Benson's Darkmoon Vale Saga Team A IC

[Benson]

47013 AR, Arodus, (August) Toilday (Tuesday) 1 PM

Perched at the edge of civilized lands, the small town of Falcon’s Hollow has always had to rely on itself to solve its problems. Meanwhile, the uncaring lumber barons squeeze the common folk for every last copper, deaf to their pleas. Now the hacking coughs of the sick are heard throughout town. The plague has come to Falcon’s Hollow and the town’s leaders can’t be bothered to stop it.

The day was a hot and blistery one with the sun high above and nay but a tiny breeze. But people still had to work, and even if they didn't want to the Lumber Consortium would make sure they would. People went about their business, pretending things were normal even as loved ones succumbed to a sickness. Th Low Market was at a slight bustle as vendors tried to sell their third rate goods in hopes of earning coin, some hoping to earn enough to use on their ill loved ones for a cure.

The Rouge Lady was of course still in full business as usual, men spending their coin there to forget their misery for even a while and a hot touch. As usual the cruel Kabran Bloodeye was yelling at one of his girls as those inside this illicit establishment could hear.

For the less seedy, The Sitting Duck up to the north, the local hot spot for adventurers, explorers, and other rapscallions looking for excitement was doing fairly well business wise. At the moment two drunken townsfolk were heavily engaged in a game of knivsies.

Creeping ivy and full window boxes cover the façade of the rugged-looking, two-story shop bearing the faded sign “Roots and Remedies.” A line of twenty-some somber townsfolk—some with pale, wheezing children, others seeming to be precipitously near tears—stretches from the open door.

What are our PCs up to?

Map of Falcon's Hollow

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[sirveaux]

Finally forced to wear his chafing armor, Augustin Ferron nurses a pint at the Sitting Duck, keeping an ear out for any leads regarding his mission to the local ruins.

Perception:

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(1d20+9)[25]

As he listens, he ponders if the Rouge Lady might be worth a visit on the way out of town.

[Benson]

Unfortunately, Augustin would not hear anything specific about the Azlanti ruins he sought, but he would catch an exchange between two drunk laborers trying to arm wrestle, but in their drunken state it was pathetic looking.

"Oi!...I swear on me da's grave, my cousin told me how when he went out into the forest to take a leak while cutting sum' trees, workin', he found himself some weird carving...he thinks it some sort of relic...we thinks it could be something worth much coin..mebbe enough to leave this ***thole." One said with a slight slur as the other guy took advantage of his monologue to win the match.

[Starbin]

The dark-skinned dwarf trudged through town, his hood drawn up over his head. Anyone walking near him heard broken muttering and strange noises, causing most to steer clear of him. If one could see his eyes, however, they would notice those sharp chips of obsidian constantly sweeping the street, looking for any signs of a threat.

He had learned long ago to keep his eyes open when moving in and about the Hollow - too many unsavory types trying to take something that wasn't theirs. He kept on hand firmly on the enormous axe he carried over one shoulder, the other occasionally stroked his black beard, tucking the braids back into his belt. Pausing for a moment, he saw the opening to the Low Market ahead, as well as the sign for Goose'n'Gander to his right. The need for supplies had brought him to town, and this was the only place for anyone not in the Company's higher echelons.

A wafting odor on the wind caught his nose, however, stopping him in mid-stride. With a rumble above his belt, he glanced over at the inn to his left, Jak'a'Napes. Sighing, he turned to stomp over there - there wasn't any chance of his avoiding the place now that his stomach was set on Jak's famous griddle cakes.

Pushing through the door, the dwarf sought an empty table and thumped over, sitting down heavily. Waiting for a server, he rested his axe against the wall and pushed his hood back. Best you see ever crumb when Jak was making your food ... you didn't want to lose a single delicious bite.

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Sorry for the delay - hopefully that's a good enough intro for now!

[Amnestic]

Tarn stands outside Roots and Remedies watching the line of coughing and wheezing people with a look of annoyance on his face. Not necessarily at the people themselves, but at what they represented. That is...where his family was due to end up - his mother, anyway. His sister would rather stay at the temple praying for salvation. Hoping that her god or another would offer her some miracle cure, even though Lady Cirthana had had no more luck than she.

He sighs. His mind was awash with thoughts on just who could be responsible for this. His first thought, of course, was the Lumber Consortium. But why would they plague their own town? What would they gain from it? Then again, what would anyone gain from this? What does it do to have Falcon's Hollow dying from plague? A prelude to something bigger, or an accident of nature?

Deep in thought, he heads to The Sitting Duck, if only to get away from the wheezing for a while. He finds the tavern in much the same state as it always is. In some ways the familiarity was welcoming, but despite being in town for years he always felt like he wasn't quite as welcome among the locals as he could be. The fact that he still thought of them as "locals" and himself otherwise could be a factor in that. He approaches the bar and sits down, ordering a drink. "Usual please. Any new words around town?"

[Benson]

@Dagall @ Jak'n'Japes

Indeed the cinnamon-y smell wafted throughout the inn, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere in juxtaposition to the rest of the town. Inside there were four other patrons chatting and having some pancakes. Dagall would receive some looks from the few other patrons but nothing more would come from it.

He would then be greeted from the sole server, a young half elf boy with the tip of his right ear torn but healed over. He smiled affably as he asked him what he would like. "Greetings sir, what can I get you?"

@Tarn @ The Sitting Duck

The rowdier tavern here in which a certain cleric was now in had a faint smell of tobacco.

The gruff bartender glanced at Tarn and raised a brow as he slid over an ale to other patron who sat two stools away.

"New words? Well, we have a foreigner, a fresh face sitting over there," He said as he tilted his head, gesturing to where Augustin sat as he poured Tarn his a pint of his regular and then tapped the counter for the coin.

[Amnestic]

Tarn retrieves a coin from the purse inside his leathers and tosses it to the bartender. "Oh? Yet another body for the meatgrinder is it?" He replies. "Or something more..." He adds as an afterthought to himself. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, he grabs up his ale and sits down at the table of the 'fresh face'. Whether it was the armour or just the way he held himself, Tarn had a good feeling.

"So, I hear you're new in town. Name's Tarn. Nice to meet you. Business or pleasure?"

[Starbin]

Dagall stared at the boy for a moment, smelling the cinnamon wafting through the air. "Bears been in th'clover?" At the inevitable blank look the boy would probably give, Dagall frowned, staring at the boy for a moment. "Have th'bears been in th'clover? Ye know, bears? Clover?" Dagall waited as patiently as he could ...

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Yub, that's what he asked!

[Benson]

@Dagall
The half elven boy's smile faltered as confusion could be visibly seen, he froze as if though his brain was trying to process these words. "Uh..uhm..I...I'm afraid I don't understand...I don't think so?"

[sirveaux]

Augustin ***** an eyebrow as he regards his new companion. The fellow had moxie, along with a certain charm, the cleric had to admit.

"Came for work, don't rightly know what will make me stay, if anything. Gus." Augustin returned the greeting.

Scanning his tablemate a bit closer, Gus continues. "You'll pardon my saying so, but you don't look like much of a lumberjack or sawmiller. What's your work around here, friend?"

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Seriously? I can't say "*****?" Ok, Gus raises an eyebrow, then

[Amnestic]

"I do odd jobs around town as required. Surprising amount of odd jobs need doing in a town like this." Tarn replies. "You don't look much like a lumberjack yourself. Or one of the sellswords they hire to guard their lumberjacks."

[sirveaux]

"Your eyes do you credit, sir. I am no lumberjack, and my armor is mostly for show. No, I am a priest of Desna. Mine is to wander, and serve the Starsong where I may. She has led my steps here, and will move me again as she has need. For now, I am here."

Gus peers over his tankard as he drinks. As he sets his drink back down, he continues. "So, you do 'odd jobs' here? Does that make you a local lad, or just a seasonal citizen?"

[Amnestic]

"Another religious one." Tarn thinks to himself. He tried not to think too bad of the people who did believe, but prayers had never helped his family before - how much did the gods really care? He wasn't terribly familiar with 'Desna' though.

"I came here...a few years ago now. Not sure I count as local for that, but I live, work and sleep here, so I suppose that makes me local enough." He replied, taking a drink. "I'm not too familiar with Desna. Did she tell you why she has lead you here?"

[Starbin]

Dagall grunted, more to himself than the boy. "Guessin' ye got no honey, then. Ah'll be takin' one order, then ... and any syrup ye got. And an ale ... dark, not that pi$$ water ye serve the halflings. Ah be needin' ta ...."

He trailed off, staring at the table in front of him for a long moment as tbe boy waited nervously. Glancing back up, he frowned. "What, are ye eaves' droppin boy? Get me food, lad!"

Shaking his head at the rudeness of strangers, Dagall leaned back in his chair and waited for his order, eyes sweeping across the room and the four other patrons. Thinking about the looks of the folks he had passed on the street, he murmured to himself, completing his earlier thoughts. "... get anuther job ..."

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Decided to change to dark orange, since the dim gray just lacked the contrast I wanted

[sirveaux]

Gus makes no attempt to stifle the chuckle Tarn's question brings.

"No, my Lady is rarely so direct. She merely points us to the road, it remains ours to walk. So here I am, walking."

Gus, finishing his tankard, motions for another round. As his order is filled, he casts a quizzical eye across the table.

"So tell me, 'Tarn the Local Enough,' what's this I've heard about carved trees hereabouts?"

[Amnestic]

"Carved trees? Only trees I've heard about are the usual lumber that our benevolent rulers are so focused on." Tarn's voice practically drips venom when he talks about the Lumber Consortium. "If you're looking for information in this town your number of sources are pretty few." Tarn drops his voice and leans in closer. "The Consortium would tell you nothing - if it's important and they know about it, then they've already claimed it."

"Rumour has it that the owner of the carnival - Quinn - has dealings with the fey of the forest. If you're after a specific tree, I can't think of anyone who'd know more than them." He leans back, taking a drink. "Other than that, the local herbalist Laurel obviously deals with plants. The source of her herbs might know something. Or Cirthana at the Temple of Iomedae might know something."

[sirveaux]

Gus sighs.

"Ah, the dear brothers and sisters of Iomedae. A noble fellowship, although a bit too formal for my tastes. I'm certain if they had any knowledge of this matter, some gallant knight or other would've gone a-questing ages ago. I'll speak with them, but I don't expect too much aid. Perhaps I'll seek out this 'Laurel' on my way to speak with Quinn."

Gus rises, and flips a coin on the table to cover the drinks. As he checks his gear, he nods towards Tarn.

"I thank you for the good company, and information, sir. May the Great Dreamer grant you soft roads by day, and the solace of dream by night."

Gus turns toward the door.

[Amnestic]

Tarn watched Gus begin to leave. He had a distinct feeling that whatever it was Tarn was after - a cure or the destruction of the Consortium - this Gus person would play a part. "Ah, hold on." Tarn says, jumping up. "You've got no chance seeing Laurel during the day. The queue out her door is stretching all the way down the street. You're better off meeting Quinn first. I've done work for Laurel before though, I can get in to see her while you meet Quinn, if you want."

[sirveaux]

Gus turned in response to Tarn. Light dances in his eyes as he replies.

"Fair enough. You go speak with Ms. Laurel, and I'll go to this 'Quinn's' carnival to get some information... and maybe a candy apple. I'll see you back here at evenfall."

Gus nods, and turns back to the door. He strolls out, and through the village toward the carnival.

[Benson]

@Dagall in Jak'n'Japes

The half elf boy nervously nodded his head. "Right away sir." He said quickly and rushed over to the kitchen.

"Oi..!..You 'ad betta' calm yer nipples down...Calathes is a good boy, don't go givin' him a hard time..if ya wanted honey ya should say for from 'tha start rather than your nonsense," One of the other patrons who overheard the exchange snorted and drank from his mead, looking at Dagall.
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@Tarn in The Sitting Duck

"Sending him off to see Quinn? Let's hope the foreigner doesn't get into trouble," A passing bar wench commented as she gestured if Tarn wanted a refill on his drink.
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@Gus Strutting Through Town

The carnival grounds would in the direction of area F8 on the map provided in the first post. As he walked along that dusty dirt road, he would pass the church (F11) where some thugs out front were harassing a clergywoman in vestments of red and silver who seemed to be cleaning up what appeared to vandalism on one of the walls. A few citizens watched and stayed away in fear of getting involved and dealing with the consequences of interfering in the affairs of one of the many gangs in Falcon's Hollow.

"Hahah....that's right bi*** clean up that mess," One of the them called down to her. a group of three stood behind her too close for comfort.

"Ooop oop..looks like..." One then kicked over her bucket of water. "She'll have to get some new bucket of wata' hahah." More mocking laughter left the mouths of these thugs.

[ptdapen]

Catrin buzzes about Roots and Remedies, trying to help even though she knows it is to no avail. "Laurel?! Din't you say that ya found some adventurers to help us?! Where are they?!" She tries to calm herself for the sake of the sick. I just don't know how they got.

[Benson]

The woman in question shot Catrin a stern look as she finished up transaction for some soothing root teas to a customer. Laurel was a thin Vudrani middle aged woman with her dark brown hair (that was braided into many thin braids) pulled back in a taut pony tail. She wore a pair of severe looking glasses.

"Calm your nips down girl, firstly I said no such thing. I sent out a call for adventurers or those just as foolishly brave to help but after that, its beyond my control. Now stop being useless and hand me that vial behind you with the brown liquid." She said sternly. Naturally, Laurel was quite stressed out, everyone was coming to her for help but there was only so much she could do.

[Amnestic]

"Trouble? I'm practically counting on it." Tarn replied with a wink and a smirk. He downed the rest of his drink - ignoring the rush of alcohol in his system and tossed a coin to the wench as he walked out the door.

The journey to Roots and Remedies was a short one and the scene hadn't changed much from how he left it - not surprising considering he'd barely been gone a few moments. Whistling a jaunty tune and with a spring in his step he strolled up to the front door and squeezed past those in his way to get inside the shop with not a care as to any objections that they might have made. "Laurel, a pleasure as always. Do you have a moment to talk?" His smile, his eyes briefly darting to the other lady in the room. He was sure he'd seen her before somewhere, but he couldn't place her.

OOC:

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If that girl at the temple being harassed is Elena then Tarn is gonna start cracking heads

[sirveaux]

Gus takes note of the commotion, and steps toward the woman, keeping the three ruffians within eyeshot.

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Sense Motive check (if appropriate) to see if I can tell if these hooligans are after anything specifc - (1d20+9)[13]

Pretending not to notice the thugs, Gus approaches the woman, and kneels to pick up her bucket. Placing it in his left hand, he rises and offers her his right.

"Ah, my lady, it seems as though your bucket has spilt. Oh well, accidents will happen. Care to accompany me to refill?"

[sirveaux]

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Also, Knowledge(Religion) to see if I recognize the vestments, as well as my familiarity with her church
(1d20+5)[19]
I know it's probably Iomedae, but just trying to make sure I play fair

[ptdapen]

Catrin quickly grabs the vial and hands to Laurel. "I'm sorry, I just... I don't know. Stress is getting to me," she says, spotting the newcomer just after. She doesn't quite remember him waiting in the line but she doesn't have time to care. I hope whatever he needs is important.

[Benson]

@Roots and Remedies

As Tarn totally cut in front of everyone who were still waiting in the long line, he would be on the receiving end of complaints.

"Hey you can't just cut like that!" One woman yelled at him angrily, holding the hand of her sick looking child.

Laurel raised a brow and glanced up at from her horn rimmed glasses. "A moment? Does it look like I have a moment?" Her stressed voice laced with sarcasm. She then utters a small thanks to Catrin and pours the liquid into another vial which held something else in it as the liquid turned into a warm looking yellow. She then explained to the next customer in line to rub this like a lotion onto their ill ones to keep down the fever symptons. It would absorb into the body and all that what not.

"Make it quick Tarn," She said as she accepted the copper bits from her customer as the next person in line took their turn.
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Gus would indeed recognize the vestments to be of Iomedae as for the motives of the hooligans, they seem to Gus as causing trouble for the sake of trouble and because perhaps they believe because they can. As for the woman, or cleric of the church rather, she looked to be holding back tears. She slowly looked at Gus and forced a small tiny smile and nodded her head just a smidge. "I..y-yes...I would appreciate that...thank you.."

'Hey you...! Bugger off, she 'as got to learn 'ta do things herself eh," One of the hooligans grabbed Gus' shoulder with a crooked smirk.

[sirveaux]

Gus drops his bucket, and pulls away from the thug. He touches his hip with a "Bit of Luck" and begins gesturing wildly and intoning deeply and eerily in Celestial.

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Bluff check to make thugs think I'm casting a powerful spell (rolling twice, using highest from bit of luck) -
(1d20+1)[5]
(1d20+1)[15]

Celestial:

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"Sister, you speak Celestial, do you not? Tell them that I am casting a very dangerous and powerful spell, and that they should run away now... Also, do you know if they sell candy apples at the carnival?"

[Amnestic]

Tarn completely ignores any objections to him cutting as if they were white noise. They didn't concern him - besides, he wasn't really cutting in line. Judging by Laurel's tone, she probably wasn't much in the mood for his usual flirty self. "Met a holy-man today." He began as he paced around the store. "Heh. In this town. I know. He said he was looking for some...carved trees, of some sort. Being as you're the expert on all things plant-related in this town, I thought to ask you if you'd heard of anything like that." He paused for a moment. "Sweeten the deal." He told himself.

"And then I thought that I remember you asking about Adventurers to help you out recently. Why not attempt to kill two birds with one stone? I convince this holy-man to help you out with your problem, he finds his weird tree things which solves his problem, and everyone is happy."

"Well, as happy as can be expected in Falcon's Hollow, anyway."

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Social rolls if they're required:
Diplomacy: (1d20+4)[16]
Bluff: (1d20+4)[11]

[Starbin]

"Oi..!..You 'ad betta' calm yer nipples down...Calathes is a good boy, don't go givin' him a hard time..if ya wanted honey ya should say for from 'tha start rather than your nonsense."

Dagall paused for a moment, his eyes turning to look at the patron that spoke to him so. He replied loudly, "Sorry, what concern are me nipples t'ye? Keep t'yer plate and let me do me own orderin' ..."

The rudeness of some people never ceased to amaze the dwarf ...

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