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  1. - Top - End - #1
    Bugbear in the Playground
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    Default Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    DELVE INTO DARKNESS,
    BRING THE TRUTH TO LIGHT

    In Wheloon, a city known for its vibrant green slate roofs, a new temple to Mystra is in the final stages of construction. But something rings false among the heavenly spheres -- or at least among those who mouth the pieties of Mystra while plotting magical mayhem behind closed temple doors.

    And that's just the beginning. . . .



    The village of Hultail, Eastern Cormyr

    Early Summer, 1375 DR

    Many miles from Wheloon, the sleepy village of Hultail sits on the eastern shores of the Wyvernwater. Residents primarily spend their hours as fisherfolk on the placid lake, farming nearby, or catering to the trade that follows the roaring Thunderflow down from the Dales through the treacherous Thunder Peaks. Some few forage or log the fringes of the foreboding Hullack Forest to the north.

    Danger and suspicion has gripped the kingdom of Cormyr of late, with marauding armies of goblins and orcs sweeping down from the mountains and through the western part of the kingdom, driven on by a nigh-unstoppable dragon of immense power. Only through King Azoun's sacrifice of his own life in battle was the horde stopped and the dragon destroyed, leaving a kingdom shattered. Bandits haunt the roads while self-serving nobles squabble for power and the king's infant son sits on the throne. Princess Alusair, the Steel Princess, rules as regent, with the assistance of the Dowager Queen Filfaeril. Through force of will and force of arms they hold the kingdom together for now, but only just....

    A group of strangers have arrived in Hultail today. Brought to the village for their own reasons, chance brings them together as they look around at the sleepy town and survey their options in the late afternoon sun. To one side, surrounded by stately oak trees, is a fine inn, a large two-storey establishment with stables and outbuildings. A sign hanging outside names it as the Sylvan Glade Inn. Nearby a single-storey plain stone building seems to offer some sort of administrative function - bureaucrats, the watch, or both. Other than that there's the usual village homes, a few small shops and the local temple to Chauntea (if the tiny building can even be called a temple).

    Spoiler
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    The adventure begins! Time for you to describe your characters as they each arrive, introduce yourselves, and you can have some interactions/ dialogue if you wish (there'll be plenty of time for inter-party dialogue as we progress). I'm away/ busy until the weekend, then I will move us all forward...

    A note on the hooks:
    • If you chose hook #1 investigate the deaths and/ or Cyrus Fletchers death, it's up to you how you proceed.
    • Hook #2 Hired by the Brass Wheel Company to investigate thefts. The company is based out of town but the contract will be paid on success at the town hall. You have been told that a former caravan guard named Durmain now works at the Sylvan Glade Inn and may be able to shed some light on the occurances.
    • Hook #3 You'll obviously want to go to the temple at some stage to talk to the priest.
      The hooks themselves are not important to the overall campaign so feel free to embellish/ ad hoc as you wish or ask me if you want more details.



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    Ogre in the Playground
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    Savin walked into Hultail, not knowing or caring for the name of the road. He was sweaty and tired that matched his foul mood.
    "10 men sought to rob me? No honor these thieves have." he said to himself as he spat in disgust. The bandits were bold to try and waylay someone so close to the city but they figured with 1 against 10, he would be easy pickings. Knocking one of the men down before they could react, he moved with speed that bordered on the supernatural. While not one to run from a fight, he also knew that he had no chance of winning and he was not about to loose his belonging to that pack of hyenas. His ancestors would have been proud at the speed and distance he covered.
    Walking into town, he walked up to the gate and nodded to the guardsmen manning it.
    "Man, where in your city do you recommend I go where I can bath and bed down for the night? Somewhere with good food, good drink and a bit of music? I am weary from travelling this road and could use a good respite." as the towering northerner loomed over the Hultail guards, his hair wild from many days out wilderness travel and his armor and clothes stained with blood and mud.
    Although he didn't know it, his tone and speech were a bit rougher than what the guards were used to. If he had noticed, he would not have cared and would have thought them soft, city men that they were.
    As the man directed him to the Sylvan Glade Inn. As Savin left with the directions he had been given, he did not hear the guard snicker and crack wise about having sent the savage looking northerner in the wrong direction around the small town.
    After a longer time than should have been necessary, Savin finds the inn, disgusted that the guard was probably drunk at his post for giving such terrible directions. Stepping inside, ducking his head as he goes, he nods to the barmaid as he sets himself in the first available chair as it protests audibly.
    "Something to wash the dirt from my throat and something hot to it, miss, if you don't mind." he bellows to her before she can make her way to him.
    Content for the moment, he looks around the small inn to see who else is here.
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    Anthony Resby

    It took five full days to reach Hultail, one of them solely becase the route from Suzail runs quite zig and then zag. Not much could be done about it other than getting a boat in Immersea, which would probably mean renting a boat, and Anthony was not in such a hurry. In fact, in no particular hurry at all. The summer days were nice and sunny. Anthony had enough camping gear to sleep where he was at day's end - luckily, there was no rain, otherwise it would have been less comfortable. On his way through Wheloon Anthony spent half an hour looking how the construction of new temple to Mystra is going, attempted to chat with the builders (who claimed not to know anything and told their foreman went to lunch), had a lunch too and went off without further waiting for the foreman. Hopefully they did not have any mail for Junirill or Hultail - indeed, why would they?

    Near the village, he overtook what seemed to be a four-man adventuring band. Typical size. Typical types. He sighed. Adventurers.

    First thing to do in Hultail was to visit the inn and ask for Elebril. Elebril was there. Anthony handed him the packet, was told to wait, ordered food, lodging and bathing for both him and the horse (cheap rates prefferred, please nothing fancy) and sat to dine while Elebril reads papers upstairs.

    Then the adventurers came.

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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    Fintan

    This is what I'm reduced to; sellsword to a bunch of fluffed-up tradesmen.

    Fintan fought hard to keep the irritation from reaching his expression.

    He had to be in character. Fintan of Arabel, simple down-on-his-luck sellsword looking for a Cormyrian adventurer's license.

    Taking a calming breath, he enters the Inn. Seating the common room, he awaits this Durmain person, hoping he will be a useful representative.
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    Krag

    The dwarf walked into town, his boots crunching on the roadway as he walked faster than many of the other folks on the roads. Certainly faster than most dwarves move! The thud of the boots was matched by the clunk of the staff on the road as he walked looking about with un-dwarf like curiosity. It had taken 5 long days of walking to reach Hultail where there had been rumours of killing and murders.


    Reaching the centre of the small village he spied the small temple of Chauntea but though with an element of a sigh An ale, and a warm fire and meal will sort me out first. Temple in morning. Happy with his decision he strode towards the pleasant sounding Sylvan Glade Inn and pushed into the tap room, a smile on his bearded face, as he approached the bar. A warm meal. An ale and a bed for the night please.." As he speaks he looks about the rest of the tap room.
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    Fintan

    Fintan takes care to hide his ancestral sword, knowing the average dust-ridden mercenary would not wield such a fine blade. Instead he slings a crude morningstar onto his belt and keeps his sword under wraps.

    Before summoning a serving maid, he summons up the gifts granted him by the ghost of his martyred matriarch, making his very appearance and countenance more appealing.

    Spoiler: Beguiling Influence
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    You can invoke this ability to beguile and bewitch your foes. You gain a +6 bonus on Bluff, Diplomacy, and Intimidate checks for a period of 24 hours.


    "Pray lass, can you tell me if a man known as Durmain is present today?" He orders a simple meal, adding a silver to the cost as a gratuity.

    Spoiler: Diplomacy, cuz I love rolling 1s
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    (1d20+9)[23]


    He sits back awaiting the answer, his posture nonthreatening, welcoming even. He looks around the room, noting the presence of large and brash Northerner, and a balding dwarf among others.
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    Temiryl

    Temiryl Alutheil stepped off the stage coach, murmuring a quiet thanks to the driver as she shouldered her pack and once again adjusted the sword at her hip. The young elf lass watched as the coach sped off down the road, the wheels of the coach and hooves of the horses kicking up clouds of dust that hung in the warm summer air as it head back down the road towards the Thunder Way.

    She turned to survey the quiet village that her parents and uncle had agreed would be her home for her year-long sabbatical. Well... it's quaint, she eventually decided, And presentable. Most importantly, it's not Evermeet.

    Temiryl glanced at the large building that the sign proclaimed to be the Slyvan Glade Inn. She briefly considered the idea of stopping for a refreshing drink, but decided instead that presenting herself to her warden straight away would be for the best. Fidgeting in the unfamiliar armour her parents insisted she wore, and the hood of cloak up despite the warmth, she makes her way to the sturdy smaller building that is most likely the watch house.

    She raps tentatively on the door and calls out a greeting in Elven before remembering herself and switching to Common.

    "Um, hello? I... uh, I'm wondering if you can please help me? I'm looking for Cyrus Fletcher, captain of the militia," she calls through the door. "My name is Temiryl Aluthiel; he's expecting me." She pauses briefly to take a breath before continuing. "I'm the niece of his friend Elluin Briarose."

    Temiryl nervously plays with her straight dark hair as she waits for a reply, her fingers unconsciously practicing arcane gestures...


    => DM ( unless anyone else heads to the same building and interacts with Temiryl.)
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    When the serving girl eventually shows up with his drink, Savin asks her "Thanks, miss. I don't suppose you know a fellow by the name of Durmain or where I can find him?"
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    The common room at the inn is bright and airy, the afternoon sun shining through the surrounding oak trees and casting dappled shadows through the large windows. A half-dozen townsfolk occupy the room, sitting in small groups enjoying a quiet drink and what looks like reasonably appetizing fare.

    A hulking northener enters the room, looking quite out-of-place in the village environment. He's not Uthgardt - from further afield, the Cold Lands far to the northeast perhaps. Well-worn leather armour covers his torso and an array of weaponry drips from his person. With no regard for etiquette or manners he brashly (although not unkindly) orders from the barmaid and seats himself in the centre of the room, surveying the scene.

    Next there is the sound outside of a rider approaching. After a muffled exchange with the stable boy another man enters. This one also wears leathers, tidy but well-worn. Despite his threadbare attire he carries himself with the comportment one might expect from a noble or a gallant knight. After a quick exchange of words with a previously unnoticed patron the man sits and orders a simple meal. The star-symbol of Mystra hangs on a chain around his neck

    Another stranger enters, fine leathers and a fine face eliciting a shy smile from the barmaid as she guides him to a table of his own, careful not to get too close to the sword and morningstar that hang from his weapon belt. This man is no sooner seated than he is followed by a balding dwarf striding in. Robes and a walking staff mark him as being of a scholarly bent even if his muscular frame hints at something further. He too sits himself and awaits his meal.

    The townsfolk take note of the four strangers but soon turn back to their own conversations. Hultail may be small, but it is on a relatively well-travelled trade way and armed strangers are not unusual, certainly not these days.

    .................................................. ....
    meanwhile...100 yards away

    The door to the building opens and Temiryl is face-to-face with a young militiaman. He looks a little taken aback and his eyes widen as he sees her obviously elven features under her green hood. "Ah...Cyrus...ah....Miss, I'm afraid that he...ah...." the man stammers a response before regaining his composure. "I'm very sorry but Mr Fletcher is recently deceased. If it's the captain you're after, the new captain that is, Ghini Eagleye's the one you'll want to speak to. She's out doing her rounds right now but she'll be back here tomorrow morning. The Sylvan Glade over there is a good establishment. They'll be able to fix you up for the night. I'm very sorry".

    .................................................. .....
    back at the Sylvan Glade Inn

    The maid smiles as Fintan summons her over. "Durmain?" she responds to his question and nods toward the barman. "That's him there, the barman." The barman sports large sideburns and a stubbled jaw. Although he's absent-mindedly polishing glassware you can see from the crisscross of scars on his forearms that he's seen a few fights in his days. The barmaid takes the coin and continues on, delivering the drink to the tall Damaran. At his questioning she blurts out "Durmain again? Why does everyone want Durmain today? That's him right there." she points toward the barman.

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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    "I'm not surprised that others are looking for him, I suppose." says the tall northerner as he rubs his jaw a bit. Standing and grabbing his drink he says "Thanks, miss." as he walks over to the bar. Once there he takes a drink and puts it on the bar in front of Durmain. "I am Savin Ro Tukal, and have traveled to this town as I have heard that you have some information regarding the thefts to the Brass Wheel Company. Is that true?" in a matter of fact way as he sits at one of the seats at the bar. He looks around briefly to see if the conversation is attracting the attention of any others in the room before returning his attention to Durmain.
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    Temiryl

    "Dead?" Temiryl recoils in shock at the news, colour draining from her face. "I... But... Why? How?"

    If the young militiaman replies, it is lost to Temiryl as her mind reels with the news. She mumbles her thanks, and in somewhat of a daze, makes her way to the Sylvan Glade Inn.

    Temiryl's thoughts race as she finds her way to a table. What will I do now? I was supposed to stay with Cyrus. If I write to my parents, I may never be allowed to leave Evermeet again. If I stay, what can I do? What would my Uncle do? Investigate? Get revenge, or justice?

    Temiryl looks up with a start, jolted out of her introspection when the serving girl approaches.

    "Yes? Oh, um, a room. I... I'll need a room. And food; food is a good idea. And a drink - something strong, please."
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    Krag looks about. Eyes narrowing slightly, a hand gently smoothing his long plaited beard. Then seeing the star of Mystara around the throat of the rider he ambles across and coughs. Evening traveller. Mind some company? I see you wear Mystara's sign about you. I'm a seeker of words and scrolls. A Carmendine. You wouldn't have any scrolls of knowledge?
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    Anthony's attention is not directed at anything specific, except maybe the food, though he is more or less aware of the surroundings, raising his eyes from the bowl while chewing whatever and scanning the area without much interest. He does manifest interest when a dwarf comes and addresses him personally.

    "Of course, please be seated, though I'm aftaid if you are looking for more than just a like-minded company, there is not much I can help you this moment. Anthony Resby, a postman of our fine order, it seems." - the man paused for a couple of seconds, as if thinking about something - "You probably want to visit Suzail, if you are looking for already written knowledge. There is quite a library in the temple of Oghma. Could spend a year there and still not have it half-read."

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    Fintan

    Not wanting to appear either too eager or too aloof, Fintan waits for the large Northerner to finish with the barkeep before introducing himself.

    As politely as possible he heads to the bar and introduces himself.

    "Greetings, Master Durmain," he says with a small bow that befits his station. "I hear the Brass Wheel Company is seeking... new employees."

    It occurred to Fintan that broadcasting the company's woes aloud would not endear him with Durmain.
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    Savin walks to the bar and addresses the bartender, posing his enquiry. The burly man's brow furrows at the mention of the Brass Wheel "Eh...I already told them...I didn't do it. You ain't gonna pin it on me. I'm happy here, well other than the attacks of course. Just leave me be, I don't want any trouble".

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    Time for some more Diplomacy etc rolls if Savin or Fintan want to try and get anything out of this guy

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    Savin tries to put on his best face as he talks to the bar tender.
    "Look, friend, I am not seeking to lay blame on you. Nothing of the sort. Maybe I had misheard but I thought you could put us in contact with their people. I can't speak for this gentleman" he says with a nod to Fintan "but all I seek is some information so I can find a job to point some coin in my pocket. I am a traveler, obviously not from around here, but traveling takes gold. I'm sure you understand."

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    Diplomacy
    (1d20-2)[7]

    Sense Motive
    (1d20+5)[9]
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    Fintan

    Indeed, my friend here speaks true," Fintan says, calm reassurance flowing from his words.

    In fact we may be able to resolve your problem while affording our continued pursuit of livelyhood."

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    1d20+9[/roll] Oops. Please see OOC
    Last edited by redzimmer; 2014-12-04 at 03:03 PM.
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    Quote Originally Posted by u-b View Post
    Anthony's attention is not directed at anything specific, except maybe the food, though he is more or less aware of the surroundings, raising his eyes from the bowl while chewing whatever and scanning the area without much interest. He does manifest interest when a dwarf comes and addresses him personally.

    "Of course, please be seated, though I'm aftaid if you are looking for more than just a like-minded company, there is not much I can help you this moment. Anthony Resby, a postman of our fine order, it seems." - the man paused for a couple of seconds, as if thinking about something - "You probably want to visit Suzail, if you are looking for already written knowledge. There is quite a library in the temple of Oghma. Could spend a year there and still not have it half-read."
    Krag drops into the seat, the chair creaking under the weight of the sturdy dwarf. I don't think I'll find lost scrolls in a library? 100 I need to to become a Carmendine Master.

    What brings you here?
    As he speaks he watches the folk at the bar curiously. A rum bunch all looking for the bar keep. Do you know what's amiss?
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    Anthony thinks for a moment. - "Well, sure, not many lost scrolls in the library. They are usually rather good with record-keeping, cataloguing and such." - He thinks some more but does not come up with a good reason why he, or, for that matter, anyone in the village, could have any lost scrolls with them, as opposed to, say, bought or scribed scrolls. The closest thing he could think of would be found scrolls... - "You mean, the scrolls like from Old Empires? They have some."

    "I'm on duty here. Getting things moving, literally. Do you think something is amiss?" - Anthony takes a quick look around trying to see what that might be.

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    If it seems Anthony's speech is too simple and/or not exactly correct, it's because my speech is too simple and/or not exactly correct. Never had a formal education in English. Please assume he uses more rare words and determinedly expressive locutions or something.

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    The barman, Durmain, looks suspiciously at the tall foreigner with the strange accent, but warms at Fintan's words and familiar mannerisms.

    "Look, I'll tell you what I know, okay? I was one of three guards for a merchant named Erthorn carrying two wagonloads of goods through here. He's a rich one, that Erthorn. Was a rich one. In addition to the goods that I knew about, there was a fat purse filled with coin that he never mentioned.

    When the wagons reached Hultail, he decided he'd rather sleep in the fields than under this fine roof. Cheap fool. To this day I still don't know what he was thinking. We'd heard about the "disappearances" around town of course, but he thought he knew better than everyone else.

    That night it started to rain something fierce. The other two guards and I took turns watching for trouble all night, for all the good it did. Between the wet, the dark, and the falling rain it was hard to see more than about thirty feet. I had the last watch that night, and when Ruburn, the other guard, woke me up looking like a drowned rat, I wanted to kill that stupid fat merchant. Still, it wasn't all bad, he brought me some drink to warm me up while I watched. He curled up to sleep and I sat down and tried to keep an eye on the camp as best I could.

    I'm not sure exactly what happened then, but somehow, I fell asleep, and didn't wake up 'till dawn. By then, I was soaking wet and covered with mud, and poor Ruburn was nowhere to be seen. But even worse than that, one whole wagonload of goods was gone. Just gone. And there was no way we were tracking anything through that rain.

    As soon as I woke up Erthorn, he started shouting about his missing purse. The fool. He started yelling at me, demanding to know what I had done with the money and the goods. I protested of course, not that it did any good. To make a long story short, he left town with the other guard, and they haven't been back since. And if I never see him again, it'll be too soon.

    Anyway, apparently Erthorn's employer, the Brass Wheel, has a reward waiting at the town hall for anyone who can uncover exactly what happened and bring the culprit to face justice."

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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    Fintan

    Laying three gold on the counter offers another warm smile.

    "You are a victim of bad luck, my good fellow. But I assure you, I will get to the bottom of this. I can tell just by your look you're a veteran of the Goblin Wars. No Hero like yourself should ever have to face such accusations!"

    Really getting into his character now, he presses on.

    "By Torm, Tyr and King Azoun I swear I shall avenge you!"

    He almost regrets overdoing it, but if he is to establish a reputation, you need some famous words that are easy for any nearby troubadour to pass on.

    Fintan leaves and heads for the town hall.
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    From his seat Krag shouts across at the vow making northman. A mystery over there or just theft? Is there s reward involved, I need some coin to continue my pilgrimage.
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    Fintan

    Fintan pauses when the dwarf speaks. He would probably need some help dealing with this theft issue, so he puts off his departure for the moment.

    "Aye, there's an injustice to be addressed. Surely blessed brother, you would accompany me?"

    He looks at the big man from the bar who spoke with Durmain.

    "Us? You look like a man who can handle himself."
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    Savin growls deep in his throat for a moment as Fintan walks out the door, then looks at Durmain.
    "Thanks for the help." as he walks briskly out the door, but not before a dwarf catches up to his quarry.
    As he walks up the shorter man addresses him, stopping the northman.
    Listening, he nods "Yes, justice is needed in this case but I expect to be fairly compensated for my time, buddy. Unless you plan on paying me out of your own pocket, I think we should continue our conversation on the way to town hall. What do you... or the both of you say?" he says, including the dwarf. His experiences with dwarves has always been positive in the past, which my leave him a little bit more forthcoming than normal.
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    Anthony made a mental note to get more information about the "disappearances", if he will have the time, and maybe about the theft, though the later was of marginal interest. It's not exactly business of the order, dealing with thieves. Meanwhile, the people, including the dwarf, were discussing thefts and rewards, which meant Anthony could continue with his meal and idly looking around. And now he've seen her again. He always felt that "girl" is a strange word to refer to someone who is older then his deceased grandmother, but somehow female elves managed to look, and act, more like human girls, than human crones, so strange as it is, the word seemed nonetheless in some sense approppriate.

    Finishing with the meal quickly, Anthony gets off his table and relocates to the table with the elven girl.

    "Excuse me. Has something upset you?"
    Last edited by u-b; 2014-12-07 at 02:53 AM.

  26. - Top - End - #26
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    Krag nodded in a friendly manner to Antony, waving to the barmaid to bring the messenger a mug of ale and leaving a couple of coppers. Lady bless you traveller. he says by way if parting.

    Ambling over to Fintan and the big Northman. I'm Krag Iron fist of the Snowflake Holds. I will help right wrongs. If I am lucky and Deneir's fortune favours me I may scrolls of providence and wonder.
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    Still feeling somewhat in a daze, Temiryl passes the serving girl a gold coin to cover the cost of the meal, drink, and a night's lodgings.

    I hope that it is enough, she muses to herself. Temiryl listens to the talk of the barman and the other Inn patrons. And there's another thing to worry about - stay or go, I'll need the money to support either decision.

    She lets out a worried sigh and takes a sip of drink, immediately coughing and spluttering as the fiery human liquor burns its way down her throat. How can anyone drink this?

    She is considering whether or not a second sip is a good idea when the young man sits down at her table. One of the local militia, or perhaps a caravan guard? she wonders to herself.

    "Oh, um, yes... err, sort of," Temiryl answers, clearly flustered. "I've just received a bit of shocking news, and now I'm feeling a little bit lost about what to do next," she elaborates somewhat meekly. She takes an absent-minded sip of her drink, coughing only a little this time, the alcohol warming her. Maybe she could get used to this after all...
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    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    Anthony has noticed the kind of drink the girl was having and her reaction to it. He also noticed that the girl's outfit did not seem to be made according to local fashions. And that the girl seemed a bit shy.

    "You seem to be not from around here. I assure you, whatever thieving and disappearing is goin on, the people here are generally helpful and the situation will be eventually deat with. Meanwhile, if you require any assistance, please don't hesitate to ask."

  29. - Top - End - #29
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    "Oh, it's not thieving or disappearances that have upset me, the young elf lady responds. "That is, I don't mean that theft and disappearing people aren't upsetting, it's just that they aren't what have me specifically feeling upset." She flushes with embarrassment, the bronze skin of her cheeks deepening in colour.

    "I've really made rather a mess of explaining, haven't I? Thank you for your kind words, and let me start again." She gazes directly at the young man, where he will notice that her eyes have neither pupils nor whites - they are solid orbs of emerald green. "My name is Temiryl Alautheil. I arrived in Hultail today for the start of what was supposed to be a year-long sabbatical from my studies. Only now I've learned that the man I was supposed to be staying with, the local militia captain Cyrus Fletcher, is dead. Other than meeting with the captain tomorrow - the new captain, that is - to find out what happened to Mr Fletcher... I have no idea what I'm going to do next!"
    Last edited by Dexam; 2014-12-08 at 03:20 AM.
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    Default Re: Ghostfoot's Tearing of the Weave IC

    "Cyrus is what?!..." - the man stares at the elf for a second, blinks - "Excuse me, I will be back in a moment." - he stands up from the table and hurries upstairs; you can hear him skiping three steps at a time and knocking at a door, loudly - "Elebril! Just what is going on in here!? Well, right, I know that your concearns are outside, but you should have told me..." - the door opens, then closes, cutting off the rest of the discussion.

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    Here I expect the DM to take the role of Elebril, a half-elven shooting star ranger, to whom Anthony has delivered the package twenty minutes ago, and provide some info from said ranger's perspective (technically, not his business, I guess, but still he should have been here for at least two days waiting for the delivery) and an update on Anthony's orders (probably something not conflicting with dealing with Cyrus's death).
    Last edited by u-b; 2014-12-08 at 03:49 AM.

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