Game Posts

I've been preceded by my reputation. I don't know if it's my tattoos, or if my past exploits created a lot of stories that would pass from one criminal to another, but I found that where my old criminal contacts and I have lost touch there were plenty of strangers who recognized me or my dice. As we found ourselves in various towns I'd, out of old habits, find myself in the tavern and I'd somehow always have someone wanting me to reminisce. I may have tried to forget my past but it definitely would not forget about me. Luckily as I would talk about the "good old days" my temporary friends at the taverns would fill me about the here and now.

Criminals always seem to be focused on the here and now, so there was not much information to be had about the past, and now the empire was solidly in the past. It's bones had been picked over by looters and scavengers so my criminal brethren had little concern for it so I little information to share with Pageflap and Iman.

Early on I learned that though he may not be known by name or reputation Aegar still holds himself like a soldier committed to to order, and because of that many of my "friends" were wary to be in the same room as him, much less talk to him, at least until I would fervently vouch for him and they had plenty to drink.

The real treasure trove of information came from our wayward Acolyte and the Thespian extraordinaire.

Raishe, I learned, was quite vilified publicly to go against his religion in such a violent was was inexcusable. To the public this was the clergy's stance. However, some of the more... human... clerics recognized the Bishop for what he was. As these clerics would find their way to alehouses, brothels, gambling dens, to "proselytize" and the like they would let slip that "they would have done the same without any misgivings" this seemed, to my fellow criminals to be a lot of grandstanding and ego stroking, To me it showed that the man had support for his actions and may have a path back to the fold he had devoted his life to. I see this as good. Men of faith need hope. Kit's is the most amusing to me. I expected his transition out of the top of society to be challenging, but he seems to take to the grit just as well as the glamour he was used to. At first it seemed like he missed fine wine and feasts, he also seemed reluctant to enter some of the taverns I would gravitate toward. Now he seems much less preoccupied with what people might think. At first there were some murmurs about people looking for him. Word now is that with his uncle being held accountable and him leaving the spotlight the crown seems to be indifferent his existence. His skills for the stage seem to transition quite well to making sure he stays hidden and disguised. His flair for drama seems to break the melancholy of our current existence. He came to me in a time of need and so I took him in. He's decided to join us, since the stage seems closed to him for now, and it seems like he's taken to our quest quite well, though he sometimes forgets where we are or who were talking to, and the consequences for that has been...interesting at times, but we can usually walk away unscathed, sometimes laughing sometimes hastily, but rarely bruised or battered. I do still feel kind of responsible for him especially when we deal with the seedier side of society. Maybe in our time together I'll be able to see him perform the play that got him into hot water in the first place. I did enjoy his performances in my youth.

Not even three days remaining until he finally made it within the walls of Katagia when Pageflap was beset by a boisterous band of bandits. The preceding weeks were hardly any trouble, and he was beginning to think that the threat of being mugged on the road may have been slightly exaggerated. Turns out the middle of nowhere wasn't a good place for muggers to find victims!

"I think I saw that bird thing go this way!" Another thing to note was that apparently Kenku were not as well known around these parts as back home. They were known, a couple of the bandits mentioned seeing something like himself a couple of times before, but they seemed to be rarer around here. That or the bandits were not worldly enough to know the name 'Kenku.'

At the moment, he was high upon a tree, using his talons to perch on a sufficiently foliaged and sturdy enough branch. The hope that the bandits would give up and leave before nightfall was waning as the hunt seemed to only spur them further. He could probably keep going until they did give up, but he was getting worried that the man of faith hiding in the tree with him would not.

Meeting on the same boat, the cleric Raishe was initially wary of him, knowing the reputation Kenku were known to have. A week at sea was enough to put some of that worry to rest, but not so much that they wouldn't have parted ways once they reached port. That they were headed the same way was a coincidence, and though the cleric kept him at arms length throughout the journey the presence of bandits warmed them up to each other pretty quickly.

Pageflap felt something click in his head.

Waving the cleric over, they slowly began climbing down the tree. Stealthily sneaking among the bushes, Pageflap neared one of the bandits. The cleric didn't seem to have ever done something like this before, and made a bit of noise. As the bandit started to rise at the noise, Pageflap spoke aloud, "I think I saw that bird thing go this way!" The bandit then got up and headed towards Pageflap's direction. As he was about to reach the tree he was hiding behind, Raishe clubbed him in the back of the head with his mace.

"Hey! Are you alright? What's with all the noise!?" yelled one of the bandits.

"Where the hell is that bloody bird!?" Pageflap yelled back. The bandits went back to their searching, unaware that they were being picked off one by one.

When all was said and done, Pageflap flipped open his book and turned to find an empty page. That was clearly a creative plan! He should write it down in case he needs it again! Though there was the possibility that it would not work again. Perhaps he should look for more help once he gets to Katagia? There's bound to be someone there wanting to go to the Arkasian ruins....

I find myself in an unfamiliar setting. This is the first time since I can remember sharing the warmth of a campfire with someone other than my own. I sit here with a group of interesting individuals, and although I don't particularly trust any of the others, it's comforting to have Aegar in the group to side with.

The flames are peaceful...

I remember that day, 20 years ago. I was supposed to start school the following morning. I thought knowledge was quantified by the amount of books you owned, so I would sneak around and take books and scrolls from elders to prepare myself. I wanted to grow and become a powerful wizard, just like my parents. I was so excited. But I will never forget the sound of the Arkasian horns that night. I had no idea what was going on. They looked like monsters, they were huge, these invaders. I couldn't make out who they were, but I was frightened. I couldn't move, I couldn't run, and I couldn't scream. They destroyed everything and I couldn't do anything about it. I wish I was brave.

Just the other day we came across the ruins of Tevik again, it was another town under the Arkasian rule that was also attacked. Aegar and I passed by here while I was still under his unit around 15 years ago. My first time by I saw the remains of what seemed to be a child. A skeleton about four feet in length laying there with a rusted sword at its side. These children, with sword in hand, had to fight amongst men for survival, when I could barely stand. I was ashamed.

But Im different now. I'm stronger and fearless. I've been chased off these roads countless of times into hiding, but im back with a different purpose. In these flames I see visions of coming disaster, and whether this group shares a common purpose or not, I will do anything to prevent it.

Out of all the people Aegar had come to find himself on this journey with. He'd never imagined he'd see Iman Pyregrip again. The last time he saw the boy was during the fall of the Empire, and he was but 10 years old. The boy he met then was a very timid one, but after having seen his home and family savagely ripped away; who could blame him? Aegar saw it imperative that the boy be taught some basic fighting skills. They would be his only means of survival in the years to come, that is if he isn't destroyed by the barbarians.

Iman today was no longer the timid boy Aegar once knew. He had grown strong and tall into a man with great capabilities. But Aegar had come to notice something that haunted him. Whether by pure chance, or as means or survival, or maybe it was the gods continuing to punish Aegar; Iman had become a Barbarian. Much like the ones who toppled the great Arkasian Empire and brought Aegar's life to ruins. This deeply concerned Aegar, as he could not understand how someone could be satisfied with such a way of life. The life of a knight was once one of great responsibility and honor, If only Aegar had made sure to impress the importance of such things upon young Iman.

But in this failure, Aegar sees a source of redemption. Throughout the course of this journey, he will try to right the wrongs of his past. And perhaps he can bring Iman back to some semblance of the young friend he once knew.

Along the way Raishe decided to cut his hair short, and wear a hood at all times with simple monk vestments over chainmail. The vestments gave him away.

"Hello there brother!" Hailed someone above a stone mound various meters beside the road. "Come and join us by light of fire folks, these are dangerous times with bandits and foul creatures about."

The party had walked hard and far that day, so the invitation to partake in food and hearth by Raishe's brothers in the faith seemed to raise their spirits.

They all stared back at Raishe as if for approval. They knew, they all knew. He had only ventured to tell Barendd and Pageflap, but the rumors had begun to circulate in Katagia before they took their leave. While he hoped that by staying quiet, and speaking little he could fend off any suspicion amongst the rest of his companion the result ended up being the opposite.

Kit began to question why did the cleric not engage in conversations of theology, history or anything at all with him.

Iman had not met a person of the faith that had either fled from him, attempted to convert him or chase him off. Non of which Reishe seemed to be interested in doing.

And Aegar, Aegar just knew. He knew what killing for the first time did to men, and Reishe could have just as well have parchment nailed on his back that read what he was hiding.

He wished nothing more than to sit by those who shared his faith, and his new found companions by am already set fire, and roasting meat, but it was too risky, he wasn't able to make out how many nor what kind of group the pilgrims had, but if by any chance there was a paladin... Maybe they wouldn't recognize him, but sin was easy to smell to these people, and his brief time on the trail with his own group had thought him that he was currently no good at hiding what ailed him, nor who he was.

He lowered his head, and walked down the road as he spoke. "I'm sorry brothers, if we wish to make it to our destination in time we don't have any time to waste. Thank you for your generosity, may the lord richly bless you. I pray that I might return the gesture to you some other time."

"I'm sorry friends." He said in a lower voice to his companions, eyes averting their gaze as he continued walking. There were sighs, there were moans, and those who had their doubts about Reishe had them no more. He was the outlaw priest.

It has been nearly a decade since I've had to worry about where my next meal was coming from, and my mood was sour. Bitterness at the turn my life had taken, I barely spoke for days. That fate had led me to this point, bereft of friend and no escape from derision. I felt a fool from morn to eve the whole day long over my hasty decision to flee.

I had only known Barendd as a patron of the arts with some connections to less savory characters, but I felt he would be my best chance to escape the fate that befell my uncle. It came as a surprise to me that he was the one who was going to smuggle me out of the city. I had gone to him expecting him to KNOW someone, not expecting him to BE the someone.

As the days trudged along, I began studying the book my uncle had always near at hand. Whenever he was asked about it, he talked of a man who sold his soul for all the knowledge of the world. I had always assumed he was talking about a play he was writing and that this eventual masterpiece was contained within the pages of this tome. That was not the case. Upon opening it, I was struck by the strangeness of the writing, intermingled with my uncle's own notations. It seemed to be a grimoire of more than passing uncanny. I have had some difficulty in the deciphering of its meaning, but I will have it. It does seem, though, that my uncle was the one who had sold his soul. Or at least had made some bargain. That bargain was contained within these pages. I would have the secret soon.

In the meantime, as the days trudged on, I found myself mired in tedium. As we started on our journey, my fame preceeded me, and I found it necessary to call upon my skills with makeup and putty to alter my features, though, often enough, a simple change of stride and dropping or raising my voice an octave or two was enough to fool the casual observer. And, if necessary, I was able to easily call upon the sorcerous skill that is my birthright to quickly change my appearance. But as it became clear that I was no longer a target, I grew emboldened to again entertain. I had had enough of cold gruel around a sputtering campfire, and I would make certain that the six of us would soon have better fare and accomodation.

And I soon saw the means to have it.

At first, I barely paid attention when the others joined the journey. I had thought merely Barendd had hired them as further protection, and I vaguely wondered how I was going to pay for the extra swords. They seemed rough types, and I was determined to keep my distance.

I scarcely knew what to think when the Kenku joined us. I had heard of the bird people. Cursed, human-like, and flightless. Most thought them to be legend. I had certainly never thought to actually meet one! And then I heard him speak. As he told us the tale that led him to us, my mouth hung open. He effortlessly switched from one voice to another and back again. It was flawless! I admit to a certain amount of professional jealousy as I am known far and wide for my talent at mimicry. But this creature! This Pageflap! Though I am loathe to admit it, his skill outstrips my own.

Once my petty feelings subsided, though, I knew what I needed to do. From memory, I taught him a number of plays, giving him the parts to repeat and the voices to repeat them in. Though he had the voice, I could not see him playing the parts to suit me, his appearance too shocking for a simple audience. As I had done in the past, I created an illusion of a second actor. But this time, it could have a voice! The perfect voice!

As I stood on the stage in the backwater, one-inn town we found ourselves in, I began with my line.

"Goats, from a shepherd who stands here, from Lacon, keep away: Sibyrtas owns him; and he stole my goatskin yesterday."

I mentally commanded the image I had summoned to move in response, and the Kenku, who stood to the back of the makeshift stage, let loose with a suitably comical tone, with the predictable murmur of laughter from the crowd.

"Hi! lambs! avoid yon fountain. Have ye not eyes to see
Cometas, him who filched a pipe but two days back from me?"

The second time we enacted The Battle of the Bards, it began as successfully, but Pageflap's hidden position was not as hidden as it should have been. When the audience noticed him, I expected anything but the response we received: more uproarious laughter than I had ever received for the playlet! What a coup! That is until I realized that I was being upstaged by an amateur! Nothing more than a copy! I seethed with jealousy, I am not ashamed to admit. But, then, the showman in me took over and I realized I must turn the part of Cometas over to this strange birdman who was delighting the crowds even to the final line.

"By Pan I will! Snort, all my herd of he-goats: I shall now
O'er Lacon, shepherd as he is, crow ye shall soon see how.
I've won, and I could leap sky-high! Ye also dance and skip,
My horned ewes: in Sybaris' fount to-morrow all shall dip.
Ho! you, sir, with the glossy coat and dangerous crest; you dare
Look at a ewe, till I have slain my lamb, and ill you'll fare.
What! is he at his tricks again? He is, and he will get
(Or my name's not Cometas) a proper pounding yet."

And then it struck me! Between the two of us, Pageflap and I could provide various voices as our comrades paraded on the stage (coupled with an illusion or two, along with the appropriate noises and, sometimes, odors provided by Pageflap's own magical skills). Although Barendd seemed game enough (and became an audience favorite), and Raishe at least appreciated the linguistic legerdemaine involved in crafting a suitable pun, Iman and Aegar seemed a little, shall we say, intense to be crowdpleasers. When an audience isn't sure if they should applaud or avoid eye contact, things can get a little uncomfortable.

And though Barendd was sore disappointed that I refused to let him use his own voice, he was yet thrilled that I cast him in the roll of the King. Less pleased were Aegar and Iman cast as Tidy and the Slut (though I think Aegar hid a smirk at Iman's discomfort in his roll as the slattern who marries a king by a cruel trick of fate). Raishe, for his part, was pleased to remain behind the scenes for these performances, the ribald nature perhaps too saucy for him.

With Pageflap able to provide the voices for the other characters, I was in my full glory as the narrator. Though having fewer lines, the final word is mine, and it never failed to leave the proper impression on the audience as to our lots and how the cruel hand of fate could bring down the mightiest among us. Using illusion to grow my height and darken my countenance, the audience shivered and then roared as I intoned the lesson for those who, mayhaps, overlooked it:

Now that the play is at an end,
By CHANCE you have enjoyed it, friend;
By CHANCE to you his sweet was gall;
By CHANCE you slumbered through it all.
Howe'er it be, it was by CHANCE
The KING was led so merry a dance,
By CHANCE that TIDY met disgrace,
By CHANCE alone SLUT washed her face;
From morn to eve the whole day long
It was by CHANCE that things went wrong.
Wherefore, good friends, t' escape derision,
Be not o'er hasty in your decision,
For he who heedeth not this rule
BY CHANCE HE WILL BE CALLED A FOOL!

In any town, village, or hamlet, it was the rarity that we did not eat and drink our fill and have a warm spot to lay our heads!

It has been a jolly rip, I must admit, and has done much to pass the days.

Kit barely suppresses a shudder as he attempts to peer through the gloom. In a low but audible voice, he mutters, Dark, dark! The horror of darkness, like a shroud, wraps me and bears me on through mist and cloud.

Aegar, out of sheer habit, scans the area for traps or any obvious signs of foul play. thinking to himself Something about this just doesn't feel right. Although, for now, he keeps this thought to himself.

Seeing the felled log Barendd grabs a handaxe from off of his belt, and says to the group, "We might as well get this out of the way. I'm not particularly interested in trying to drag the whole thing in one piece, so does anyone else want to help?"

Iman proceeds to the log and nudges at it to try to get a good judge of the weight. He wedges the end of his halberd underneath the log and pushes it up like a lever to attempt to roll the log just enough to create a path for the party to walk through.

"Argh, heavy thing. Chopping it to pieces might be our best bet if we cant move it. Im in!

Thinking that chopping the log up into smaller pieces to move around is an excellent idea, Pageflap hangs back and decided to watch the other, more strength inclined members of the party do just that. As it is now, he is well aware he has no chance of moving the thing. Perhaps once it's in smaller pieces he'll be able to help. Maybe they'll get some firewood out of this?

He doesn't feel to comfortable just sitting back and watching, so he looks around to see if there's a notable place to start chopping. He looks at the tree top to bottom.

Ah there's a good lad Iman, but a halberd is no tool for chopping a log. Borrow one of my handaxes so we can get to work. I myself like to always work smarter and not harder. Let me look around and see where we should put the debris.

Kit, still staring at the dimly lit woods with trepidation, suddenly realizes he's standing by himself as everyone has walked up to address the log problem. Deciding it would be prudent to stick close to his burly Dwarven friend, he walks around the log to Barendd, helping him inspect the area.

Frustrated at his inability to see clearly, Kit casts Dancing Lights, keeping each of the four lights within 20' of each other, but spreading them around in enough of an area to light up the fallen log.

Barendd makes careful effort to look at his already drawn handaxe and then to the bandit who spoke, Oh hello friends. Trust me when I say that I know how serious you are. Please believe me when I say that this is not the group, and I am not the Dwarf for you to ply your trade upon. I am Barendd Dankill and I promise you my possessions will stay mine.

Trying to keep an eye on as many of the bandits as possible, Pageflap begins to focus on the orb atop his staff. Memorizing the noise he needs to produce and the actions he needs to take, he begins to ready his Mage Armor spell, preparing it in case the bandits begin to advance upon them with ill intent.

Iman lifted his halberd and took an intimidating stance towards the bandit who spoke, preparing himself for whatever response the scoundrels would bring.

Aegar hastily readies his longbow and takes aim at the bandit who spoke, shouting back Oi! You best get off that log and be on your way before you catch a splinter or two.

He directs himself to the "leader" of the bandits as well.
"I'd be remiss if I did not counsel you to heed the Dwarf's sound advice. There need be no violence today."

Quietly to Kit Whelp buddy, things seem to be going a little sideways
To the Bandits Well friends I'm not sure this will be easy, but rest assured, from one criminal to another, you will be lucky to have hands attached to you to bring back to this "Night Lord" empty or otherwise.
Barendd then throws one of his handaxes at the bandit speaking to me aiming at his torso/ center of mass.

Aegar stiffens with the violence now erupting before him. Suddenly his mind is overtaken by visions of fires, people fleeing and then falling limp, and finally a woman and young girl on the floor dead. Aegar snaps back to reality, and a deep rage now burns within him. AHHHHHHHHHH a loud battle cry bellowed from his lips as he switches his target to the other bandit atop the log and loosed an arrow.

"HAHAHAAAA", Iman laughs in excitement. "You scoundrels won't be getting the best of me this time!"

Iman enters a battle rage and lets out a ferocious battle cry as he charges 15 feet towards the 2 bandits at one side.

Iman clenches his halberd and swings it towards the side of the torso to first bandit in reach.

Iman, after gashing the enemy, notices the raised shortsword coming his way in retaliation. Iman reacts. With the weight of the polearm still in swinging motion he follows it through with a spin to make an attack of opportunity.

As hostilities rise and violence seems imminent, Kit swallows visibly, but stands his ground next to Barendd.

In his best theatrical voice, he intones:
And you in ruff of your opinions clothed;
What had you got? I'll tell you: you had taught
How insolence and strong hand should prevail,
How order should be quelled; and by this pattern
Not one of you should live an aged man,
For other ruffians, as their fancies wrought,
With self same hand, self reasons, and self right,
Would shark on you, and men like ravenous fishes
Would feed on one another....


His eyes widen as a crossbow bolt hits Barendd square in the chest and the burly Dwarf falls to the ground. He turns back just in time to avoid the full brunt of a shortsword, but still taking a good nick. His mouth drops open.

And he runs, screaming, into the bushes.EDIT:

Aegar see's his friend fall and knows what he must do. As a crossbow bolt whizzes past him, Aegar enters an all out run to help cover Barrendd. As he runs he pulls his battle ax out and wields it in his right hand. Using the momentum from his run, Aegar strikes at the bandit's feet hoping to cleave him in twain.

Pageflap clamped down on the bit of panic that was crawling up his spine, it had been about three or so years since he'd been in a fight. He had to remind himself that these bandits probably weren't anywhere near the level those adventurers were at. Then the dwarf was knocked out and he had to push down on his panic again once Kit ran into the woods.

The woman in front of him didn't seem reluctant, but she was still trying to ward him off. Did she maybe notice him cast Mage Armor while everyone was drawing weapons? She was probably a smart one, keeping him too close for him to fling a fireball, so instead he rushes at her. His beak opens to the crackling sound of static, talons shaping his magic as he reaches at her with his Shocking Grasp, hopefully paralyzing her long enough for him to made a dash for cover.

Almost immediately it becomes apparent that this was a bad idea. Any attempt to get close to her and she swipes with that sword of hers! Awkwardly trying to reach around, he figures it is a lost cause and the elemental lightning fizzles from his talons. Figuring that she is going to attack him anyways, Pageflap looks towards the foliage covering the sides of the road and decides to take a chance and make a break for it, hoping his Mage Armor protects him in his attempt.

Raishe is stunned by the attack, but upon seeing Barendd pierced by the crossbow bolt he instinctively says a prayer for Barendd.
Remembering the bandit in front of him Raishe takes a swing at him, and retorts, "That makes two of us. "

Iman, with eyes now fully clouded in white (still in rage), turns toward the massive log roadblock and locks in on the crossbow wielding bandit on the left."RAAHH!!", Iman roared.
Iman gets a running start to try to jump and scale the massive log.

After managing his way up the roadblock, Iman readies his weapon to make a full thrust towards the bandit and will attempt to flip his halberd and take a bonus action to bludgeon the bandit with the end of his polearm.

"YOU'RE NEXT", Iman shouted to the bandit.

Barendd opens his eyes and immediately waves of confusion rush over him. How did he end up on his back is his main question followed by what's with this hole in armor and why does my chest feel like it's holding a hot coal? This suddenly gives way to immediate and intense anger as he realizes there is fighting afoot. The bandit he had axed and a friend of his seems to be rather preoccupied on top of the log with Iman who's anger can be felt in the air. No matter the outcome it seems that our group of merry men will be having a conversation afterwards so that Barendd can have the pieces filled in for him. He rises to his feet, drawing his scimitar in his right hand as he had somehow managed to hold on to his second handaxe in his left. The most prudent action seemed to lash out at the bandit nearest to him. Seems we're in the thick of it now, eh boys? Barendd says quite generally whether to bolster he and his friends or alert the bandits that they're night would be anything but easy, the overall message was clear. He's back in the fray and quite happy to be so.Barennd takes a huge swing with his handaxe, aiming at the bandit's sword arm, hoping to either remove it or pin it to the log they are both standing at. Using his momentum to follow through the attack he sweeps around with his scimitar for a second attack on the bandit who made the mistake of staying too close to Barennd. This time he aims for the torso just below the ribcage, hoping for a deep slash in the vital organs.

Things seem to have gone well enough, it seems. He wasn't expecting the fight to end as soon as he jumped into the bushes, but that is indeed what had happened. It is a little embarrassing, but it has been a few years since he fought other than that time when he and Raishe snuck around the bandits. Maybe he could make it look like he did this on purpose?

"Kit Marlowe," he called to the party in Kit's own flamboyant voice. This was juxtaposed by him then using Kit's terrified scream as he points deeper into the woods. He also mimicked those strange howls he heard in that direction, waving his staff like a club. Having told them he plans on going to look for him and there might be a bit of danger, he pauses for a bit, body language a little hesitant to ask if anyone else wants to accompany him?

Iman and Raishe should probably stay behind, he had plenty of time traveling with Raishe to know he had a very good swinging arm, as he saw a month back. And Iman seemed to somehow be able to cast Blade Barrier without the magic so the two of them may be enough to keep the rest of the bandits from acting up. Barendd still has some degree of injury, and Pageflap does not know how long it is that he's been fighting. For all he knew this could have been his first fight! Though he did a number on the leader with that first axe throw....

Aegar could probably help him search better. He's pretty sure those pointy ears mean something elfy, so he can probably see in the dark. He keeps his gaze on him for a bit before wondering if maybe Aegar can help the party if the bandits get brave. Finally turning, he heads into the woods, pulling a torch out of his backpack. Best to keep it on hand in case they need a light, but whatever it was that was howling may see them better, so Pageflap opted to keep his prestidigitation spell on hold for a while longer.

Aegar laughed as he watched Barrendd yank his weapons from the log. Barendd! You felled the beast! That log will harm us no longer! Aegar joked as he shifted his battle ax to left hand. Now, what are we to do these here hoods? Aegar says thinking aloud, quickly he takes off his backpack and pulls out 50ft of Hempen rope. Using his battle ax he chops some of the rope into the 5ft segments, and puts the rest back in his pack before returning it to his back. Iman! Take this and tie up that smart mouth next to you! Aegar tosses a segment rope up to Iman before hearing a strange noise off to his side. The Kenku (whom everyone had been referring to as Pageflap) was trying to alert the group that the actor of their group Kit Marlowe had gone off running in fear into the woods.

Aegar sighed and realized that he was the only one whom would be of any real assistance in tracking their lost compatriot. Barendd, when you're finished fighting that log use this rope to tie up those other 2 bandits. They may be of some use to us. Aegar tossed the rope next to Barendd and quickly made off after Pageflap, who was already heading off into the woods.

Hearing the weird howling, Kit jumps out of the bushes, looking back quickly. He turns back to the battle, only to see a newly risen Barendd seemingly accepting the surrender of the bandits. Cautiously approaching the log, lest the battle erupt again, he quickly runs his hands over his clothes, dirt and debris from the bushes disappearing and the wrinkles smoothing out. Well, he says, clearing his throat. Good show, chaps. Glad I was able to get out of the way so you could have room to vanquish these fiends. He pauses as he surveys the situation. But, uh, what do you propose we do with them? He glances back toward the woods. And can we, uh, make that decision somewhere else? I think these ruffians are not the only danger in these woods.

Casting Prestidigitation to clean Kit's clothes.

Tsch, so we're letting them live, eh? Iman catches the rope as he kicks the dropped crossbow to the other side of the log. Grabbing the bandit leader by his injured shoulder, Iman slams him face down, begins to tie his wrists behind his back, then kicks him off the log towards Barendd.

After making his way down the log, Iman hands Barendd the handaxe that initiated this battle.
Who are these guys?

Seeing Barendd standing brought a smile to Raishe's face.

He grabs a piece of rope from what Aegar left behind, and tied the arms of the bandit at his feet as well.
"No hard feelings, I forgive you lad." Whispers Raishe as he touches the bandit's forehead.

Seeing Kit hop out of the bushes just as he was crossing the treeline, Aegar stopped and hollered into the wood Paegflap! Its okay, Kit is over here! Come Back!. He strolls over to the nearest dead bandit and pokes at him with his foot. Didn't put up much of a fight now did he? If you other hoods don't want to reach the same fate, you best start telling us whats going on here. Aegar says this loud enough for all the bandits to here, and as speaks he swings his battle-ax (as if practicing for an execution)

Barendd collects his various accouterments, placing his axes back at his side, and sheathing his scimitar. He takes special care to grab the bolt he was shot with, placing it into his pack. He tied up his assigned bandit. Barendd then walks up to the bandit who shot him, staring intensely, almost menacingly. Then a smile breaks out on his bearded face. Well people have to eat I suppose, and that was a hell of a shot. I told you this was the wrong group. Turnabout is fair play I suppose. Barennd the tears off the symbol the bandit wears saying, "This should make a good tattoo." He then turns his attention to Aegar, "You old lout have your fun and make your jokes now, when we find a tavern, we'll be playing some knuckley dice. You know, the drinking game I've never lost and you've never won." To the group at large. Well gents, now that I'm done embarrassing myself, I suggest we either set up camp or continue on to town, either way our new acquaintances made mention of some sort of reward, so we may want to bring them along. At any rate they wanted our belongings,
but if any of theirs were to suddenly become yours then there would be no harm. They'll soon be incarcerated, and this definitely falls in line with the life they lead. With that Barendd starts to rummage through the head bandits belongings, make care to not aggrevate the axe wound. No need to add injury to insult.

"Heading into town sounds good, we can turn these fine folk in once there."
Raishe raises the somewhat unconscious bandit in order to assist his walking back into town. As he does this he realizes the irony of the situation. "I should be turned in" , he thinks.

What of this roadblock then? Did anyone of you guys see a way around?

Well last time I tried to do anything with the log I got ambushed and shot, maybe we should just go over it.

One could always go around.

I believe going around may be the faster option, with our new captives in tow. Aegar walks over and helps the bandit who Iman shoved off the log to his feet. You spoke of a reward for your capture, Who is it that is offering this reward? And where might we find them?

wait, is the reward worth enough to justify the effort to bring them with us for a time? I mean we COULD kill them. I mean I almost died, it seems just... Just Kidding, technically they're my people. At least the past me.

Pageflap walks over to the log and pats a section that he noticed earlier, drawing attention to it.
He mimics the sound of chopping wood then speeds it up a bit, noting that if they could go through it this would be the fastest point to try. Pointing at the ends of the log that go deeper into the woods, Pageflap repeats the howling sound to remind them of danger.

He pauses and cocks his head to the side, before using Prestidigitation to make a small illusion of a flame appear on his talon. The sound of a campfire fills the air as Pageflap suggests maybe burning the weak section, looking around at the surrounding foliage to assess the risk of a forest fire.

"Smarter not harder. Great idea Pageflap. Any objections team

Aegar pulls 2 handaxes out of his pack Lets do it, anyone need an axe? I have a spare

None, here. Light it up Crow, but don’t go burning us all up!

Deciding to be careful about this, Pageflap pulls out his waterskin and gestures for everyone else to do the same. Telling them through the sound of a splash and a fire being smothered that this is a just in case the fire starts spreading thing, he also points to Kit and says "Prestidigitation" before snuffing the illusory fire out. The six gallons of water and the magical ability to snuff campfires should be enough from keeping them safe, and Iman has been excellent at finding fresh water for all six of them to drink.

Once the bandits are away from the log, Pageflaps speaks the sound of a match being lit, and at the wave of his talons a Fire Bolt gets launched at the log's weak point. Some Prestidigitation keeps the fire from spreading and more fire bolts cover a larger area of the weak point.

Rather than relight the sections that run out of fire on their own, Pageflap opts to leave those to the axe wielders. The blackened wood is weak enough for the axes to pretty much shave off.

Kit eyes the cloaks for a moment, thoughtful. These may well do for a rousing performance. A re-enactment of a scene of treachery and villainy from coarse ruffians. He turns the one he is holding over in his hand, eyeing the symbol. Mayhaps less wise to wear a bandit's symbol in public, though.

Aegar and I have a drinking game that we'll need to be playing after our performances earlier. Anyone else is welcome to join, though neither he nor I are known to sip our beverages. Before that though there's business to be dealt with and hopefully coin to fund our game. I believe some type of reward was offered for our new friends? Specifically one for keeping them alive that is more lucrative than killing them outright? Is my memory correct Bandits? Is there a place that will pay us more for bringing you there alive, and if so where is it? Or would it be better for us to kill you all and stack you behind the Inn as we drink?

Aegar and I have a drinking game we need to play. Everyone else SIPS. BANdits alive. Quiero oro. Oro PARA cerveza ¿No oro? Todos están MUERTO. Stack drinking at the INN, because memories are A GAME! PAy beEr.

He knew what he wanted to say, what came out of his mouth was not that. It seemed like he got the message across to his friends well enough that he wanted to drink, but afterwards his vice betrayed him, his tongue moved unexpectedly, and he somehow didn't understand himself. As these foreign noises left his mouth he thought maybe the holy healing that he had received from Raishe was still working through him somehow. Perhaps when a man uses his faith to heal you, and you've lived your whole life devoid of faith outside of the world you can see, maybe that clash has some unforeseen side effects. If he can ever get his words back he'll talk with his friend who quite possibly saved his life and see if this is anything he knows of. In all honestly it could be that he recently got shot in the chest and got better. Who knows? Barendd is just a dwarf who damaged a tree in a fight with bandits who still really needs a drink.

Who is it that you guys were hunting? I remember you mentioning a wagon of some sort back in the woods?

"¡Responde la pregunta!" Barendd yells, trying to assist Iman, though this unknown tongue is still quite vexing even to himself. He clears his throat and calms himself, and tries again. "I would advise answering the barbarian's question." For the time being it seems like his language only makes sense if he is more calm and collected, though he seemed to regain control of his volume which seems like a step in the right direction. He definitely needs to have a sit down with Raishe.

While looking towards the village, Pageflap commits Barennd's strange language to memory, gaining the ability to spout gibberish on command. Maybe he'll ask him later on what language it was, or he'll do some research on it.

He doesn't see many people out and about at the moment, which could be a combination of it being supper time and what seems to be a lot of abandoned buildings.

He turns back to the group. "There aren't many people left in this town," he repeats in the woman's voice. He then repeats the name they heard from rumors on the way here. "Ralavaz."

He meant to make it sound like a question, but he's only heard the name spoken once. He hopes it is Ralavaz, otherwise it'll sound like he's assuming things.

Hmm, good point Pageflap, one does get curious if the empty streets are related to fears about Ralavaz.

Kit walks up next to the young girl (the only one of the bandits he's not intimidated by). He hands her a small, metallic rose and says, A trifling that will not last. It feels appropriate. An approximation of you. Beauty and danger in equal parts. He gestures to the fields and houses. This landscape is desolate and these homes filled with emptiness. What has happened to this place? Was it ever thus?

Casting prestidigitation to create a trinket in the form of a small, metallic rose. It will only last for a few seconds.

Barendd steps in front of Rose and kit, to hopefully give one of friends the time to untie Rose"¡Hola, mucho gusto amigos!" Barendd yells at the approaching sheriff siblings. He then remembers his strange malady and waits until they are within normal speaking range. "We met our friends here in the forest and they let slip that there might be a reward for their return, more sizable if they were brought back alive. I hope that's the case, because I just can't stand being lied to. Rose here has been kind enough to act as our guide about town. She was just recommending her mother's inn. Some gold would come in quite handy in paying for a night's stay. ¿Comprende? He must have been a bit excitable at the end. You can be a retired criminal for as long as you'd like, but you don't really get comfortable talking to the law.

Kit shrugs. Things occur to me. Ideas. Pictures. Words. It seemed appropriate.
Kit looks upon her with sorrow in his eyes. Poor naked wretches that bide the pelting of this pitiless storm. How shall your houseless heads defend you from seasons such as these? If we think on these things without all remedy, shall we be without regard? Or is it true that what's done, is done?
Kit watches as Barendd interposes himself between him and Rose and the sheriff. As the Dwarf speaks of reward, Kit's heart is heavy. He looks to the boarded up buildings and the fallow fields. None of this feels right to him, yet he feels powerless to do anything about it. It is not just Rose he pities, but all of these bandits. The crushing despair that has driven them to this is not something he's familiar with. Even in his earliest days in the theater, scrabbling for coppers, he knows he was always there by choice. That at any moment, he could choose to take control of his fate and use what was his by accident of birth to raise himself from the lowest of situations. Indeed, that is what he did. But these low creatures? This Rose, by name and by mien? What choices did they have?

Near to tears, he briefly places a hand of ineffectual comfort on Rose's shoulder before walking away, unable to bear witness to the inexorably unfolding events.

Iman could see faces peeking out from behind the boarded windows. He would see fathers and mothers hurrying inside with their children as if the group was Coming to cause trouble. Iman was not used to villages and masses of people, and even though this town wasn’t at its best, it still made him feel uncomfortable. But as soon as Iman heard the Kenku speak, he remembered all that he had endured which gave him the courage to speak up.

"I’m not some folk hero, I’m far from holy, and I can care less about your money. But I can understand some of the hardships your people are going though. I’m looking for more of these scums here. To rid them of these lands and allow man to settle. There have been many of us that are still affected from what happened 20 years ago and I have yet to see a significant development towards what used to be. I’ve wandered for miles and miles, surviving with the few people I have met since then, and I still smell fear on everyone, with the exception of the group I travel with. I may not look the part, and I’m definately not the brightest. But I want to be part of the solution, and I feel like I can play my that by executing the enemies that keep us from rebuilding. Now tell me, what is it you fear?

This all seems redundant and unnecessary now

How about as a reward the town boards us for the evening, pay our tab at the inn, allow us a good night's sleep, a good meal, plenty of good drink, some time to speak with Rose, and we'll be able to give you our answer in the morning?

"Ralavaz..." Iman keeps echoing that name in his head while completely phasing out everything the sheriff tells them on the way to the Inn. A meal and a good nights rest is definitely in need.

Kit appears morose as the bandits are led away, and the group is shown to the Inn. Perhaps there is something we can do to lift some of the spirits of these people. A temporary balm to their woes. He turns to the sheriff and says, Dear lady, perhaps you could spread the word to the townsfolk to attend the inn at dusk. A free performance of wit and whimsy to add color to their day. I think when the innkeeper sees the crowd drawn, you will not be asked to task the town's meager coin to lodge us.

The news that Whitesparrow was named after a Kenku general was quite a surprise. It made him wonder if there were any other Kenku among these lands. Should he be able to tell them that he has somehow made progress on breaking the curse and has a lead in Arkasia he may be able to score himself and his allies some help! If they believe him, that is. When you're cursed long enough that no one even remembers who cursed you it just becomes a fact of life.

Still, the knowledge that a Kenku lived in a castle all the way over here fills you with a sense of giddiness. In addition to the pride in one's race, there is also the realization that for Lord Whitesparrow to rise to the rank of general must have meant that he was a very smart bird. Being a Kenku, there was no way he would have been able to come up with any of his plans or maneuvers on his own. It was very likely that there was a plentiful library in that keep.

There is the problem of it possibly being haunted, though. May have to wait until morning because there's no way he's going in there at night. Should probably bring the holy man with him too. The thought of all the books makes Pageflap salivate, he had been thinking that all he had to look forward to in this town was looking into the voidwater!

Not only that, but there is also that big hand thing that's just screaming magic! That'll need some looking into, and he's got just the spell in his book to do so! Though he runs into the problem that he's noooot quite ready for it yet. Oh sure, he's got the verbal command and the gestures down, the orb he screwed to the top of his staff should substitute for the owl feather he'll need as well. However, he cannot substitute the pearl needed for the spell to work its magic. He hopes he can find one in the market that is of a high enough quality....

Still, it wouldn't hurt to go see the thing before nightfall. Get a good look at it, see if he gets a vision, see if he can detect any magic. Pageflap should still be good for one more higher level spell for the day.

Raishe felt suspicious of the sheriff and her brother, yet it could very well be that the whole town itself was on edge. However, a nice bath, hot food, and some rest at the inn was mostly all he could think about at the moment.

There was definitely a lot to look forward to given the time. The dam sounded like quite a site to behold, and that hand... was it truly older than the empire? Regardless, hearing about another Kenku made him glad for Pageflap. For such a renowned general to be a kenku, perhaps his story could provide further insight into the kenku's history, and the trouble they carried.

I thank you for your help Sheriff. My compatriots and I are weary from our travels, and my dwarven friend and I have a game to play requiring a copious amount of ale. I trust that by the morrow we will have decided what we plan to do during our time in your town. Aegar drank all of his ale in the very beginning of their trip, and thus is quite eager to get inside and make up for lost time. If any of you have a need to find me, Ill be wherever the ale is. Having said this to the party, Aegar turns and hurriedly heads into the Inn.

Ooh there's a man with his head on straight. Anyone of age is able to join us who would like to. We can play teams. If not I will drink Aegar under the table and his bed will remain unused tonight. Being careful not to show too much excitement, though genuinely wanting all of his companions to play, he even nods to the sheriff to indicate that she's invited as well and starts heading toward the inn as well. He then looks to Rose, My dear Rose, I realize you are a bit on the edge of being old enough, but seeing as we will be staying in your mother's inn, I would advise spectating and not trying to match the drinks we take.
Before he begins heading back to the inn he addresses the rest of the team. Any plans of a show that you would require Aegar and I for you may want to work quick or reconsider Kit. My tongue still may betray me, just as Aegar's sobriety might betray him, plus your general malaise seems like it will benefit from a drop or two. Pageflap, my favorite winged wizard, I know not if the Kenku enjoy imbibing, nor their tolerance, but you are quite learned and I trust your judgement as to whether you should or shouldn't participate. Iman you are the wildest among us, if you don't participate today then I hope that you will one day, because I can tell it will be quite fun. Raishe you are a man of faith, but I hear that there are many that devote themselves to a higher power that also enjoy being brought back down to earth by a sip now and again. Either way I have some questions for you at some point this evening.

At any rate the night isn't getting any younger and the ale will not drink itself. ¡Arriba!

Kit raises an eyebrow at Aegar's haste. It appears our friend's Human side has fallen prey to a possession that has little to do with his Elven side's reputation for temperance and control.
Kit raises another eyebrow, in amusement this time. Dear Barendd, still angling for a speaking part, I see. Do not let my malaise trouble you. Suffering is at the soul of all art. In any case, the show must go on. Perhaps you could do the townsfolk a worthy turn and show enough restraint to at least remain on your feet 'til their spirits have been lifted a trifle. Pageflap and I will provide the voices, you need but make a gesture here and there.
Kit raises both eyebrows, wondering how the wingless Pageflap, his kind cursed to gaze upon the sky from an earthbound perch, will react to Barendd's slip.
Kit's back stiffens at this. Dear lady, I am no mere skald, begging for drinks as I flit from town to town! I am a thespian! I turn life into art! History, pageantry, love, despair, hope, yearning! These are my paints! My voice is my brush, and the stage is my canvas! Surely these are worth the loss of a few moments' sleep to the good people of this benighted town!

Kit holds a scented handkerchief over his nose during the entire tour. When they finally arrive at the taproom, he mutters, This will not do. He uses Prestidigitation to clean off the table and chairs before sitting. As he sits, he becomes more and more agitated before finally standing with a huff, before declaring, loudly, No, this will not do at all! He hurriedly moves about the room, repeatedly casting the cantrip to clean every last surface of the room, one cubic foot at a time.

Iman pulls up a chair and sits along the back wall of the room.Marlowe, just don't make me do anything as ridiculous as last time. In fact, id rather you keep me out of it. Just as Iman kicks his feet on the clean table, he notices the bottles of wine behind the bar.

Ho ho! Looks like you and Aegar might have some little fun after all, huh Dankill?

In this case the drink is the road, and I'm personally more focused on the destination. Would you be able to switch from ale to wine this evening Aegar?

So long as it quenches my sober, I could care less what we drink! Dragging those blasted Night Blades all the way here has got me quite thirsty. And if it seems like we have enough, Id be glad to beat you in a game of knuckly dice Barendd. Aegar eyes the room as Kit diligently cleans the dust are dirt off chairs and tables. For an inn, this place seems eerily underused and dirty. Am I the only one who thinks something seems a little off?

Relax there Aegar, no need to worry! Lets just have a little fun and be merry 'til dinner. Now sit down before you become a prop yourself, Marlowe is scheming something for us, haha! Come on, Ill even join this game too.

The wing comment threw Pageflap for a loop for a few seconds before he decided to take it in stride. He was pretty sure that despite appearances Barennd was still somewhat injured. Feathered arms may look kinda like wings to non feathered species, he guessed. Still, a drinking game. He could probably down a few drinks, but he doubted he would be able to even get close to winning, he's seen how the three of them drink. He politely refuses with a shame of his head and a wave of his talon. Besides, he has an excuse to avoid the game this time.

Deciding that twenty minutes is enough time to go take a look at the hand and be back for lunch, Pageflap calls out to the party. In Aegar's voice, he says, "If any of you have a need to find me, I'll be-," he then switches to Willowmane's voice, "-in the shadow of The Hand." He also repeats Philcock's announcement of dinner to tell them all he'll be back soon then leaves the room.

Pageflap heads up to his room. Making sure he still has his dagger and gold on his person, he takes his spell book out of his pack. He pick up his staff and is about to leave when he remembers Aegar's suspicion and decides to investigate the room a bit. Especially the bed, who knows what has gone down on that thing.

Upon the... thing popping out of the tap, Pageflap gives an undignified Squawk and backs away from it until his back hits the door. Finding the best solution to be killing it with fire, he throws a fire bolt at the black grub thing.

Getting frustrated at his lack of success when it comes to spells, Pageflap decides to go with some higher level magic. It's not very hard for him to use his staff's orb to focus his magic, drawing in water from the lingering steam in the room. He mimes holding a dagger, and one made out of ice forms in between his talons. Aiming at the disgusting little slug, Pageflap throws his newly-made Ice Knife at it.

So the wine will be an interesting twist from our ale days at the Chugging Chasm, but the rules are the same. As we have only two dice we can wait for a fourth, or Iman can choose to side with the winner, or you Aegar, his choice.

Haha, alright alright, spectating might be more amusing. Looks like there will be two shows tonight!

Barendd it's your game. So you go first. After your display of power against that log today you could surely use the advantage!

Well to start off the game a toast to you and Iman for your much more effective fighting than mine, and a toast to Raishe for bringing me back from the brink. A toast to Kit, because I feel he must always be toasted, and a toast to Pageflap our feathered friend.

To those we'll meet on our journey, and to those whom we've already met.

With that, and after many rounds of play, and many more drinks, I may have won the game, but the night is ours, because we are both drunk on this dusty wine. Please, once you're ready, make it back to your bed safely friend. Luckily I don't have to get you all the way back home this time. If need be it looks like Iman is absolutely able to keep you out of too much trouble. With that Barendd, clearly drunk, though not as much as his half elf friend directs his attentions at Raishe.
Oy padre I have questions for you. First, how are you at tracing? I require help with a tattoo and now seems like a great time. Second how did you bring me back from the brink barely worse for wear after taking this bolt to the chest (Barendd holds up the bolt he had stored in his boot)? Third do you recognize the tongue I was overcome with after being healed? Fourth, have you had enough wine? Because I feel like I could use more.
As he finishes his last question Barendd takes a hearty swig from the bottle of wine that was being used for the game while brandishing the bolt around much like he would imagine a wizard would brandish a wand.

He pokes it with the bottom of his staff to make sure it's dead. Once satisfied, he puts his backpack back on, not sure if he'll be comfortable sleeping in this room. He runs off and heads back to the tap room to warn the rest of the party.

Bursting in to the smell of wine in the air, Pageflap points back the way he came. "Something seems a little off?" he can't help but say in Aegar's questioning tone, but he follows it up with that horrible screeching noise the slug made before gesturing to his robes. There is some tiny ice shards that just barely managed to reach him, and a little bit of acid that Pageflap just noticed was blocked by his Mage Armor. He reminds himself to clean it before the armor spell ends.

Crow! You look worse off than Aegar, and he can barely stand on his feet! What are you going on about??

Ah, you look anything but rested or relaxed. Would you like some wine? Should we summon Philcock? Something seemed different about him.

Seeing Pageflap bust into the room, Aegar suddenly stands up bumping the table he was seated at. It becomes clear that seeing his compatriot in trouble, Aegar has sobered up faster than any man in the room. I knew something was wrong here! Tell us Pageflap, what has happened?

Still feeling a bit freaked out by the sickening slime slug, Pageflap gives up on bothering to play charades for now and waves for anyone who wants to to follow him. Leading the way, he stops at his room's door and slowly opens it to peer inside. He opens the door further and walks in, looking around the room before settling his gaze on the faucet. He gestures to the room, letting the rest see what state it is in, before pointing out the dead slug and repeating the screech. "No, this will not do at all!"

Thank the fates you survived, my dear boy! I still need you for tonight's performance!

Iman shovels the grub around with his foot. What in the world is this? Now looking back at the sheriff, Iman steps forward and in an angry, but concerned voice, he asks What is going on?! Is there more of this??

Pageflap gestures at his clothes where the Mage Armor is just barely keeping the acid from dissolving the fabric. He repeats the screech for a third time, the screech serving the dual purpose of stating that it was he that was attacked and expressing his dissatisfaction as a customer.

Tilting his head a bit, he also inquires on the going-ons of the village. "They started showing up about a month ago, around the time when the south spring dried up," he repeats, going for elaboration.

Barendd and Raishe had a hearty conversation. Raishe speculates the the strange tongue Barendd spoke in might be a form of celestial speech. Barendd is fascinated, having never had a tie to religion of any sort, these ideas seem like a type of fantasy to him. Raishe indicates there are gods of all shape and size. There are even gods for dwarves. As Raishe is speculating that perhaps when he cast the spell of healing through prayer, perhaps some such deity answered the call and manifested itself with the strange speech. Barendd is fascinated as he insists that Raishe start dotting the outline of the dagger symbol on his chest next to the outline of a heart using the crossbow bolt that nearly stuck him down, dipped in ink that he brews himself. He decides a simple black ink was best. Now he has a new tattoo and a new curiosity.

Thank you holy man, You have given me much to consider, what of these Dwarven Gods? However, it's soon time to turn in perhaps we should join the group and make our plans for tomorrow.

Barendd then places the patch he had taken from the bandits over his tattoo to allow it time to heal, and starts drunkenly wandering the inn looking for Iman and Aegar.

Crow here seemed to have handled it pretty well! I don't think it will be too much of a problem unless more of them come out. Maybe its best we take a look at the drained spring first thing in the morning since it seems like these grubs might be active at night. Lets go catch up with the others for now, Im hearing a lot more commotion coming from the taproom. Seems like the Sheriff brought in a bigger crowd for you Marlowe!

Aegar listened intently as the Sheriff spoke and said not a word in response. He eyed the Sheriff, looking for any obvious signs the he was lying. Aegar waits until Iman and Pageflap head back down to the rest of the party before he speaks. Iman and Pageflap may have accepted what you say as true Sheriff, but know that I am not so easily swayed. I know there is something sinister going on here, and I will find out what it is. Not even waiting to hear the Sheriff's response, Aegar follows in his friend's footsteps and heads back down to the dining room. Just as he rounds a corner, he bumps into Barendd. The dwarf is stumbling and clearly drunk, Aegar notices that he had begun tattooing the Night Blade's symbol upon his body. You best be careful here Barendd, I feel that these locals are hiding something behind their hospitality.

Pageflap contemplates as he sits down in his seat, throwing food down his beak. He gives his input in his own Kenku way as the party converses, but his thoughts are more on the town. The damn slug cost him the magic he was planning on using to check up on the hand, but then again, a fire bolt probably would have been enough if the surprise and frustration didn't get to him. He could still go out and make sure check this time, but he believes they were planning to look into the slugs? He may have to use some of his more powerful spells if there's a lot of them. Besides, he was sure the hand was magic anyways, he could skip the detecting for now. Maybe if he has some leftover magic tonight.

He looks to the side and sees Barennd has a new hollow tattoo. Didn't he get those for new jobs? He mentioned that sometime during their journey here, he believes. Pageflap could have sworn he hired him to help him on his trip to Arkasia... no wait, he has no tattoo for that. That was just something he was contemplating. That means he doesn't have to pay Barennd! He must have come for personal reasons then. Heaven knows Iman did, volunteering himself at the first hearing of the word 'Arkasia.'

Oh, now he remembers that hollow symbol. Guess he and Iman are of like mind when it comes to Ralavaz? Guess they're all gonna be doing that then. Maybe they stole pearls? Iman is still murmuring that name every now and then. He's pretty focused as he shovels more food into himself. Pageflap silently slides his plate of eggs to him.

Thinking back to the slug problem, he recalls Aegar's suspicions. Could the slugs have been on purpose? Maybe? Could be he couldn't throw off his paranoia towards enemy saboteurs from his days in the way, possibly. Though the sheriff did mention it was because of the springs drying, and if the villagers were truly responsible for that how and why would they be able to engineer their own spring drying up? Then again they could have been lying about the spring. He notices that he's been thinking for a while. Oooooh, wait, is he using his creativity right now!? How fun!

OK gents, as much as I enjoy a good meal, and I do say this is a good meal we have to determine what we do from here. After speaking with Raishe I have some personal information I need to look into, but that is not the matter at hand. I feel the bandits drew us to this town, and there are multiple things we can do here. Ralavaz is a concern. As are the slugs that accosted our friend Pageflap. There was an all white Kenku that I'm sure will interest you, there is the hand statue, the hotsprings, and many more points of interest. This town seems to have many quirks and secrets to explore. Because of all these features I decided to consider this town a project for us as a whole, as there seems to be something of interest to all of us in one fashion or another. That's why I know have an unfinished tattoo. The bandits started us on the path here, and once we decide here no longer needs us, then I can finish the tattoo as we continue on our way. A plan seems to me like something we are in need of. I would say that something like Ralavaz would require all of our attention, while researching the white Kenku might only require Pageflap's studiousness. The slugs may be a task for a few of us, etc. Are there any tasks that anyone here feels particularly drawn to? If so is that something you'd like solitude with or would require assistance? I feel drawn to the task of Ralavaz, but that doesn't need to be something we look into right away. So what are your thoughts gents?

Yes, this Ralavaz needs to be dealt with. But if we are going to be staying here a few nights, we might need to find a quick solution for the slugs first. I’m certain this will alllow for our continuous lodging here. I’m sure we will draw some attention to this Ralavaz if we do more for a town that is under his watch, you know, maybe bait him to us?

Thank you for breakfast Amanda. It has been truly splendid. I feel inclined to help with this bug problem. As In an stated, you've been so very welcoming, and I think it appropriate for us to help in keeping this place above ground and standing. What do you say gentlemen? If we are of a chord might I suggest that perhaps the sinkhole would be a good starting place.

So where is he now? Where can we find him? As Iman asks about any leads to Ralavaz, he downs his plate of sausage and eats his share of bread, then eyes Pageflap’s newly arrived plate that has been untouched.

Who wants to go on a little hunt?

Well, doing some good for this Inn could do us some help. I’ve been on hunts before, they take patience. We can likely draw him to us and save us a trip. I’m rather reckless, so I’ll go where the holy man goes.

Damn, he was hoping for more information than that as a thank you for unintentionally not hurting her baby girl.... He nods to Barennd in agreement towards the unsatisfaction.

He turns to Raishe and repeats his phrase about the keep being haunted, before then repeating Raishe's own Healing Word. Not being that much of a bird of faith nothing happens as expected, but it did serve to communicate that Pageflap was wondering if Raishe's holy power would help if there turned out to be any truth to this haunting.

"The sinkhole," he adds, in case Raishe would rather do that first.

Hm, I have witnessed undead, but never hauntings, Pageflap. I have no problem in seeking what this "hanting" is all about. I'd assist you all in any way I could. Perhaps we should put it to a vote?

Kit, his spirits lifted tremendously since the rousing performance of the previous evening, has been growing more tight-lipped the farther into these heat-soaked caverns the group has delved. When they reach the dark sinkhole, he peers over the edge as four glowing lights appear around his head. The bright globes move slowly about each other as they descend into the cavern. Can someone tell me why we're doing this instead of just moving on?

Well kit, it seems like something to do. Plus they attacked our friend Pageflap. I for one think we should investigate these slugs.
I'm inclined to think we should use our ropes anchored to the wooden stair to spelunk our way down. It doesn't seem super clear how far we should go though maybe we can estimate the depth if we throw a rock down and see how long it takes to make a sound? Perhaps our ropes toed together will make a long enough line for us to descend down and come back up? Pending how long we estimate the drop to be?

As we are a team and all would you boys mind sharing their rope? Between all of our rope and the pitons and hammer I have in my pack I think we can make our way safely into the hole and, more importantly, it should give us a pretty good way back up.

Pageflap kicks a rock down the hole and counts the seconds it takes to reach the bottom. Afterwards, he takes out his rope and ties it to the foundation of the wooden stairs. To add on to Barennd's explanation of why they are doing this, he vocalizes the sound of coins falling into a bag, maybe they can get more free stuff out of this?

Kit looks at Barendd. Then he leans over and looks sideways down the hole. Then back to Barendd. He points his finger at his chest. You expect me to climb down there? he asks, pointing at the hole.

Honestly I don't expect it. The offer is there for you though. I suppose the alternative is to stay here. Alone. With just your imagination and the sounds that we make while we do whatever down there. I mean it makes sense to leave someone here for whatever may come up that isn't us. Barendd knew that Kit wasn't in this journey for the adventure, and honestly thought that Kit going down the hole wouldn't be something he would necessarily enjoy, but with the weird feelings that the Inn seemed to be giving everyone he honestly felt Kit would be best with the group. Perhaps reverse psychology would work. His days as an enforcer taught him it was easier for people to change their mind than it was to change it for them.

Iman crouches down and picks up a pile of dirt and rubs it around his hands to help his grip of the rope for the journey down.

Well, shall we?he asks as he ties his share of the rope too the others.

Huh, a door with no way to open it? Barendd takes out one of his hand axes and half heatedly knocks on the door with the blunt end of his axe.

Curious, before we go one way or another I'd like to look more into this door. See if there's a lock to pick, or if I might be able to pry it open with my crowbar. It isn't sold gold, but it's quite ornate and I'd like to know what's behind it.

Kit scoffs at Barendd's obvious attempt to frighten him. Though poor, the townsfolk seem to survive just fine without hurling themselves into the bowels of the earth. I doubt there is aught above to fear worse than that below. As his companions begin the climb down and the sheriff heads back, Kit glances back and forth between the two. Other than the Kenku with his remarkable mimicry, the others are hardly suited to the theater. Even so, their time together on the road and the performances they have helped Kit stage have made them all as dear to him as the troupe he left behind. He has no desire to seek adventure and looks at the retreating back of the sheriff. He has less desire to be thought of as one who would abandon his friends and looks as the last of his companions disappear into the gaping maw of the unknown.

He sighs with a projection designed to reach the back rows, flings his cloak aside with great flourish, and eases himself over the side of the hole.

As Kit lowers himself down the rope, sweat pours off his face, stinging his eyes and soaking his goatee. He is not used to physical exertions of any sort, let alone climbing down a steaming shaft by corded rope. His hands slip and he barks out laughter that borders on hysteria. He closes his eyes and breathes heavily, waiting for the panic to pass. When it doesn't, he realizes this will only end when he is at the bottom. One way or another.

When he gets to the golden door, he begins to take a hand off the rope to touch the shining surface, muttering, Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold. He quickly thinks better of it and re-tightens his grip. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls.

By the time he reaches the bottom, Kit is spent. He falls on his back, panting. His hands are red and raw and curled as if they still grip the rope. His voice is rasping and making noises that only barely resemble words.

Glad you decided to join us Kit. Catch your breath as we look about.

Kit stares up at Barendd and lets loose with some truly horrid wheezing, gasping, and coughing that sounds remarkably like a string of vile invectives.

Have a sip of you'd like. Maybe it'll help you collect yourself.
Barendd offers his waterskin to Kit which he filled with watered down wine. So now it's something as thirst quenching as it is slightly inebriating.

Following his companions, Pageflap also stops by the door. Keeping a tight grip with his talons, he investigates the door. Keeping in mind Barennd's description of its composition. Having hollow bones, he doesn't have much trouble holding himself up on the rope, but there are still three more guys coming down so once he's given the door a quick investigation he goes the rest of the way down.

Noticing the direction the tunnel at the bottom, his anticipation suddenly flares up, as well as some apprehension about what it could mean about the slugs. Pageflap tightens his grip on his staff.

Without much vision because of the fog, Iman starts walking a little ahead of the group With one hand on the wall, and the other holding his weapon, just in case something comes out of the fog.
We need to pace ourselves down here, there may not be a way out other than climbing back up, so reserving some strength is probably best. If anything comes at ya down here, we need to make sure we take care of it quick. Any chance we can deal with this fog?

Pageflap shakes his head no, he doesn't have a spell for something like this. He follows behind Iman at a safe distance, his grip on his staff tight and his Mage Armor spell ready to be cast

Damn. Well perhaps we can find the way to the other side of the golden door somewhere through these tunnels, let’s press on, we can’t stay too long down here.

Well that doesn't look good.aybe this has something to do with the dried well. Let me see if I can see anything in that mass.

Hey Pageflap, do these roots seem similar to the slug that attacked you?

Pageflap gives a nod, while thinking about the Burning Hands spell and considering its usefulness.

Wait a minute... so if these roots right here are what that slug was back in the Inn, then that one we saw was definitely not any queen...

As Pageflap begins inching closer to the roots, he waves his staff around himself. Focusing, he draws the arcane strength of cured leather from his orb while speaking his old name, a knife weekly hitting some armor. Protected by his Mage Armor, he pulls out a torch and pokes the root from as far away as he can.

Oh dear! Kit exclaims. Though not as terrifying as a group of armed bandits, fighting wormy grubs is not in his milieu. He backs up a couple steps and waves his fingers at one of them, which is suddenly covered in a shower of sparks.

What is that noise?! Iman exclaims while covering his ears as the screeches echoes through the tunnel.
Ill let you guys handle those grubs, Crow seems to know how to deal with them, and maybe Mr. Dwarf can get a clean hit with Marlowe's help, Iman jests at Barendd.

Iman goes into a rage! Seeing that the range of the tentacles can be unpredictable, he chooses to charge at these first. Charging through the steamy fog with one arm shielding his face, he focuses on the tentacle on the left. Iman grabs the end of his halberd with both hands and attempts a sweep at the base of the tentacle to chop it right off!Iman makes a clean hit, catches his balance and walks back 5 ft while maintaining a defensive stance.

Aegar brandishes his shield in his left hand, and his battle-ax in his right. He hasn't felt such a rush of adrenaline since his days in the service of the Empire, but he was too naive back then; too worried of losing all he had earned. Today Aegar felt no sense of such worry, he stood his ground more confident than he had in years. Holding his shield in place, he readies his axe for any slugs or tentacles that enter is range. He shouts out to the group Get in tight boys! These bloody slugs aren't going to make this one easy!

Argh, these slugs are nasty
Barendd takes a large sweeping backhand swing with his off hand and follows with a large sweeping swing with his dominant hand hoping to cleave one or two of the slugs in half with his handaxes.

Aegar is hurriedly trying to brush off the acid from his clothing when he see's Pageflap stumble as he gains his balance, after being grabbed by a tentacle. Aegar feels the adrenaline coursing through him as he charges over to assist his friend. In a heavy blow, he swings his battle-ax down in an attempt to cut off the tentacle.

"Oh shit Acid"

It was amazing how quickly it took Pageflap to realize what a bad idea it was to poke the root. Pain shot up his leg and he gave out a squawk as he tries to focus on the moment. Feeling dizzy from the pain, he realizes that another attack like that would probably knock him out, mage armor or no.

Much of his focus suddenly comes back to him all of a sudden. Looking towards the suddenly loosened tentacle, he sees Aegar's ax embedded into its flesh. Taking that moment, he reaches towards the tentacle with his talons, the sound of static emanating from his throat.

You are fighting me! Iman yells at the front rank of tentacles who failed to attack the team's cleric.

He moves forward 5 ft towards the same tentacle he attacked and makes another sideways chop to the opposite side he gashed earlier in attempt to finish it off, and following through with a bludgeoning attack with the end of his polearm as a bonus.

Pageflap was planning on backing away, but seeing the spare tentacle wave in his direction changed his mind.

Kit nearly screams as the tentacle lashing out at him brushes passed. He stumbles back a few more steps and then actually does scream, but it sounds like it's coming from behind the tentacled creature.