the issue, shall we? We've been trying for the last two years or so to really rebuild this place into a worthwhile place for traders to stop as they cut across from Triboar. I think we've done a pretty bang-up job so far, but we're getting to the end of our abilities as it relates to some items. No doubt you've all heard rumors of trade caravans being set upon by highwaymen and orcs marauding out from the hills. The sad truth is, that's still very much a true thing. Beyond that, we've had no shortage of issues with livestock thievery, but no real leads on what's causing it. she says in a bit of a rush. The man in hunting leathers leans forward as she finishes speaking.

Aye, and that's just on the general running of the town. M'daughter and I were headed out toward Neverwinter Wood a tenday ago to check traps and found that someone had poisoned most of the baits that we'd set. We've cleaned that up, so no one gets hurt further, but someone is actively working to keep us from taking game.

Wilfra nods to Stephen. We're a bit at your mercy, all of you have come to help. We've got coin and favors both, depending on what help you're able to provide. I know it isn't the same as a glamourous call from a king to rid the realm of a tyrant lich or something, but we are glad you're here to help. Any questions you have or anything else we can tell you?

Anyone that has spared any moments to look over the other adventuring parties sees the pair of dwarves looking somewhat disinterested, though the longer-haired one seems a bit more pale than he had earlier. The elf and her pair of humans narrowed their eyes at the mention of the trade caravans. Finally, the tiefling in the cardplaying group sat sharply up at the mention of the orcs.

From here, it's a pretty open opportunity for you all to interact with either the Council or with the other adventuring groups to determine if you want to coordinate or just try to stay out of one another's way.

The dwarven woman quirks a smile at the tabaxi. Welcome to Conyberry. It has been several years since I've had the pleasure of meeting a tabaxi. There was an apprentice I helped train ages ago. Rare Thunder of the Dry Creek Clan, I believe he called himself. Was a fine hand at dagger-craft. You ask a well-pointed question. Wilfra says, eyes dancing. You notice that several of the townsfolk that had been paying attention to their conversations and cups have now turned to take in the rarity in front of them. It's a common mix of awe, shock, and confusion. There is fleeting looks of distaste, also not uncommon. Wilfra looks around the room briefly.

There are many of you here. Far be it from me to try to assign you all tasks not knowing your strengths. A bounty for confirmed orc kills isn't out of the question. Call it ten gold a set? Fifteen extra if you get one of their finger-wagglers. If you want to guard caravans, we will certainly help you negotiate a wage with the specific caravans that come through, assuming that we will foot some of that bill ourselves.

Stephen coughs lightly. Basically we're looking for help however you think you can best provide it. We certainly can't speak for everyone in town, but there are a few big things that we feel the town can easily compensate you for. For example, Alfonse Kalazorn, a rancher that lives a few miles down the road towards Triboar. He used to provide some unique butter creations to travelers through here. But ever since that damn dragon hit the area, he's been more and more reclusive. It would be a great feather in our cap if you could convince him to work with us instead of at odds with us. he says, drawing nods from a few of the townsfolk.