Nashkel

Nashkel is truly a frontier town. It belongs to the nation of Amn, further southward and across the Cloud Peaks, but given the remote location it's largely enjoyed a sense of independence. On the other hand, its proximity to the city of Baldur's Gate makes the mining town the region's best source of iron. It's a small place that seems to have a foot in both Baldur's Gate's roundabouts and it's own nation of Amn.

In these days of the Iron Crisis, and rising tensions between the two governing powers, that dual nature puts the town under considerable stress.

And so the heroes find themselves met at the town's entrance (a small bridge crossing over a stream) by an armed contingent of Amnish soldiers...

There's only one inn in Nashkel, aptly named the Nashkel Inn. It's actually fairly busy for such a remote town. The proprietor seems to be mostly fussing over one table in particular where a handful of people sit, one of them a young man of apparent nobility.

The proprietor gives the party a glance as they enter, and nods toward an open table as if to say "Have a seat, I'll be with you in a moment."

It takes him perhaps a quarter of an hour to make his way over to the companions. Pulling a rag from his apron, he wipes beads of sweat from his face and sighs, then puts on a welcoming smile. "Good evening to you, friends! Can I interest you in some fresh venison for dinner? Perhaps a round of drinks to go with it? I-" A call from the young noble has him bowing to the party and scuttling off once more, without so much as taking their orders.

The kitchen is easy to find. Behind a pair of short, swinging double doors is a simple kitchen and a very occupied cook, who glances up at Stella. "No special orders tonight! I'm far too busy. Unless..." She looks up and down at Stella's attire. "Unless you're one of those very helpful adventurers they say is in town. I know all too well your kind is always ready to lend a hand to folks in need."

"Well?" She points to the counter, where there are half a dozen plated entrees lined up, waiting to be taken to patrons in the common room. "The first four are for the dwarves in the corner table, the other two or for the big tattooed guy by the fireplace. I think he intends to eat both of them himself, but that's not my business..."

The cook watches with curiosity as Stella works her spell, and then claps her hands for joy when the plates seem to rise on their own and float towards the fireplace, held aloft by the invisible Warrior Woman.

Quote:

"I have experience cooking. What do you need?"

The cook smiles in appreciation and relief. "Forgive my harsh words earlier! It's all getting to me lately. These days, these times... Anyway, can you bake a large cake? I've all the ingredients." She nudges a cupboard open with her hip, revealing ingredients of all sorts.

Sheemish, always intrigued by new things, evaluates the room. The dwarves would be fun to talk to but their company is one he’s already familiar with. But the lone tattooed man by himself, now that would be a new story

Sheemish makes his way to a table next to the man, takes a seat and tries to give a respectful nod if the man looks to him. He also squints to see if he recognized any of the tattooes.

The cook comes over to check Stella's work with the cake. "It smells delicious! You must teach me your recipe before you leave Nashkel. Now it just needs some frosting. Apparently they said to put animal shapes on it; for some kid's birthday or something."

OOC:

Awesome culinary check! You can ride that roll and decorate the cake awesomely, I just wanted to give you a chance to respond, describe it, whatever you feel like.

With the Unseen Servant's help clearing and cleaning tables in the common room (a job that Dieter was supposed to be doing), the cook and proprietor seem to be significantly less stressed!

The tattooed man is big. Easily closer to 7 feet tall than 6, and well-muscled. His shaved head sports his most obvious tattoo, a circular affair that covers about a third of his face and most of his skull. An enormous sword rests across his lap as he digs into his meal - a hefty slice of venison. Oddly, across the table from him, placed before an empty seat, is a second meal: a large salad topped with various nuts and apple slices. It appears untouched.

Try as he might, Sheemish doesn't recognize the big tattoo. It doesn't seem magical, but perhaps... tribal?

Then Sheemish notices that the man is muttering under his breath between bites, but can't quite make out what he's saying.

The cook claps her hands in delight as she admires the finished cake. "It's beautiful! Almost a shame to see it eaten. I suppose we should deliver to the table before anything unlucky happens to it!" She points out over the double-doors to the tattooed man by the fire. "I don't see a child with him, but... well, he's the one who ordered it."

Sheemish strains to listen to make out the muttering, even trying to enlist stitch to help, but the poor friend wasn’t responding, probably still recovering from its attack on the spiders the other night.

With the bustle and commotion in the common room, Sheemish has a hard time hearing anything the man says. "...must find... wipe the floor... for the eyes..."

The large, tattooed man's head is about level with Stella's, even while he's sitting. At the moment, he's happily admiring the cake and its animal constellations.

Then he looks back at Stella and speaks with a heavy accent she's never heard before: "A song? Is there no... birthday song in this place? I thought there would be..." The man looks around expectantly, then settles on Stella once more and breaks out into a huge grin. He's missing at least one tooth. "You sing us a birthday song!"

Sheemish feels some distant emotion, as if in a former life he used to be a server and forever came to despise, loath, and forever be repulsed to singing birthday songs to patrons. But he cocks his head to the side and curiously waits to see Stella’s reaction.

With the help of the companions, tonight the common room has known laughter, song, and plenty of delicious food.

Aldous and his guards are about to disappear down a connecting hallway when Stella and Sheemish finish their song, to the applause of all present. All except for the four dwarves by the door...

Clapping and cheers cover the sound of chairs tumbling to the floor as the four dwarves leap to their feet, drawing weapons spreading out into the common room and nearing various members of the party. They might have gone unnoticed until blood was spilt, but one companion reluctant to join the festivities spots their scheme.

Calliope is able to warn the party before the dwarves have a chance to strike!

Round 1 Player Phase!

Sheemish leaps from his chair, a metallic whip wrapping around its back as he does so. With a grunt he swings and releases, the chair hurtling point blank at the nearest dwarf.

beserker 2 must make a dex 14 save or take 9 damage.

Round 1 Summary

As the fight breaks out, Shar-Teel and the other guards draw their weapons and form a protective ring around Aldous. The young noble draws a dagger and tries to move forward to help, but they hold him back.

The first berserker flails his axe wildly at Dieter, but when Aiwë's tossed mallet hits him between the eyes, the dwarf ends up cleaving a bar stool instead, leaving himself open for Dieter to retaliate. Though the young fighter's stance is perfect, his foot slips slightly on some spilt ale and his strike glances off the dwarf's armor.

Meanwhile, the other berserker charges at Runeson, ducking under the paladin's swing and catching him in the gut with with a wickedly horned helmet (Runeson takes 16 damage). As Runeson stumbles back, Sheemish's hurled chair comes whirling forward to smash itself right in the dwarf's face (B2 fails his save and takes 9 damage). Despite his grievous wound, Runeson steadies himself, determined to stay on his feet and keep fighting.

Still standing near the door, the dwarven priest lifts a holy symbol - a jeweled dagger - and begins chanting a spell. The other of Aiwë's mallets flies through the air and hits him in the head, but he grunts through the pain and finishes his spell. "GROVEL!"

The priest casts Command as a 3rd-level spell, targeting Stella, Runeson, and Sheemish.A wave of magical compulsion washes over some of the companions. Runeson and Sheemish find their will overcome and are forced to obey, as though a giant, unseen hand is forcing them to their knees.The same nefarious influence rolls over Stella, but her mind easily snaps back into place as she focuses. Light brighter than the fireplace flashes across the common room once, then twice! The dwarf priest falls dead, two shining arrows in his heart.

Unnoticed by most, the dwarven scoundrel prowls over to Calliope. He thinks he's hidden his approach well, until he finds himself illuminated by the eladrin's fey magic. With a snarl he slips away from the magical lights and throws himself at her, shortsword slicing a bloody line across her forearm (Calliope takes 7 damage).

Just then, an arrow comes whistling in to slam into the scoundrel's shoulder (Scoundrel takes 15 damage). Over by the kitchen door, Imoen stands with her bow, her determined expression somewhat lessened by the apple clutched between her teeth.

As Runeson and Sheemish feel the dead priest's magic pulling them low, leaving Stella exposed to their opponent, a powerful voice rings out from behind them. "Ho there, evil! Leave the girl alone, or butts will be liberally kicked in good measure!" The voice is followed by a flying, beautifully decorated birthday cake that hits the dwarf berserker square in the face, enveloping his head in delicious, blinding frosting (no damage, but B2 is blinded for the next round). Then the tattooed warrior follows up his improvised projectile with a swing of his sword - held firmly by the still-sheathed blade - and slams the weapon's hilt into the berserker's cake-covered nose (B2 takes 13 damage).

Another voice, considerably less deep or powerful, calls out from the hallway. "No! Leave them alone!" Aldous whips out a wooden wand and, aiming over Shar-Teel's shoulder, unleashes three magical bolts that zoom around patrons and under tables to sting the berserker by Dieter and Aiwë (B1 takes 9 damage from Magic Missile).

Wounded, and with one of their number dead, the dwarves redouble their efforts!

Round 2 Player Phase!!

Once again, with his controller unable to move, stitch zips out to offer her help. Little thought she maybe, her effect is still felt. She lets out a high shrill whir and an invisible pulse is sent in the nearest dwarfs direction.

Beserker 2 takes 5 thunder damage

.

Round 2 Summary!!

In moments the fight is under control. Dieter and Aiwe combine magic and muscle to bring down their assailant, while Stella's light arrows obliterate the one near her. Calliope neatly escapes the scoundrel, and retaliates with searing ribbons of fire. Runeson and Sheemish shake off the enchantment spell and rise to find the battle over.Shar-Teel and the guards immediately hustle Aldous off to his room.

The tattooed man bleeds from a minor cut across his arm, but happily sits down to finish his meal.

The proprietor rises from behind the bar, face in his hands as he regards terrified patrons and smashed furniture.

Shar-Teel returns shortly, fuming, and stands with arms crossed over her chest. Her gaze is fixed on Dieter.

Aiwe is just reaching for a dwarf with charred leather armor - the scoundrel - and he twitches, trying to slash at her with his shortsword. There's no power behind the strike though, and she quickly overpowers him.

Sheemish reorients himself - that was annoying but regains his composure pretty quickly. He hears Aiwes command but first wants to thank one of their helpers.

"Many thanks friend" he says offering a hand to the tattooed man, "we greatly appreciated the help, but do apologize about the cake" he eyes the mess on the floor and gives an apologetic look to Stella.

"I hope we did not spoil the birthday?" Sheemish leaves the question open ended, hoping to find out more from the strange man.

Shar-Teel pockets the coins one by one, but doesn't touch the drink. "I'm here. You better not be wasting my time, or I might be tempted to collect on that bounty myself."

When Runeson approaches, she gives him a stare. "Ah yes, the paladin." She leans back against the bar. "The Iron Crisis has been bad for business. But no, I'm not here for that. I'm not doing anything about that unless someone offers to pay me for it."

She gives a nod back in the direction the guards took Aldous. "i've got my hands full with him. Spoiled noble's brat, wouldn't know privilege if it bit him in the face."

The tattooed man gives a hearty laugh at Sheemish's words and pats the huge sword laying across his lap. "Bahaha! We are always happy to help good people in need! And to give evil a good kick in the backside." He looks down at the splattered cake remains. "Ah, the casualties of battle. Still, I do not think Boo will mind."

He gives a little whistle, and a small mammal rustles out of the salad plate on the table, its enormous cheeks puffed out. It gives a little squeak and scurry-waddles over to the big man, deftly climbing into his open hand. It looks much like a mouse, but bigger and with only a tiny little nub of a tail.

The tattooed man leans down from his seat to scoop a fingerfull of frosting off the floor and offers it to the strange creature. It sniffs eagerly at the offered treat, then snatches some of the nuts off the cake and stuffs them into its cheeks - no doubt where it has more food safely stored away.

"Yes!" The big man cries. "Boo's birthday is a good one! Beautiful song, tasty cake, and a fight against evil. What more could a pair of heroes ask for?"
"Ah, I thank you, young witch!" He looks around at the other party members as they perform various tasks. "Which one is your warrior? Every witch must have a protector, no?"

As Stella tends to the man's wound, she notices the old scar of a nasty head wound opposite his largest tattoo. Something like that may have done lasting damage to the man, and not just the physical kind.

Bardolan frowns as he reads the note. "Such confidence in their 'evil'... Well. I am shamed this happened on my watch. I'll get a couple of soldiers to help clean up." He nods to one of the men with him, who jogs off into the night.

Officer Bardolan sighs. "When I saw the bodies, I was worried there'd been a repeat of last week's murders. I'm relieved to see that's not the case, though I offer my sincerest apology to you for having let these assassins into town. I'll be sure to warn my soldiers to be on the alert for any other bounty hunters that come this way."

The dagger is a dull-gold color, perhaps copper or one of its alloys. The blade looks ordinary enough, but what draws the eye is the hilt, which is a stylized scorpion. The pincers reach out just below the blade to form guards, and the stinger protrudes from the pommel to curl around where one's pinky finger would sit. Dieter can't tell if it's magical or not, but at the very least it's not iron; it might serve well as a backup weapon should his sword ever break.

Sheemish approaches and leans menacingly over the smug little dwarf.

You speak casually of dragons, dwarf. You really should not"

A section of Sheemish's armor retracts on its own and reveals a distinct mark along his collar bone and shoulder. A black jagged line of dragon scale surrounded by a thin layer of yellow of what looks like poisoned skin.

"Speak now dwarf, as you may not be able to after this conversation" Sheemish says with a hiss. He then adds in a voice that was no longer a request and whispers in the dwarfs ear in draconic "Now!"

Stella's magical investigation of the spider bag reveals little more than the party already knew.

- The contents are kept at a consistent temperature. Stella learns the command words to specify what that temperature should be: cool, moderate, and warm. Oddly enough, these commands are in Druidic.

- The contents are also protected from minor harm, such as being shaken around or squashed.

- Lastly, Stella learns that there is a spell of preservation on the bag. With more Druidic commands, the bag can be instructed to slow down the aging of the contents.

Putting these clues together, Stella is confident that the bag was used as a sort of timed trap. The bag kept the spider eggs in a kind of stasis, to hatch at a specific point in time.

"You will answer my companions as you would me" Sheemish now says in dwarvish.

"Where were you to deposit your kill and how were you to receive your reward?" He presses in a dark tone while maintaining eye contact.

"Is there any other useful information you are hiding from me? I will NOT be tested Dwarf" Sheemish says with a growl.

With the evening's excitement played out, the companions retire to the Nashkel Inn for a good night's rest. In the morning, the party meets in the common room (which looks a fair bit better than it did last night) for breakfast. There's no sign of the young noble from the night before, but Minsc is pacing up and down the floorboards, huge sword on his back and miniature giant space hamster on his shoulder.

The party sets off for Nashkel's iron mine and before long arrives at the camp set up just outside the mine. Gathered around the mine entrance is a crowd of people, mine workers by the look of them. They seem to be having an argument.

"Why should we go back in there?"

"They got Jof! I heard them devils laughing and snickering while he screamed..."

"There's no way I'm going down there again."

We're not paid well enough for this!"

"The ore's all poisoned anyhow!"

A man stands in front of them up on a makeshift wooden platform. He raises his hands high, trying to quiet them down. "Jof probably just got drunk on the job. You all know how he is. He'll turn up. But what about the rest of you? Do you all want to eat? Do you want to feed your families? This is your job!"

The soldiers give each other a glance, and then nod. One of them speaks up: "Saw firsthand what your party did to those assassins last night, hope you do the same to whatever's harming people down there. May Helm watch over you until you return!"

The party enters the mine, anxious mutterings from the crowd of workers fading away just like the morning's light.

[color="Purple"] Sheemish remains silent throughout most of the argument, shifting uncomfortably in his armor, eyes down, his own fists clenched. As all sides calm down Sheemish breathes out a sigh, unclenches his fists and adjusts the shoulder straps of his armor.

He speaks out loud but to himself or others it’s hard to tell.

"Alone . . Death . . Neither are funny, and neither should be together. he looks up at dieter "If you have true friends you won’t die alone. An old hero taught me that. He was strong, powerful, and massive. But He realized the best way to protect others was none of those things, but rather to be their friend., /color]"

The party leaves the mine behind and returns to Nashkel. Checking in at the Nashkel Inn, Stella learns that her friend Minsc (and his hamster) left town yesterday, grim-faced and armed for battle.

Aldous Silverhand and his guards are still taking rooms at the inn. Apparently the guard replacements from Beregost haven't arrived yet, and the current ones have no wish to travel further north. Except for Shar-Teel; the woman seems to have collected her pay and departed.

There is one notable new patron in the commonroom, a human man with a finely-styled beard and ornate red robes. A gold stud on his nose connects to a chain that runs along his cheek to attach to a similar stud in his ear. He speaks loudly with a thick, foreign accent that the party has never heard before, and makes no effort to hide the fact that he's a powerful mage and due everyone's respect - and obedience.

"(Time to converse with the locals...) Attention, partakers of this swill you call drink. If it is more you crave, I offer a JOB and PAYMENT. (Yes, pay attention, you simians.) GOLD! For any who will join me in this task. (For any who survive, at any rate. Hehehe...) If my words have sparked your curiosity, come and present yourselves to me! (Though they must stay at arm's length, the stinking baboons.)"

The blacksmith is more at ease now that they are finally out away from the mine and that his equipment repaired. Leaning back in his bat chair, he plays Stitch in a fun reverse game of fetch where he tosses her across the room as a ball before she sprouts her wings and zips back.

Sheemish blatantly ignores the wizard. Pompous arrogance at its worst.

Looking to Stella and Aiwe "I’d much rather go help rescue someone than be paid to hunt and kill someone." He catches stitch and tosses her again with a calm smile. "especially if the employer is a pompous moop not capable of doing the job themself. he catches Stitch again with an upraised hand.

Youre con." Sheemish says with a very realistic huff/sigh and folds his arms. "But I for one am not too happy with the last snot nosed friend we picked up." where was that creepy little creature any way? And with a nod to stella "I also think our actual friends could use some more reassurance, as this adventure may be more than some of us may have signed up for."

Sheemish takes a seat next to Stella and hands her Stitch to toss. "Try it," he says with a wink "it’s therapeutic . . . Especially when accepting jobs from arrogant self righteous tiny rich wizards that need to get something looked at."

"It doesn’t always need to be loud, you know that right?" Sheemish says from his leaned back chair. "But if we must" and he stands up his grin dropping as quickly as his chair to the floor.

"What if dealing with this imbecile is not what Stella or I signed up for? Who ever made that our groups decision?! Who decided to go deeper and darker into a nightmare cave regardless of who it effected? Who decided to force other team members to fight when it’s the last thing they wanted to do?" he shouts jerking his towards Stella "Did someone even ask her? Would you even listen if she disagreed? Or would you just beat a drum and tell her to cope?! We are not going to be the same by the end of this mission!" Sheemish clenches his left hand into a tight fist and his eyes turn a slightly different color. His voice lowers to a tight whisper"It might be wise choosing what we are to become-"

And with that Sheemish turns into a little green lizard.