Avatar of Lewascan2

Status

Recent Statuses

5 yrs ago
Fastest draw.

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Whelp, considering that the scale of potential conflict is someone/thing potentially Anti-Spiral-adjacent maybe-possibly tossing moons/planets at us... and that @Dead Cruiser described what we should be making as (and I quote): both "the most powerful champion that ever lived. Full stop" and "anime protagonist in the last fight in the last episode with the OP playing behind them."

That's pretty much what I did. XD



Did a whole flipping makeshift character-sheet, but I'll be sure to translate it to the proper form, once the OP releases their preferred template.
@Dead Cruiser
So, I think I've got something figured out. Should I just drop the potential character concept here or in a PM?
@Dead Cruiser

Hmmm... Mainly what inspired me were the "Reaching Heaven" and "Requiem" mechanics of the setting. I think it's fair to say that anyone that could achieve both would obtain ultimate power (in the local universe granted). The title of this story just got me thinking heavily in that direction.

As far a stand user not being quite a match-up for the rest of the overpowered cast, I will simply refer you to Heaven Ascension DIO, but that's neither here nor there. I'm pretty sure I can still make the character concept work, even if I have to rename and rework a ton of stuff to make a more broadly merely setting-inspired backstory. XD
@Dead Cruiser
Excellent.
It's not my intention to be the cause of a crossover event, but I'm hoping to use an original stand user from the ridiculous setting, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. I even have a canonical event in mind that could easily be twisted to be a fairly good cause for them getting ejected from the universe.
Freaking Part 6 Universe Reset is something else. Araki has no chill with main character deaths.
I just want the base source of the powerset honestly, and the "Reaching Heaven" title is what got me thinking about this particular powerset.

If this isn't fine, I'm good with doing something else. I love the concept of this story, and I have a few other character ideas that could work.
@Dead Cruiser
What I meant was, to clarify, an original character naturally, but with abilities/powers based out of a preexisting fiction. Is that on the table, or are we talking from the ground up abilities?
Like, assume they are an original character from a given alt-universe of an existing setting, "beat the game" as it were, and then accidentally found themselves in this new situation.
@Dead Cruiser
I am actually super hooked for this. Depending on how quickly we need to post and such, I'm absolutely hyped for this concept.
Is this expected to be like a completely original setting, or are original characters based out of preexisting fictional settings on the table?
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hugh Caphazath
Half-Elf, Monk (Way of Shadow), Level 3
HP: 24/24 Armor Class: 17 Conditions: NA
Location: Avonshire Region, Main Trade Road
Action: N/A
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━


There were only so many ways to approach a stranger with the intent of gathering information from them without looking suspicious. Hugh had long-since mastered the art of such things, and chief among his favored methods was the half-truth presentation of himself as just another traveler looking to educate themselves in the local ways.

It was this, in large part, that influenced his rather lackluster and down to earth appearance. Hugh, for better or worse, was a man who lived and breathed his job, and self-expression was a small price to pay for extraordinary boosts to his effectiveness and conspicuousness. He was just another stubbled face in the crowd. He could go anywhere, be anyone, and his appearance was so nondescript that it was hard to ever see a successful bounty or warrant for arrest being put out for him. He was simply too generic.

It was, in fact, entirely fair to say whatever social appeal Hugh might have was contained entirely within his ability to act… and the fey genetics that -at the very minimum- prevented him from being defined as “ugly”.

Case and point.

Hugh whistled out a low, impressed shrill at the sizable drift of swine currently on their way to the slaughter, catching the attention of their human, a weathered man with salt and pepper hair, who looked like he might just be on the verge of needing to retire this job to someone younger. There was a wagon a little ways ahead of the group of pigs that appeared to be acting as a tether for a great many leads that gently but firmly tugged the mass of swine along. A somewhat younger fellow appeared to be steering the cart, but Hugh couldn’t imagine what he was doing taking the less physically intensive task… assuming they were a relative or hire.

“Quite th’ imper’ssive bunch, wouldn’t ya’ say?” the nigh-venerable man spoke proudly, a single hand stroking his beard and goatee.

Hugh resisted the urge to itch at his own stubble at the sight, as he simply smiled and nodded. “All yours?” He stepped a bit closer at the implied welcome and gestured broadly at the livestock. Hugh didn’t touch them, however, not even in a manner of apparent admiration. Not only couldn’t he be sure how the farmer would respond, but more importantly, he’d no idea how any of the animals would react. For all their open passivity, even with the farmer’s go-ahead, he’d be hesitant just as a matter of course.

“Aye,” the man replied, grinning toothily. “Before ye’ be the best batch we’ve ‘ad in least the past decade.”

“Really now?” Hugh replied with outward and not entirely feigned interest. After all, he was typically always up to learn something new. “They are quite large…” Several of the chonkers actually nearly reached his hip in height; truly, they were almost unnervingly large. “I’m no farmer, so I’ll just have to take your word for it, Mr… Ah,” he spoke up as if in realization, stepping around the swine to hold out his free hand. “I realized I never asked your name. How rude of me to forgo the pleasantries. Hugh, curious traveler, at your service.”

Raising a brow at that, the man nonetheless shook his hand. “Freddy Cumberbatch, ‘umble farmer, at ‘yer service, Mr. ‘Curious Traveler’.”

Hugh snorted mirthfully at that. “Don’t I know it. This ‘Harvest-time’ something or another seems to have everyone in a hurry.”

“Harvestide, laddie,” the man corrected, just as planned. Such a verbal misstep on his own part should continue to enforce the image he was building of himself in Freddy’s mind. “Name’s p’erty self-explanetory. The time b’fer th’ cold rolls in that us smallfolk finally turn our labors inter’ profit and per’pare fer’ the anne’ul celebration.”

Ahah, an opening!

“Is that what all the hurry is about?” Hugh mused thoughtfully. “I’ve been around the block, and winter appears to be coming early this year. I imagine that can’t be good for anyone’s stress.”

“Aye,” Freddy nodded. “Time-tables movin’ up this year.” He hummed in his throat, frowning.

“Pardon me if it’s presumptuous, but when you’ve gotten a feel for so many different places, you tend to grow accustomed to feeling out the mood of new locations more quickly,” Hugh said leadingly. “Maybe I’m just hungry, but a gut feeling is telling me there’s something more troubling than an early winter pressing on the consciousness of the locals.”

Freddy’s brows furrowed at him. “Couldn’t say… Ah’m not the sort to mislead with mere rumors.” Unfortunately, rumors were exactly what Hugh wanted from him. At this point, any lead at all was valuable.

“Like the goblins?” Hugh inquired.

Freddy shook his head. “Nay, the damned goblins are a familiar pest. Well…” he pawed at his goatee. “To be honest, they’re uncommon, ‘cept in the winter. It’s round the time the little blighters tend to get bolder fer’ whatever damned reason.”

“Probably supplies?” Hugh shrugged. “I can’t see it being all that easy for them to find food in the winter. If they don’t raid, they starve. It’s most likely desperation, not that it makes it any better how many people they hurt.”

“Aye,” Freddy nodded. “Ah’d considered as much.” He hummed thoughtfully and gave Hugh a searching look. “Say, yer’ pretty well-spoken fer’ a traveler.”

Hugh blinked at that but chuffed and smiled. “That I am. I have, however, spent the vast majority of my time the past decade in cities and towns educating myself and making a living wherever and however I may find. Perhaps I once spoke a bit ‘rougher’, but it’s long since left my memory. Honestly, my manner of speech had never occurred to me as odd, nor do most people I think.”

“Aye, Mr. Hugh, that they don’t,” Freddy nodded.

“Well, I wish you luck at the butcher’s,” Hugh started, preparing to disengage before the older man’s interest in him became much stronger. As a final redirection of topic, he asked, “I’m planning on being around Avonshire for at least the next week. Anything a traveler should possibly be worried about?”

Freddy hummed at that, taking a moment to herd a couple wayward spine back into the general group. “Well… Iffin’ yer’ fixin t’ stick ‘rund fer’ a while longer, might want to mind the weather. Winter’s comin’ early, and ye’ might find yer’self trapped here for the fer’seeable future. If ye’ are, you best have saved up enough coin, cause work’ll be harder t’ find without a local presence.”

Hugh nodded along. Fair concerns, all told. After all, the locals would mostly be trying to conserve their own coin in these slow chilled months of little profit. Indeed, an outsider might have a more difficult time with seeing them part with said coin.

Bidding a final farewell to the pig farmer, Freddy Cumberbatch, Hugh briefly returned to his self-imposed watch, but luckily, it seemed as if no-one was particularly pasting the adventuring party any undue attention. His token gesture made, Hugh returned to his investigations.

(/._./)

He waited some time till such a moment as Freddy and his herd of pigs were long since out of sight, before he chose a new target. Best to ensure he wasn’t noted as a nosy outsider by many eyes.

This time, he chose a small family riding a cart loaded to the brim with barrels of -from what he could tell- all manner of crops, fruits and vegetables alike. Normally, he wouldn’t have much grounds to strike up a conversation, but the cart was currently tugged off to the side of the road to handle a dislodged wheel.

As he approached, Hugh could see that the apparent mother and two small children -one of which was an infant- could only really look on anxiously, as a young man struggled to lift the ominously leaning back-left side of the cart while simultaneously levering a wheel back into place. Hugh frowned at the nigh-overflowing cart and then at the man’s task, before stepping forward.

“You know,” Hugh began conversationally, doing his best not to let condescension leak into his tone and leaning on his staff several feet away, “you might have an easier time of it if you unloaded the cart first…” And/or, for that matter, just asked for his wife’s help. Assuming the similarly young woman could trust her elder child to hold her infant for a short time, the man could do the lifting, and she could slide the wheel back into place. This seemed like an obvious solution, so was the young man just engaging in relatively youthful stupidity and trying to show off? Possibly.

“Wah-?” the young man started in surprise, turning away from his task and wiping beads of sweat from his brow that was reddened from futile effort. His eyes panned over Hugh’s form for several seconds, before he scoffed. “Mind ‘yer own business, stranger. Les’ yer’ gonna make yerself useful, I’ve got work t’ do.”

So, youthful stupidity. Gotchya.

Hugh openly rolled his eyes and doffed his backpack, leaning his staff atop it on the ground. The extra weight wouldn’t be doing him any good for the next little while. Rolling up his sleeves, Hugh stepped up to the back of the wagon and reached for the first of the barrels, only to have his hand slapped away by the now standing young man, who was glowering at him, still somewhat red in the face, likely from a combination of effort and frustration.

“The hell you think yer’ doing?” he demanded. “Best not try that again, or you’re face’ll be havin’ words with my fist.”

Hugh snorted dismissively. “Disregarding exactly how utterly outclassed a mere civilian like you would be in a physical confrontation with an adventurer…” He enjoyed the open blanche of the man. “I’m just doing what you said and ‘making myself useful’.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t let your pride get in the way, and just let me help. The more time you waste, the more time there is for the weather or far less savory individuals than myself to catch up with you… and your family.”

The young man’s face reddened, and he puffed up like he was going to start shouting, before glancing in his wife’s direction and then deflating with a grumble, as he bit out, “Fine.”

That little issue set aside, the young man begrudgingly set about doing things Hugh’s way, as the two of them slowly but surely unloaded the cart. By the end of things, Hugh was sweating notably more so than the young man. For all his skill and agility, he was no physical powerhouse. Hard labor like this didn’t agree with him, but if there was an upside to be found, his clear struggles seemed to soothe the wounded pride of the young farmer, who handled the lifting and moving with far more ease and routine.

Twenty minutes later, as the cart wheel retook it’s rightful place, Hugh groaned and leaned back against the repaired cart in relief. “See, not so hard. Far less time wasted and far less risk of the cart collapsing under too much weight in the meantime.”

The young man grumbled, but at the nudging of his wife, he sighed long-sufferingly and held out a calloused hand. “Dwight.”

Clasping it firmly, the half-elf hid a wince at the perhaps competitive grip he was forced to contest for several moments. “Hugh.”

Dwight sniffed and released his grip. “Ya’ can’t lift fer’ shit, but…”

“Hun,” the wife broke in, elbowing her taller man.

“Yeh, yeah,” he sighed, groaning. “Thank ye’ for your assistance.”

“No problem,” Hugh replied dryly, shrugging somewhat self-deprecatingly. “I’m no muscle-bound laborer. ‘Adventurer’ though I may be, I’ve always relied on skill and wits to carry the day. It’s the sort of approach that is valuable in nearabouts every situation.” He smiled. “Instead of tackling problems head on, I do my best to think around them, expending far less effort for the same or better results. That said…” He glanced at the mass of barrels on the ground. “I made this mess in a way, so don’t think I won’t help you clean it up. In the meantime, I’m not a local, so if you don’t mind, I’d love to ask some questions about the area?”

Begrudgingly, Dwight agreed.

All in all, Hugh came away from that conversation with more tidbits of farming knowledge than he could shake a stick at. While they couldn’t -or wouldn’t- clarify more regarding the vague feeling of unease that lay upon the land, they could further espouse upon what he’d mostly already gathered by osmosis. As farmers, they were naturally unhappy about the early winter and having to harvest several crops early or risk them be ruined entirely. They also happened to be delivering several batches of grapes and honey for a friend who lived further out. Apparently both foodstuffs were primarily produced on the outskirts of the region.

Beyond that, there was little to say or learn, and Hugh moved on once the cargo had been returned to its proper place. After another round of checking for traps or unsavory sorts tailing the party, Hugh made the executive decision that the rest of his time might be better served keeping a weather eye out. After all, any information he might gather would be useless if his team got killed because he wasn’t performing his role adequately. That said, one or two more divergences couldn’t hurt.

(/._./)

The pond was quiet and calm, tastefully so. Some distance away, the trade road bustled quietly with the sound of the party’s retreating cart, as Hugh observed the goings on with a raised brow.

An older fellow sat nearby with their fishing rod’s bait bobbing merrily on the water’s surface, a basket of river fish sitting beside them. Indeed, Hugh couldn’t recall their name, but they certainly seemed the sort of fish to leap up rapids, which was notable considering the presence of no such rapids anywhere nearby that he could tell. One might worry about such catches beginning to stink if they weren’t sold posthaste.

“Not worried about those going bad?” Hugh inquired. He was honestly somewhat curious, as he really had no idea how long it took for fish to become unsafe for consumption.

The man simply shrugged, much to Hugh’s dismay. In all honestly, the conversation the followed was painfully slow, given the passivity of the target and Hugh’s inability to find a decent conversation hook until much further down the line than seemed reasonable.

What little relevant information he managed to get out of the man was also distinctly unhelpful. Apparently, the old codger had gotten a letter just last week from a cousin who lived in a border village called Southmoor. Given the circumstances, this could be either proof of nothing or one strike against the rumor of communication issues with outlying settlements. Hugh would simply add it to the list, but overall?

“This was a waste of time,” he grumbled once out of earshot. Granted, it was less of a waste than sitting around chatting, but the point remained. He’d gotten unlucky it seemed, and nothing of real substance had been found. Sighing long-sufferingly, Hugh returned to the party and set about his vigil properly, slowly patrolling a small circle around the cart.

(/._./)

A thought had occurred to him quite quickly upon his return.

What the hell happened to Naivara?

Last he’d honestly seen her, they’d been in town, as he’d split off from the group to attend to his own self-imposed mission. Had she seen his act as an example to follow? Actually, since he’d never really explained what he was doing, what the hell did she manage to take away from his actions? Especially given he’d often been lost to the party’s sight entirely and had to quickly jog down the road to catch up again.

No one seemed to be concerned about it, nor did they make mention of it even once in the following hours, as the forestry began to pick up in thickness.

Had… he been wrong? Had he misjudged her as trustworthy so badly, or had she simply managed to get lost? He quite doubted the latter, given that someone of her profession should be well versed in navigating the land, and with such a massive landmark as the trade road around…? Her departure seemingly couldn’t be anything but deliberate.

Perhaps… she’d been captured or assassinated? Somehow, that seemed more reasonable, given what he’d seen of her thus far. Perhaps…

His hackles rising interrupted any further thoughts in that direction, and Hugh couldn’t help stiffening up, as a strange quiet wormed its way into the area. His gut curdled, and that ever-present feather-light touch of fey intuition once more knocked at his mind. It wasn’t just a lack of fellow travelers that brought such silence… but instead the all too damning absence of nature’s background noise.

An ambush? A large predator? It could be all too many things that would scare off the wildlife.

Still, it seemed as though his fellow half-elf was feeling that same intuition, as the cart crested a rise over a notably more forested section of the area. Abruptly, the purple-clad Bard liberated the reins from the tiefling’s far less adept hands and brought the mule to an abrupt halt, doffing her hat to apparently enhance something only she was hearing.

Consumed in his thoughts and having been patrolling behind the cart at that moment, Hugh had been mostly buffeted by the noise of ongoing conversation and the clamor of the wagon, but now that it was suddenly so silent?

The half-elf crouched and crept the rest of the way up the rise, peering over the side and squinting futilely at the foliage below. He could hear it, now that the noise of the party was brought to an overall halt, the sound of a grating harsh language that tickled at his memory. It seemed in this observational respect too that his fellow half-elf fared better than him, as she proclaimed the existence of green-yellow skin.

Goblins. It almost had to be. Honestly, Hugh hadn’t expected they’d be earning their pay so soon this far from the regional borders, but in hindsight, this… would be a good test of competence. Yes, as much as he’d love to avoid such conflict altogether, especially given that this wasn’t actually their mission, merely their official excuse, this would still do quite nicely.

“Sorry to say,” Hugh muttered quietly, “but in addition to Common (obviously), I only hold the Elvish tongue to my name… along with my rather distantly ancestral language of the Fey.”

Scowling, he found himself tensing harshly at the sound of the cleric casting again. Bracing himself, he felt some of that tension leave his shoulders, as the wave of damned magic didn’t come. Instead, Marita seemed distinctly disappointed, as she and Kathryn disembarked from the cart and readied themselves for battle.

Marita made a fair point about not barging in, but on the other hand… “Under no circumstances should we bring our cart, as we descend,” Hugh spoke up firmly. “Not only would we abandon any possible chance at subtlety, but the vulnerable mule could be killed in any conflict that might arise. It costs us nothing to leave it behind up here. The beast seems docile enough, and while secured to that cart, I can’t see us having any trouble tracking it down if it wanders.”

He sighed. “That aside, stealth may be the least of our worries… and yet remain absolutely vital all the same.” Firming up his shoulders, Hugh drew his bow and checked the string’s security. “If this is goblins, which seems most likely to be the case, and considering the presence of the overturned cart…? We may very well have a hostage situation on our hands.”

His expression darkened. “I’ve dealt with these pathetic bottom feeders on multiple occasions in my line of work. It is difficult to imagine more cowardly, selfish and ruthless beings, who are -somehow- ironically the most prideful little shits around.” Running a quick once-over of his stock of darts, Hugh continued. “They are proud, yet simultaneously at least subconsciously aware of their own weakness and maliciously clever enough to compensate for said weakness. And roving, uncivilized bands like these also tend to be sadistic cannibals… In all likelihood, we may yet have survivors down below, ready and waiting to be made meat-shields at the slightest provocation.”

He grumbled at the necessity of offering, but making a final once-over of his two heavily-armored companions…? Yeah. “As a Ki cultivator, I have the ability to do something similar to magic. In particular, I can infuse a fairly sized thirty foot area and those of my choice within it with the power to be all but one with the shadows, leaving absolutely no non-magical trace of their passage. To a degree, it also muffles sound as well.” Sighing, he scratched lightly at his stubble. “Personally, to be safe, I’d much prefer to scout ahead alone, but if that’s unacceptable, this is the best I can do to mitigate the chances of us having a much more morally compromising situation before us. If there are hostages, our best bet is to strike first, strike hard and get the civvies shielded behind us.”

Huffing, he begrudgingly admitted, “I most often default to my bow in situations of uncertain opposition, but if things are dire, I can handle myself in melee just fine. In addition, my Ki can manifest a single simple illusion over the hostages if we can divert attention from them. I can make it about five feet wide in any direction, so it should be sufficient.” Rolling his jaw tensely, he exhaled. “In all honesty, because I don’t use magic to do what I do, rather my own internal reserves of cultivated life force, I’ll be fairly tapped out on anything else of significant magic-adjacent value, but regardless, I feel the best thing I can contribute to our efforts is the critical element of absolute surprise.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hugh Caphazath
Half-Elf, Monk (Way of Shadow), Level 3
HP: 24/24 Armor Class: 17 Conditions: NA
Location: Darenby, The Infamous Pear -> Avonshire Region
Action: N/A
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━


Hugh winced at the rather over the top display of gratitude from the tiefling and added it to his list of reasons to never do anything nice for her. The less he had to put up with somehow incurring her attentions the better.

More curious, however, he thought, was the remarkable loss of composure from Victoria. Hugh found himself frankly baffled by the idea that something as small as a hug could crack the mask of a socialite of a Bard’s caliber. Seriously, what kind of Bard was that… susceptible to simple positive touch?

Granted, he was one to talk about masks and losing them, but mind manipulation was an entirely different realm of serious compared to a mere hug, so he felt he had plenty of room to talk actually, especially since the uncontrollable anger itself was also a mask to some level.

Honestly, the Bard’s about-face from distantly charming to practically blushing maiden was so stark that Hugh had to do a double-take. Further, her composure could not seem to be fully regained at any point thereafter that he could see. Honestly, if he didn’t know better, he’d almost call her smitten with the tiefling. Though she continued to make room in her words for the rest of the party, it was clear to anyone with eyes that hers were only for the tiefling for the foreseeable future… Unfortunately.

Honestly, for all the provocativeness of her garb, he’d not actually expected the tiefling’s advances to go anywhere, but here they were it seemed. He really hoped not. The last thing they needed right now was even more distractions from the actual mission, and the tiefling having more influence could only be a bad thing for the team’s prospects.

Once the topic had turned to the map and business at hand, Hugh could only nod his head in satisfaction that the map had done its job and better visualized their goals for those without a firm grasp of the region’s anatomy. He could only just resist rolling his eyes at the tiefling, however. It was borderline winter, a time when the days grew shorter and the nights colder. Since when was “early afternoon” during such a time still applicable to daytime, and when exactly had he implied they’d still have daylight to begin with? And in what world would that be a limitation for proper investigators? The sun may set, but that didn’t mean they were to set with it. The night was just as profitable for their purposes -in some ways moreso, but that could wait for later conversation…

Once the party had gotten their fill of staring at parchment, Hugh rolled the map back up and safely stowed it back in its case, screwing the top back on with a satisfied hum. Unwilling to face the outside chill until necessary, Hugh spent the next small period of time simply resting in his chair… and the clearly far too wired Bard started badgering them about hurrying up. Honestly…

Hugh stood up with a sigh, slinging his pack straps over his shoulders and taking hold of his staff, the wooden pole thunking along the floorboards in imitation of a hiking stick. As low wooden thumps transformed into the gravelly crunch and squish of humid dirt and pebbles, Hugh frowned at the cart and its beast of burden.

The back of the cart was currently occupied by a large chest and a not-so-alive swine, the sight of which nicely decided where exactly Hugh would not be spending his time. Frankly, as much as he was willing to set aside personal discomfort for the sake of the mission, it would only be unnecessary discomfort to remain in close proximity to an undead… no matter how apparently well-leashed or surprisingly stench-free it was.

The Cleric and Kathryne seemed to have no such misgivings, as they took a seat in the back of the cart. Victoria took the reins, and the tiefling was beckoned to sit beside her…

Well, he certainly wouldn’t be using the cart at all at this rate it seemed, not that he’d had much intention of doing so before. He was perfectly fine walking alongside the cart, and besides, sitting in the cart in either spot would only disadvantage him as far as keeping watch for potential threats… something no-one else seemed keen on doing.

Sighing again under his breath, as the party left town, Hugh hummed in thought, making pleasantly surprised note of the numerous locals of the region filter in and out the party’s general area. An opportunity presented itself clearly.

On the one hand, diverting some of his attention in such a way could be costly… On the other…? The team was already on a time crunch. Even if an ambush was possible (if unlikely), opportunities for him to freely gather information alone were sure to be unfortunately rare, given the current plan to split into pairs.

Six to seven hours on a highly populated trade road with locals? You couldn’t have stopped him if you tried. Instead of wasting his time keeping more than a cursory watch or making pointless small talk, he could instead actually spend the first day of their investigation being productive and chasing up potential leads.

After all, he was going to be stuck with the mess of a group for at least the next week. He had more than enough to investigate them up close and personal.

Tossing on a congenial expression that was far more genuine than one might expect given his ability to finally take some level of personal control over his immediate personal circumstances (and distance himself from the far too sociable and nosy individuals he’d been locked in close proximity to for hours), Hugh left the party’s general area and set to mingling with the populace.

Time to get to work.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Hugh Caphazath
Half-Elf, Monk (Way of Shadow), Level 3
HP: 24/24 Armor Class: 17 Conditions: NA
Location: Darenby, The Infamous Pear
Action: N/A
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━


It wasn’t often Hugh felt sympathy for others, but as she weathered the storm of commentary from the far more lively members of the party, the red-headed guardswoman certainly invoked it within him. She introduced herself as “Lynette” and seemed to be struggling with her composure, certainly frazzled enough so that she couldn’t seem to help venting a portion of her stress through an explanation of the local guard’s woes.

Unfortunately, said explanation did nothing to excuse the Sheriff’s careless actions. Hugh couldn’t be convinced at this stage that their client couldn’t have spared, at minimum, thirty more minutes with the party last night. It wasn’t possible that he was quite so busy that he couldn’t spare even ten minutes to convey forthrightly that all was not well with their mission. Hugh couldn’t get over the act of withholding potentially critical information at this juncture; the only thing such actions could possibly do was sow discord and mistrust, between not just the party members themselves, but the party and their client too.

Try as he might, Hugh couldn’t think of a single good reason for the Sheriff’s quick departure. Unless the town was actively being attacked, what could have possibly have so readily required his attention?

Lynette’s description of Victoria’s prior actions regarding the Sheriff was not exactly encouraging the dispersal of his suspicion of her, not only for the question of how she did so but also in terms of how almost uncharacteristic that sounded compared to what he’d seen of her so far. Then again, he’d not known her long, and he’d promised himself to objectivity. A single incident of irrationality was not proof of anything. That said, her apparent search for a butcher had fairly obvious connotations, all things considered, but he had no need to comment on the matter.

He nodded with a smile, pleased, as Lynette approved his personalized request. At her mention of the honestly surprising lack of smaller maps in the local guard’s possession, Hugh raised a single brow and waved off Lynette’s terse tone lightly, nodding to both her and Kathryn. “It is no matter. After all, in the course of my work, I’ve naturally come to possess several maps. We will not lack for navigational ability.” He patted his bag at that.

Aside from the map issue, he didn’t feel prompted to speak up on any of the table’s other conversations and remained quiet even once Guido had begun his rambling. Sifting through the conversational chaff, Hugh only nodded and tucked away some bread, cheese and sausage. It was hardly specially prepared for such, but even this food would keep well enough to feast handsomely for a day on the road. With any luck, he wouldn’t even have to use any of his rations.

As the party majority began to filter away from the table, either to shop or finalize their preparations for the road by equipping armor and the like, Hugh excused himself and did some shopping of his own. Having been in town the past five days, he’d had ample time to absorb the general location of a variety of merchants in his wanderings. And loath as he was to make any expenditures at this juncture, he’d discovered a couple areas of his equipment lacking that would need to be rectified posthaste.

Hissing lightly at the newly biting chill in the air, he made his first stop for a thick traveler’s blanket, woven to rough it in the outdoors and still provide ample warmth. While normally, he was able to far more easily control his circumstances of rest, there were no guarantees that he’d always be able to sleep under a roof for the foreseeable future. Thus, prepping for rest in the frigid outdoors was only prudent.

His next stop was to purchase some scribing material. Certainly, while he had made his personal request for better, the investigation in the here and now would likely require a way to take witness statements or potentially make notes of sensitive information without removing the source material. Best to prepare for any eventuality. Parchment and ink were almost insultingly expensive, but between those, an ink pen to use them with and the blanket, Hugh begrudgingly parted with a grand total of eleven gold and two copper pieces.

Sliding the five newly rolled up parchment sheets safely into his map case, Hugh then set about his final preparations for the road, checking and double-checking the integrity of his weapons, emptying his pair of waterskins of their remaining dregs of old stock and trekking down to the river for some fresh water.

The return to the inn brought forth the scene of Victoria’s apparently incredibly practical purchase for their erstwhile tiefling. Regardless of whatever else he might think about her, it would be less trouble if she were to not catch a fever from the cold and become useless and sickly. One less spellcaster at optimal efficiency and a dead-weight body to lug around only sounded like a bad deal, no matter which way you sliced it.

Returning to his seat, Hugh shook his head regretfully at Kathryn’s questions. “The time crunch being what it is, we have little left for us here in Darenby. Before we make any moves to split up, best we actually make our way to the Avonshire Township proper and observe the epicenter of this potential incident. And before that…”

As he trailed off, the shaggy-haired brunette reached into his bag and pulled out a simple, sturdy scroll case, twisting off the top and sliding out a fairly sizable sheet of hardy parchment, 1x2 feet in length. He delicately slid the work of cartography forward on the table, pinning one end down with his now empty mug and holding the other with his left hand, the parchment effectively halted from attempting to curl back into a roll.

Displayed broadly was a painted expanse of light green to pale yellow hills and sparse clumps of forestry, save for the north, where there rested a large stretch of dark green.

Humming briefly, he stood up and leaned over the table, lightly fingering a rather central location upon the map’s expanse. “We are here, in Darenby,” he explained, primarily for the benefit of Naivara and the more blatant foreigners among them. He slowly traced a line with his finger from there to a prominently marked location just south of the most heavily forested strip of land, indicative of a settlement to the west and ever so slightly north of Darenby by the map’s display. “About twenty miles west, along the main trade route, Avonshire proper and the region’s namesake. If all goes well with the weather and such, a six to seven hour journey isn’t out of the question. We can be there by early afternoon, potentially with time to begin our investigations before nightfall.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Hugh Caphazath
Half-Elf, Monk (Way of Shadow), Level 3
HP: 24/24 Armor Class: 17 Conditions: NA
Location: Darenby, The Infamous Pear
Action: N/A
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━


Hugh favored the young druid’s formal bidding of goodwill with a cordial nod.

He quite carefully, however, ignored responding to -or so much as outwardly acknowledging- the Pest’s greetings or the culinary abomination she was currently concocting. He had nothing productive to say to her, nor had he much intention of doing so unless it was in the course of addressing the rest of the group or necessarily in the heat of combat. He had her measure now, so without the pounding of the truth spell against his psyche to encourage irrationality, he wouldn’t be wasting his breath.

The general pleasantries being passed around were not contributed to by himself, but in all honesty, he was contributing just by opting to remain silent, as he indulged in the bounty of protein laid out before them while passing out what surprisingly few letters were requested.

Victoria’s suggestion to split up to cover more ground was solid common sense that he could only audibly hum in commisserant agreement with… and not only in the official capacity of saving precious time on their mission. Under normal circumstances, it might be a poor idea to leave any of their number to their own devices, what with a potential traitor being among them. But in this case, it would only make it easier for any egregious missteps to be tracked to the true perpetrator. It split the roles, divided the responsibilities, and being able to more clearly see who had either failed, been sabotaged or purposefully flubbed their results could only be a good thing. Additionally, considering the Pest’s begrudgingly competent and actually useful for once suggestion of brothels as information hubs… “Indeed. With only a week’s time to get this done, it makes no sense to concentrate our efforts like a bunch of lemmings. Having only a single point of failure and throwing all too much effort into a single line of investigation could only ever waste our precious time. Much as I prefer exacting and careful solo work, I can’t deny that splitting into perhaps three pairs would be best? Between our specialities and the potential lurking saboteur, acting alone could even be deadly if there really is something dangerous to be found… and someone with an interest in concealing it.” He nodded reassuringly at Kathryn. “Unfortunately, while there is certainly an admirable strength in numbers, if we want to conduct a proper investigation in only a week’s time, we’ll need to be in as many places at once as feasible. Perhaps we might take larger groups once we’ve narrowed down our leads.”

The Cleric’s seemingly similar train of thought to his own on the investigation front was both reassuring to see and burned him at the contradiction in her actions the day prior. Still, he absolutely hadn’t been lying when he said he could tolerate her actions this once out of professionalism. He’d made a promise to a contract, and he wouldn’t compromise its integrity so easily. If she misstepped so badly again, it would be an entirely different matter, but until such a time came to pass, he would do little more than keep her recklessness in check. And unlike her purporting of righteousness, however, he would neither forgive, nor forget. He’d meant what he said. Words were utterly worthless at the end of the day, and until her actions could truly bear out her claims, he wouldn’t afford her platitudes more worth than dirt.

The news that one “Father Restoff” was a full 10 days away was… “Discouraging and unfortunate.” But at her followup, he nodded, “Indeed, I wasn’t referring to the regional mail hub. Surely there must be a mere local establishment that sends letters to the hub? If there is to be a point of sabotage, it must be either there or in the Sheriff’s own facilities, and I can’t imagine us being granted access to the latter at this stage.”

He sighed at her mention of the lead, he reiterated, “As I mentioned before and did, in fact, directly ask the Sheriff about, I’ve heard tell of news that outlying farmlands have been conspicuously silent for some time. I inquired if this might be related, but our client didn’t even seem to acknowledge the question, leaving the relevance of said information still in flux. As for looking into our client, I’ll admit, despite my normal inclination to take such a veteran for their word, he has been remarkably conservative with his words. The fact that he didn’t feel that it was worth telling us of potential sabotage from the start… The fact that he disappeared at a critical time in the investigation… The fact that he seems remarkably unworried by the, no offense, frankly absurd risk in sending misled adventurers, of all people, to bull headfirst into any situation…?”

Hugh took a long pull from his tea. “No, I agree, and I’m far from happy that I must. Once is an accident. Twice is coincidence. But three times and so close together? Something seems amiss. I refuse to believe that any man as venerable and experienced as our client wouldn’t know just how volatile six similarly motivated adventurers could be to the peace of the region, regardless of their intentions. It is far from common, but a compromised or lying client… They happen. I really hope this is merely paranoia, but it is definitely a track of inquiry worth pursuing.”

Hugh pursed his lips at Victoria’s interjection, humming along lightly till she’d finished. “While it is true that the trap of the Letters, themselves, may have already be sprung and over with, there’s no sense throwing away even a single potential lead, no matter how thin, at this juncture, especially with nearly nonexistent options besides.” Sighing, he continued, wetting his throat with another gulp of strong tea, and nodding at the Bard and Kathryn’s commentary on assassination. “While I encourage the rest of you to freely make your own deductions, my going conclusion is that both Marita and Kathryn’s letters are the real deal… with mine coming in as a vaguely possible third. If I had to put money on a single letter I’d almost guarantee is meant to be here, I’d say Marita’s. That and prior testimonies in mind, I believe Victoria and Naivara’s to be some of the deliberately “planted” ones. And lastly, given that both our remaining tiefling and I obtained ours by fickle chance, I am inclined to consider that we are the wildcards, the genuine accidents, assuming this was planned.”

Rolling his neck, Hugh leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms lightly, relieving some of the anticipatory ache in them from having foregone his normal routines. “That in mind, no competent assassin would ever want to touch a mission involving “wildcards” with a hundred foot pole. While any assassin might have prepped for the eventuality of four of us, the fact that she was not even slightly in the cards and that I am as much of an exact opposite as possible to the original recipient of my letter would send any of them into fits. An additional spellcaster is always an utterly unpredictable force multiplier, and instead of a hulking brute that would have been vulnerable when they doffed their armor for the night, they instead got me, someone far more practiced at fighting in any place or condition, regardless of readiness or armament.” Sipping his tea again, he nodded. “While nerves were high last night, I hadn’t originally considered the idea that an assassin would be far more inclined to make revised preparations, rather than capitalizing on the existing discord and vulnerability.”

He chose to tactfully forgo commenting on the subject of attempting to raise their cooked food into undead. It was better for his peace of mind.

The sudden and frightful departure of the lavender tiefling, their former would-be comrade was exchanged for the approach of a serious ginger in brown, her cloak pinned by a symbol he couldn’t recall being indicative of the local guard. Marita’s own perking up and the woman’s greeting, however, were indicative of the truth of the matter.

Ugh, another holy woman.

Said woman turned out to be the Sheriff’s representative for the interim, and she handed a note to the Cleric. Hugh found his brow rising somewhat at that before recalling the inquiries she had made the night prior for specific information. Assuming they weren’t being fed false leads, it looked like something had finally gone right.

He nodded at the introduction of the mule and wagon, neither of which were particularly welcome unfortunately. Both would require care, limited their options during travel and made stealthful approach and retreat difficult, to say the least. Additionally, a group of six adventurers was conspicuous enough without adding a mule and ride into the mix. Without using his particular Ki techniques, the party would be the nearest thing to utterly trivial to track by any that wished it. The only possible advantages to having the wagon were the nightly shelter and the additional carrying capacity, but he could imagine precious few scenarios where they would actually need said capacity, especially given the wagon and mule were a mere loan.

At the representative’s prompt for outstanding issues to be brought forward, Hugh cleared his throat and spoke up. “The Sheriff spoke of additional potential rewards alongside the standard gold compensation. Given that he seems a busy man, there was no time for proper negotiations the night prior. That said, having managed to grasp the limits of reasonability, if possible, please convey that I would like to get my hands on some scribing material and the tools of an herbalist. A blank book, quill and some ink is sufficient for the former.” Sipping his tea, Hugh hummed before making a small ‘oh’ of realisation. “Naivara, if you have come to conclude your own request’s revision by now, this is the best time to make it. It’s unlikely that anything that ‘belongs to the forest’ is in their possession, but additional gold can never never quite go amiss, especially if it’s the hands of frugal sorts with few daily expenditures. If not that…” He shrugged. “Perhaps some spell components that you can’t easily obtain otherwise? I hear that’s often an issue for mage sorts.”

Having said his piece, Hugh quieted and leaned back in his chair. Without knowing much beyond the obvious that could be gleaned on a surface level, he had no clue what to recommend her, so he could only hope that his suggestions bore fruit. It would be a shame for her to get cheated out of due compensation.

The general conversation seemed to have turned to how to handle the new burden of, well, a beast of burden now being on their hands. The Cleric seemed a strange mixture between nonplussed and begrudgingly accepting. Victoria seemed just as lost as he was on the absurdity of such a thing even being needed. The Pest was unhelpful. And Kathryn’s own suggestion that they might be better off with her pulling the wagon nearly got an audible snort from him.

A local map of the region wouldn’t go amiss however, despite already possessing one himself. If they could get an extra, wonderful; if not, he’d merely reveal his own.

Personally, Hugh could handle animals just fine… and might end up relegated to such if he wasn’t careful. While he had a general awareness of the proper mannerisms to use and techniques to employ, it was all things he’d picked up from sheer osmosis, not proper training. He had no real skill in the art, just common sense and instinct.

Luckily, it seemed like Naivara would be taking point here. While she claimed to have no real skill with animals, the ability to speak them, most likely through magic, could only help things considerably. And she was a Druid for Hades sake. The very concept that she wouldn’t be better with animals than the rest of them combined was laughable in the extreme.

Almost as laughable as her heavily emphasized “attempts” at subtlety. Hugh managed to merely squeeze his eyes shut and lightly pinch the bridge of his nose, rather than cringing outright.

We’ll work on that. He deadpanned at the guilelessly proud look on her face. Definitely be working on that.
© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet