[D&D5e] The Flames of Turmoil - IC

[Wooloo]

The Flames of Turmoil

South of the harrowing peaks of Ral’ahark and east of the shimmering sea of Nylaria, lies the old fortress city of Kwondo, embedded in the sands of the Astrassos Plains, a desert land of perils and wonders.

As you arrive into Kwondo, the dry desert air pierces your face like a flurry of needles. Navigating the sand-filled streets, you’re nearly stomped by a cargo-hauling rhinoceros. You try to remain calm and carry on peacefully while a merchant shouts obscenities in the local slang at you.

Most houses and constructions are made of crude limestone and built slightly below street level, as to offer refuge from the scorching sun. Everything in the city is coated with a thin veil of sand that gets in your eyes as much as inside your boots. Quickly, you find your destination: the quiet and small tavern of the Salty Plum.

Upon entering the tavern, it becomes obvious to you that this city is a dangerous place. Sketchy individuals trade suspicious wares in hushed tones. Gamblers seem to hold more daggers than cards and a foggy mist of exotic smokes float from several strange pipes with the scent of a fight about to erupt.

You might begin to miss the peaceful ports of Welaha or the soothing songs in the air of the enchanted elven city of Elastar, but dangerous towns offer gold in adventures, and that’s what brings you here.

You’re supposed to meet your contact in this tavern, a young and ambitious trader of magic items called Bowan Fidart. He waits for you with a crooked smile and a pot of scar-leaf tea, sitting in a large booth at the far corner of the tavern.

Bowan Fidart:

"Well met, my friends! May I offer you tea? Or perhaps a bowl of gruel? Miss Waylla!” He hails one of the tavern workers, while still talking to you. “How was your travel? I’m glad to see you arrived safely.”

Bowan wears a dark green cloak over studded leather armor. You can’t see any weapons on him, but you are positive he is not unarmed.

[Dimers]

"Tea. Chilled, if they have it that way here," says an ash-skinned young dwarf man as he finishes brushing sand and dust off his barren scalp. "This whole town is a dusty mess, Mister Fidart. Can scarcely imagine why you'd want to meet here. I love Nature, but I don't want her scouring my eyeballs every day." The dwarf drapes his cloak over the back of a chair and sits down. "Travel was alright. How've you been?" He scans the tavern's common room as he takes in Bowan's answer.

Spoiler: Perception

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(d20+4)[18]

[Archemist]

Bowan Fidart:

"Well met, my friends! May I offer you tea? Or perhaps a bowl of gruel? Miss Waylla!” He hails one of the tavern workers, while still talking to you. “How was your travel? I’m glad to see you arrived safely.”

Robert's armor jingles faintly as he has a seat, in a spot where he can keep an eye on the door. "'Arrived safely' is an occasion always worth marking, sure. Never a given. So, yes, cardamom tea if they have it."

Robert's grey eyes scan the rest of the crew assembling around and he gestures, saying, "Anyhow, I suppose you brought this motley group here to help with some future safe arrivals, eh? I'm curious where we're headed. Alix always talked of the mysteries of the Astrassos dunes but we... didn't have a chance to make it out this way."

Spoiler: Perception

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(1d20-1)[14] (woohoo negative modifier on the first roll of the campaign!)

[Zergrinch]

"Zophar Ghehadur," the large dragonborn offers by way of introduction, speaking Common in an accent that is atypical of the local populace. "We made good time considering. I take my tea black," he adds, brushing the thin accumulation of dust that had started to lightly coat his sparkling adamantine armor. The Paladin scans the environment, not liking it in the slightest, but confident that he can trounce any man here easily.

===
Perception: (1d20+7)[14]
Future Insight check on Bowan - how honest is he? (1d20+7)[19]
Action: Divine Sense. Until the end of your next turn, you can sense anything affected by the hallow spell or know the location of any celestial, fiend, undead within 60 ft. that is not behind total cover. You can use this feature 4 times per long rest.

[Wooloo]

A young woman wearing the tavern aprons approaches the tables and places a small bowl in the middle of the table containing the name-sake treats of the tavern: salty plums.
“Those are complementary! enjoy.”

She serves the party in a kindly manner, in dire contrast to the general harshness of the city.
“Chilled tea for the dwarven gentleman”
“And.. Car-mom-domomdo-mo.. tea for you, sir” Into Robert’s cup she pours something that seems to be a boiled mixture of assorted herbs and roots. Obviously, she had no idea what cardamom was and tried to improvise, hoping Robert wouldn’t notice.
“And black tea for the dragon, sir. Here you are.”

While the tavern worker serves the group, the young man, Bowan, takes a long look at Robert.
“We’ve met before! Do you remember me? It was many years ago.. In the alchemists guild centennial jubilations, back in Welaha. You were under the employment of Lord Bluestone and I.. Well, I was a young boy in my alchemy training. I was the one who tripped over the enchanted incense burner and set the large banner aflame! Look:”
He removes his gloves:
“I still have the scars.” Both his hands are severely scarred from burns.
“Magical burns never quite heal right, do they?”
Quickly, Bowan puts his gloves back on, as if embarrassed by the scars, or something else.

Bowan laughs and orders gruel and a fresh pot of scar-leaf tea. When the woman leaves, he points to one of the plums and makes it float towards his mouth, in a display of the cantrip Mage Hand.

“Aah! Delicious!! As I was saying, I’m hiring able hands for a dangerous caper. There was supposed to be five of you.. But I guess two of your companions are running late. You can fill them in when they arrive.” As he chomps down another salty treat, he adds “Through the mountain ridges south of the city, there’s the entrance to an old fortress carved into the rock. Deep inside the fortress, in the old throne room, you’ll find a clear crystal orb. Just bring it back to me and I’ll pay you a hundred gold coins, each. What do you say? I can step out if you need a moment to discuss privately.”

Spoiler: Rever

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Rever: When Bowan removed his gloves, he tried to hide it, but you saw it. He has a blue serpent tattoo circling his right wrist. This is the mark of the cult of Dendar, the night serpent. They are considered to be enemies of the ruling king. But this doesn’t cause you much concern because your original tribe, the Sarusara are also labeled enemies of the crown. King Zorlus is hard to get along with.

Spoiler: Zophar

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Zophar: The grey skinned dwarf in your group is Undead. This doesn’t surprise you. When you took this assignment, you were warned some of your party members would be unusual characters, but trustworthy.
About Bowan: He is transparently honest. You know for a fact that he has a good reputation in the capital as a trader of magic items. And like many merchants of high-end goods, any tarnish to his reputation would be bad for business.

[Zergrinch]

Zophar glances at the undead dwarf, admittedly a little put off and trying his best to suppress his impulse to whack the thing's head off. While true that not all undead have ill intentions, you just can't trust someone who lost their tether to life. Still, it is best to keep your friends close, and enemies closer. Not that the revenant could lay a hand on the paladin, of course.

Satisfied that the young merchant harbors no ill intentions, the dragonborn turns to him next. After taking a sip of tea, he asks, "What does the crystal orb do, and what makes this dangerous? Are we to forcibly liberate this item from its guardians in the fortress?"

[WhismurWanders]

Screech is shoved roughly through the doors of the tavern, and his squawking and jeering isn't likely to go unnoticed as he offers a few choice curses in Auran, directed towards the half-orcish hands which had pushed him on this trajectory. All because he had tried to communicate with a nearby hound and spooked the cart-driver's horse. The nerve. Nonetheless, he has arrived at his destination, and is eager to no longer be the center of attention. He ruffles himself once to gather himself before quickly hop-stepping towards the table. He recognized a group of adventurers meeting with an employer. It would seem drinks have already been ordered, but the bird wasn't currently thirsty. Without speaking or acknowledging the others, he grabs a chair with one hand, and hastily reaches for a handful of the dried fruits which were already on the table.

A question had been posed, one he had managed to catch the tail-end of. Guardians of a fortress? Screech wasn't above killing those who opposed nature or his Wonderful Lady, but he wasn't about to take part in a robbery either. He twists his head around awkwardly to get a measure of everyone sitting at the table, and offers a simple apology. A young boy's voice, someone who had been caught doing something he shouldn't, speaks in the Kenku's stead; "I'm sorry Mum," before he imitates a few ticks of a clock to excuse his tardiness. Then he reaches for more of the fruits, even though he hadn't even finished the first ones he had taken.

[Dimers]

Rever pulls his head back to look at the kenku with confusion, then leans forward with a short, squinting stare. Then he shrugs. Probably no weirder than me, he thinks.

[Archemist]

She serves the party in a kindly manner, in dire contrast to the general harshness of the city.
“And.. Car-mom-domomdo-mo.. tea for you, sir” Into Robert’s cup she pours something that seems to be a boiled mixture of assorted herbs and roots. Obviously, she had no idea what cardamom was and tried to improvise, hoping Robert wouldn’t notice.

While the tavern worker serves the group, the young man, Bowan, takes a long look at Robert.
“We’ve met before! Do you remember me? It was many years ago.. In the alchemists guild centennial jubilations, back in Welaha. You were under the employment of Lord Bluestone and I.. Well, I was a young boy in my alchemy training. I was the one who tripped over the enchanted incense burner and set the large banner aflame! Look:”
He removes his gloves:
“I still have the scars.” Both his hands are severely scarred from burns.
“Magical burns never quite heal right, do they?”

“Through the mountain ridges south of the city, there’s the entrance to an old fortress carved into the rock. Deep inside the fortress, in the old throne room, you’ll find a clear crystal orb. Just bring it back to me and I’ll pay you a hundred gold coins, each. What do you say? I can step out if you need a moment to discuss privately.”

Robert sips suspiciously at the tea, but smiles. Cinnamon Spice is tasty and close enough. He's more concerned at the lack of honesty from the waitstaff, though.

To Bowan, he replies, "I remember that day - you gave us all quite a scare. My first thought was some kind of attack, but then again, it's my job to assume that. Anyhow, sorry you came out the worse for wear. Some magical flame can be made cool to the touch, if one takes the time. I imagine the alchemists in charge of decorations learned that lesson the hard way, if not as hard as you."

Screech's entrance also makes quite the scene. Robert throws a mock salute towards the Kenku across the table. "I'll be darned - Screech, from beak to tail. I hadn't expected to see you in a joint like this."

Robert generally waits on Bowan to answer Zophar's questions, as they overlap with the ones in his own mind.

[Wooloo]

When the Kenku druid arrives, Bowan says:

“Ah, you must be the one they call Screech! Nice of you to join us. Just in time too.”

Then he turns to answer Zophar:

“I’ll presume you’re familiar with the fundamentals of magic. Well, this orb that I seek is a pure crystal ball. In basic terms, it enhances the power of divination magic.. And in my line of work, divination helps you tell apart the paying customer from the ones who come to rob you.”

He laughs and continues in a more serious tone

“Now why is it dangerous.." Bowan spreads a map of the region atop the table.
“Leaving the city, headed south, you’ll have to enter the territory of the Black Mud gang. They are a nasty group of road bandits. Avoid them at all cost and if you run into one of them.. well.. Just remember there’s always more of them than you can see..”

“Now, rumor has it that a group of Firenewts is nesting-- Yes.. Fire-Newts. They are humanoid, about yay high, might breath fire, I’m not sure. Sentient creatures, hurdle in cults worshipping some forgotten fire-god. Very dangerous.-- Continuing: a group of Firenewts is nesting in that old fortress. So, the best way to find the entrance is to try and follow one of them. Once inside the fortress, reach the old throne room. The item I want is in there.”

"That’s the sum of it. What do you say?"

[Zergrinch]

Zophar shrugs. "Acceptable, though I see not the reason of your wariness of the Black Mud brigands. Typical bandits, and a superstitious and cowardly lot, I say," the dragonborn sniffs. Partly to emphasize how little he thinks of them, but more to cleanse his snout of dust.

[Dimers]

Rever objects, "A hundred gold for any who return is a poor bargain for those who don't. I say, five hundred gold to split among ourselves, even if we come back fewer than we leave. Five hundred sounds like a good bargain for a real crystal ball, I'd say. Plus then if we make friends along the way, you won't end up paying a small army one hundred apiece. What do you say to that?"

[Wooloo]

Bowan listens to Zophar’s and Rever’s considerations while rummaging through his bag, trying to find something.

“Ha! I have always loved negotiating with dwarves. You make a very reasonable point, so it’s a deal! The reward will be 500 gold pieces for the party to divide.”

Suddenly, the magic merchant finds the object in his bag:

“Found it! I have something for you, my paladin friend.”

Bowan places a large candle on the table, right in front of Zophar. It’s scent brings back memories from the temple and the dragonborn sees the holy symbol of Bahamut gently carved on the side.

“Go on, take it. Consider this a symbol of my good will. See, I’m not a heretic.”

“What a joyous moment! Nothing lifts my spirit like the beginning of a new adventure!
I wish you the best of luck. If you need to find me, come back to the salty plum, I’m always around. But for now,
I have another appointment I need to get to. May the maiden of blessed hearts look over your journey. And I’ll see you when you get back.”

Bowan departs almost in a rushed manner, squeezing himself between brawling tavern patrons and disappearing among the crowd. He has already paid the tab, you don't have to worry about it.

===========

Now the group of strange heroes is alone in the salty plum.

A dragonborn paladin, a blue-skinned bodyguard, a clumsy bird druid and a dwarf barbarian.
A strange group indeed, but oddly comforting. Each hero appears to be able and competent in their field of expertise, so it should be a safe journey.

Spoiler: Choose something to do

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What do you want to do now?
Current time is 3 o’clock in the afternoon.
A few options are:
Prepare for the trip
Go sightseeing around the city of Kwondo
Try your luck at gambling
Search for bargains in the flee market
Go pickpocketing
Visit the city’s temple and offer a prayer to your gods
Take a nap
Search for an extra job at the bounty hunter’s guild
Or anything else you can think of in a somewhat big fantasy city

Spoiler: About the trip

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About the trip:
From the info you got, it would take full 3 days of travel to reach the mountains by foot.
However… You do have a party member (Rever) with a slower walking speed.
Which bumps the road time up to 4 days.
You noticed around town that some merchants rent mounts, guides, camp guards and torch bearers to help adventurers. For a fee, of course.

[Zergrinch]

Zophar gives the motley crew a meaningful once-over. They seem capable, although of course they were not anywhere near his level of competence.

"I am ready to depart. Unless anybody needs more time prepare?" Although his voice remains even and the dragonborn says it in a non-confrontational and conversational tone, there is the slightest hint of condescension on the word "prepare".

[WhismurWanders]

Screech impatiently taps on the table to get everyone's attention before making various pack-animal noises: a braying donkey, a neighing horse, and the gruff but friendly barking of a mastiff. He swings his head around and looks around on the others, before adding the creaking of wagon wheels and tilting his head inquisitively.

[Archemist]

Robert nods as well to Bowan and says simply, "Deal."

After he's gone, he confers with the others and adds, The bird's a wise one, don't underestimate him. Some wheels could come in handy. Or just horses, if we want to stay more mobile. Or do they do camels in these parts? Axebeaks?"

[Dimers]

"I am ready to depart. Unless anybody needs more time prepare?"

"Normally I'd say 'no time like the present', but weren't we supposed to be five? I'm thinking we -- or one of us, at any rate -- should wait here to give our fifth merry marauder a little more time to arrive. Have any of you met the person?" Rever's words belie his rather savage appearance; he's no thoughtless rager, it would seem.

[Wooloo]

After short deliberation, the party of missmatching heroes elects to wait a little bit more for the delayed fifth companion. Afterall, the tea is pleasant and bowls of food are brought to each one, all paid by the patron Bowan Fidart.

But as the hours slip by, it becomes clear the guy isn’t coming.
A wide variety of hypotheses are entertained. He could have found a better or more pressing job to do.. Or he could have fallen victim of the dreaded Black Muds.. If he was to arrive by the sea, his ship could have been assaulted by raiding sea elves. Or maybe old enemies found him and slit his throat somewhere in a dark alley.
In any case, the party decides to depart.

Considering the long road ahead, the group decides to rent two camels and a local guide.
The guide is a small sized humanoid, looking reasonably young. He wears sand colored robes and turban and his skin is a dark shade of grey. He also wears a special pair of goggles with dark lenses. To protect his sight from the sun and the sandstorms.
Each hero pays 7gold pieces, 2 silver pieces, and 5 copper pieces.

The guide, Laro, rides ahead of the group in a strange kind of woolly goat with long spiraling horns.

After reading their gear, the party leaves the city and heads south towards the mountains.
The journey proves to be a joyless effort with vultures circling the party high in the sky. The desert land offers little to see or do. Every now and then, a lizard hushes from under a rock over to burrow under another identical rock. Scarce plants and rare trees are dried up and almost lifeless.

Laro, the guide, exclaims:

"Ah! The beautiful desert land! Don't you just love it?"

Spoiler: Any actions?

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Does your character take any actions during the trip?

[Zergrinch]

"Could be worse," Zophar booms out. Although unaccustomed to the desert climate and more at home with the cold, the cold-blooded reptile finds himself more comfortable with the warm, steady heat of the desert, which provides him with stable temperature control. "Although how you are navigating us without much in the way of features and still avoiding these Black Mud brigands is beyond me. How do you do your pathing?" he addresses the guide.

Zophar hasn't done anything much other than bask in the sun, and of course keep a sharp eye out for anything out of the ordinary, while perched atop his summoned steed that is currently taking the form of a dromedary.

[WhismurWanders]

Screech was miserable, and he wasn't shy enough to hide his displeasure. He was a black bird covered in feathers which were making him very hot, and very uncomfortable. He makes a hissing noise, the sound of something frying in a pan before punctuating his noises with the sound of a crying baby. He jams a hood over his head in an attempt to escape the heat before taking his ire out on a pebble which dared place itself within kicking reach. He reaches for his waterskin and takes a sip before scowling at the road ahead in near-silence, occasionally whining with more sizzling sounds.

[Dimers]

"That I do," Rever replies. "When the dust isn't blowing, you can see for miles. I still prefer a forest, mind you, so full of life -- a dozen living things with every step you taken instead of vice versa. But the desert has a different kind of beauty. Did you grow up around here, Laro?"

The dwarf has been mostly quiet over the course of the trip so far, though he's asked the guide about things a survivor would want to know, questions on plants and animals and water sources.

[Archemist]

Robert has not minded the heat. A breeze would be nice, though. He lets Screech do the complaining and nods in sympathy.

And he lets Laro’s cheerfulness roll on out into the ether unremarked upon. He stays observant and has been taking stock of his new companions as well.

[Wooloo]

When asked by Zophar about how he navigates the desert, the guide Laro says “Ah, my friend, I have a special ability.. I can speak with the sand.” It’s hard to tell if he is joking or being honest.
In fact, Laro does very often check a small wrist band with a tiny white stone. This could be some kind of magical compass that he doesn’t want to reveal. Afterall, if you snatched it from him, Laro would find himself out of his livelihood.

He continues: “The Black Muds aren’t that bad. You just gotta pay their toll and they’ll let you pass. It’s not true that they are raiders. This is just a rumour flown by Princess Rhadia and her blind followers.”

When asked about his origins, Laro gets a little evasive. These are human lands, and although none of you are human, Laro seems even more exotic. “I was born under the mountains, further south.. Not much to say about home.”

------------------

Spoiler: Food eaten

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During the first day, the party had already eaten.
During the second day of travel, you need to consume 1 day of travel rations.
It is now the third day of the journey, but it is still morning. Around 10am.

After an endless march through the punishing desert, you reach the foot of the mountains, and now that is an impressive sight to see! The mountain looks like a jagged behemoth of crude red rock sprouting violently from the ground.

An opening in the rock leads to a trail, wide enough for the whole party.

The guide, Laro, halts the entire group near a wooden sign nailed to a big rock.

The sign reads: “This is Black Mud territory. Be warned that a tribute is expected from all visitors. Failure to comply will make us angry.”

After a few more minutes of walking, a second sign reads:

“Warning! Our pet giant has escaped his confinement. Don’t let his appearance fool you, Groklok is a gentle, peaceful creature. The Black Muds kindly ask all travellers not to stab, pierce or bludgeon him any further.”

There’s an addendum hammered below the main text:

“Warning #2! Do not feed Groklok!”

After this second sign, Laro finds a camping spot and says:

“I won’t go any further. This is Black Muds territory. If you do survive your adventure, I’ll be here when you emerge from the trail.”

Fully aware of the dangerous surroundings, the party presses forward through the trails diligently searching for signs of Firenewts. The party leaves the camels with Laro and continues the hike on foot inside a large cannyon.

After a few hours of walking, you hear a loud whistling sound.
The trail ahead is blocked by heavily armed thugs.

A young woman stands atop the leftside cliff, shouldered by more members of the gang. She wears leather armor. Her voice echoes down in the valley:

“Ha ha ha! Welcome to the Black Mud valley! Please place your generous contribution in our collecting goblet and be on your way.”

One of the bandits starts walking towards you holding a good sized golden goblet. He is not branding any weapons, but there’s a bow on his back and two scythes in his belt.

[Zergrinch]

With his hand firmly on his shield, Zophar approaches the bandit and drops a single copper coin into the goblet.

[Wooloo]

The collector growls and shakes the goblet:
“The toll is 20 gold. Each. Pay up!”

[Archemist]

The collector growls and shakes the goblet:
“The toll is 20 gold. Each. Pay up!”

"A simple shakedown, eh? That's all you want to be doing with your life? Do you value your lives so cheaply? Take a look at us, do we look like the usual easy marks to you? Maybe your eyesight is going. Or did you think we wandered this way not knowing already that you'd be here? Please. Take what we gave you and be off." Robert stands tall and takes a step forward to stand next to Zophar.

He doesn't put anything additional in the goblet.

[Zergrinch]

"No need for violence, right gentlemen?" Zophar hums, as he grabs the extortionist to use as a human shield.

Grapple: Athletics: (1d20+8)[20]

[WhismurWanders]

The sudden irritated conversation jerked Screech from his ruminations on Groklok and his diet. It seemed his companions were looking to be threatening, and he could definitely see the advantage of refusing to pay a toll. With that in mind, the Kenku quietly reaches for his wand and peers around them to try and spot any would-be ambushers. If there was one thing he knew about bandits, it was that what you saw was only a taste of how many were lurking in nearby hiding.

Spoiler

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Perception: (1d20+3)[20]

[Archemist]

Spoiler: OOC - Intimidation

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(1d20+4)[8]

Robert looks at Zophar and says simply, "Never liked violence, myself, either."

[Dimers]

"It has its uses. Tends to be painful, for at least one person involved." Rever's shield was already strapped on, and now he draws his rapier, keeping it pointed at the ground for the time being.