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8 yrs ago
Current Malfunctioning Space Toilet (favorite death post in RPG) : roleplayerguild.com/posts/4…
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10 yrs ago
Example of a "Character Flaw": roleplayerguild.com/posts/32..
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@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

And another update comes, conveniently on Update Day! Yay! In any case, the weather for this cycle is still being a pain, with just a touch or relief showing. Perhaps an opportunity to plan? Or just one for social niceties. Either way, it looks like the Harvestide Festival has taken a near-mortal blow. Best of luck in the upcoming, and as per usual, please tag me and/or send me a DM in our Discord for questions and clarification, or you believe I missed something in the update that needs addressing. Huzzah!
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Weather: The air is damp and the rain is heavy. The temperature hovers aruond 50oF (10oC), and every so often a rumble of thunder is heard. No bright issuance of lightning saw its way around the seams of the door, nor the shutters. The intensity of the downpour seemed to have hit its zenith; it has not gotten any lighter, nor any heavier, since last checked upon.

Time: It is still the afternoon. Time stretched out through the din of rain and the puzzling out of strange circumstances; likewise dealing with translating double-speak consumes its own tiny bits of time, which adds up.

Ambience: Food is on the table, dominating the center of the simple piece of furniture. Yummy smells and dwindling wisps of steam note its presence even as it is being devoured mercilessly by the party. The rain continues its everpresent white noise upon the roof. Maybe it's this rain that has prevented anyone else from entering the Public House. It would certainly make sense. The fire continues its steady burn as do the lamps, providing ample (if flickering) illumination across the taproom.

*****


Lea and Daisy did their best to distance themselves from the conversation unfolding, only going to far as to grab things from the table or fetch things upon request. They did so quickly and with care, seemingly intent on listening to as much as they could without actual involvement. Observation without participation, as it were.

Robert, meanwhile, had plenty of reactions, even if they weren't amazingly helpful. The spell-caught man had nothing to say to any of Victoria's observations or memories (though he did stifle a facial expression or two, lest he give anything away) and outright had a blank stare for Baronfjørd as his choice of words was corrected. This faded as he continued speaking - the conversation went directly back to the returned missing people and thusly the older barkeep went quiet.

Likewise, Robert remained stoic as Kathryn's conversational points went toward curing anyone who might be afflicted with (alleged) lycanthropy, though a tinge of red flushed his face. Anger? Embarrassment? Sorrow? It was hard to say when the man was trying to keep himself from revealing anything directly. Though he did give the most discreet of nods when the very tall woman assured him that they would get his task done.

An honestly shocked expression crossed the man's face when Kosara brought up the plan of making a lot of noise in front of the silversmith's shop and possibly provoking a fight with the man. His stare, a combination of disbelief and growing anxiety, was not one he could hide as easily. Robert's eyes quickly shifted to the other members of the party to gauge what their reaction to this idea might be.

It was at this point in time that Robert stood from his chair and walked steadily back to the bar. A shake of his head later and the older man refilled his mug of ale. Half of it was downed in a practiced motion, after which he topped it back off and retook his seat near to the party's table. Half was consumed yet again in fast order. Robert then took to sipping. He remained like this until Marita asked him about the Halfling and the Gnome that featured in an earlier conversation under his roof.

Seemingly pleased to be discussing something else, he began to look more relaxed as he spoke. "Samthe Rentman and Carl ...I don't think I ever got his real last name. Samthe: more or less good kid from a prominent local Halfling family. Farmers, own their own land just outside of town a piece. They grow some amazing spicy peppers. I think I still have a pot of their jam... Anyhow, Carl is an outsider that got in good with Samthe. Um, one of those grey-skinned Gnomes that come from deep underground. Put the idea of running off and finding adventure in his head." He gave a small chuckle and continued, "O'course, Samthe was smart enough to figure out a little magic, so, it's not likely he might've cultivated it into something great keeping to these parts. I helped them some. Let them use this place as a base of operations. Even still have some of their gear from when they had to leave. The two of them infiltrated and took down a Thieves' Guild over on the coast. Then Samthe got afflicted with something or another, so they had to travel north of here to find someone capable of fixing it. Last time they came back, they were with a really big fellow who didn't look all Human. Said they were going to help a friend of a friend in a place called Waterside. Not seen 'em since."

"Samthe and Carl did some good in the world, far as I know. One thing about that Gnome, though - I overheard him bein' asked once what he did back home. He said something in 'Undergnome' I don't remember, then said nearest translation was Assassin. He was loyal to his friend, for what that's worth." Robert took another pull from his mug and smiled. "Thanks for asking me something I can answer. I appreciate that."

Outside, the pounding, constant noise of rain hitting roofs and paving stones got just a little quieter, with a smallish rumble of thunder punctuating the precipitating water. It might just be the beginning of the end of this storm. Only the dice can tell.

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Victoria Belmont
Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3
HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A
Location: Neil & Bob's Public House
Action: N/A
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A

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Thoughtful quiet took over Victoria as she pored over the rush of recollection on the subject discussed. A brief spurt of knowledge was enough to get the ball rolling, such as it was, without having to regurgitate all of the information available to her in one large portion. Then, the allure of butternut soup and fresh bread called to her, and the scent of fresh apples. In an attempt to smooth things over with the thoroughly confused staff, Victoria gave a warming smile in their direction and said, "Everything looks wonderful. Really." She acquired a bowl of soup for herself and inhaled its starchy, savory aroma for a moment, showing an expression of contentment. A polite request followed, "If I may? I would be grateful for a pot of good tea."

The request didn't stop her from locating a spoon and sampling a bit of the soup. She was another two spoonfuls in before she remembered her manners, covered her mouth with a hint of embarrassment showing, and resumed at a much more reserved pace. She did take the initiative to grab one of the small loaves for herself. And a napkin. Manners were important, sometimes. It was good to keep in practice.

"I've read a little about them, too. Wererats, I mean to say." If this was the topic at hand, she might as well share a little more. "If it is truly a Wererat infestation, it's unusual. Stories I perused have these creatures keeping their numbers low, and recruiting moreso than just kidnapping and infecting others. This situation feels different. Or the authors missed something; I couldn't say." Slight bewilderment crossed Victoria's features. It was quickly smoothed over by a shrug as she tore off a piece of bread for herself. "This is truly good."

A final point to bring up amid the speculation and brainstorming section of whatever their eventual plan might be, Victoria flatly suggested, "Whichever of us are running that errand with the silversmith, I'm going with them. To hear it, you need someone who can speak to people." She even had a shiny zombie pig as a conversation opener. It could work.

Morty, not having received a mental command nor being in a situation to adhere to standing orders, hadn't moved since he arrived. He remained a meaty monolith with his wrappings slowly drying near the fire.
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Victoria Belmont
Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3
HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A
Location: Neil & Bob's Public House
Action: Skill: Insight, Skill: Arcana
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A

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The sight of the food up close reminded Victoria that she was actually hungry, in addition to being a bit chillier than was comfortable. The fire helped, but the roar of rain on the roof was a very unsubtle reminder that the weather was not overtly their ally that day. She did give proper attention to the party's willingness to mostly ignore Marita's imperative desire to leave immediately, apparently because food was coming; hypocritically this was also the thought process that the Bard had, herself.

When there was an actual, pressing threat, she did hope that they would all exercise more trust in the Cleric's instincts. Also a thought; why she never chose to pick up a bread-and-butter spell like Detect Magic for the same sort of discoveries was beyond her. Perhaps it was the inclination toward magics outside of the average Bard's repertoire that kept her from it. Even so, she could feel that there was a development to pursue in her studies soon. A decision would have to be made. Just not today.

No, today Victoria saw a slew of verbiage from Madame Cleric (and a few inquiries from the others) only to have it returned by a massive ball of wordy confusion from Robert. While she did admire the ballsy way he strode up to a group of armed and armored adventuring types and just sat down nearby, she could barely keep up with the utter amount of doublespeak. She knew that he meant something, and it was even starting to gel, but the best Victoria could claim was that she knew that she knew nothing. Not until the concept of wererats were mentioned, and Robert clearly avoided that word in his ramblings. Between this, and what she had witnessed so far that day, clarity came to her brain.

"Yes! Lycanthropes, but rats. Simply the worst sort of social parasites, hmm... Vulnerable only to magic or silver, though I have heard stories of some who are immune to silver and vulnerable to other things. I cannot recall much but when I was small, there were rumors of a gang of them in a city near my hometown, before they were flushed out." Victoria had magic, to be sure, but she was not confident in her ability to press a lasting attack with it. More than a couple and she would be useless.
@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

Well, we are again. Not a very far step into the day, but what might be a interesting few minutes in the timeline nonetheless. As a DM, I might advise that one reads between the lines for intent, rather than phrasing. That aside, hit me up with questions and the like in our Discord as per usual, and best of luck in the upcoming.

Or to quote the immortal words of Lord Farquaad: "Some of you may die, but it's a risk I'm willing to take."

Huzzah!
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Weather: Thick and heavy rain dominates the atmosphere outside. The temperature is still about 50oF (10oC), and the damp air is noteworthy.

Time: It is still the afternoon. Not much time has passed since the last suspicious event, so here we remain. Again, looking at the levels of light (or lack thereof) is of little help in determining the time of day. Common sense still indicates the early afternoon despite this.

Ambience: The relative quiet inside of the Public House is contrasted by the low, steady roar of heavy precipitation pounding across the roof and streets outside. A bit of projection is still necessary to be heard effectively within the confines of the taproom. The fireplace and various lamps illuminate the surroundings, providing adequate light for all parties despite the closed and shuttered windows and dimness of the open world beyond. A loud, skyward rumble rolled across the clouds above; a piece of ambience fitting the ominous scene inside.

*****


Trays were slid upon the party's table, though it was done with an overabundance of care and worried expressions as the discussion turned to the strange. And to the loud. Both Lea and Daisy forewent the more service-oriented formalities of distributing individual dishes to the people, keeping them on the trays and backing away a few steps. The Human and Halfling employees of the Public House shared a glance at one another but said nothing, waiting to see how this new, loud, and question-raising development played out.

Robert, meanwhile, looked to be judging his words with as much care as a man petitioning an infernal magistrate. Sure, he gave a quick smile of approval when Kathryn translated the word and even a quiet sigh of relief when Victoria explained it aloud (more or less), but following this he really began to verbally skip about. To begin, when Kosara implied that he might be under the effect of a Geas, the older barkeep looked straight at her and declared stonily, "I have no idea what you are talking about." To her idea concerning answering or not answering questions, he continued, "Do you read? I read. I like books. Sloppy writing bothers me, you understand? Leaving gaps in dialogue that you know tells folk the answer anyway? Just kills me sometimes. Sloppy." His words, as he picked them, were precise in a way that frustrated him. The edges of his demeanor frayed with annoyance, and something else - urgency, perhaps?

In contrast, Robert just shot an impatient look at Baronfjørd when his comment about being rude was loosed into the world.

But Marita's climb over a mountain of verbiage provoked a different reaction from the barkeep. He gave a startled look at first which faded into caution, his face locked into near total stoicism as not to react overtly. He did pull a chair from a nearby table and slide it a little nearer to the party's table, which he sprawled into like a man truly wearied. But again, dancing around the meat of the Cleric's monologue, he stated, "Now that's a silly idea - werewolves hiding out in a rural hub town. Doesn't make sense. And I'll tell you something about Jacque's werewolf test - if it's even legitimate - that sounds like a willing, physical yes or no question. Lot of folk I know aren't keen on being pigeon-holed that way. They'd have to have it forced on them, rather than submit. Just on principle. Prideful people in Avonshire." He stared at Marita as he spoke. Again, he seemed to be carefully selecting his words. "I don't speak for our Lea. Daisy, either."

The two women said nothing, but, with fear and worry, gave a nod. Lea reached out her slightly trembling hand to accept the ring as it was offered. They took turns, one after the other, pressing an edge of the ring on the tip of their tongue before offering it back. Nothing seemed to have happened. They both remained quiet, huddled against one another as if bracing for something.

Addressing Kathryn, Robert said simply, "On the subject of silver, I'd talk to a silversmith. That thing I need from Mr. Mallard - I need it before nightfall. My offer's still on the table, literally." He motioned to the stack of five gold coins, right where he left them previously. "He's easy to startle lately. And hard to talk to it you already made him nervous. Whoever wants to go, I'll write you a note."
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Victoria Belmont
Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3
HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A
Location: Neil & Bob's Public House
Action: Arcana
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A

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The chance to regroup was important to Victoria. Running around out in the weather was making her feel disheveled, and in a place that passed for a civilized location amid leagues of farms and open, rolling grass, disheveled was not her goal. Their business was serious and as such she took it seriously, but there was little point in looking like a drowned rat or a wet dog in the completion of their tasks if she could possibly help it. Vanity might have been a weak spot of Victoria's. It was not a fatal flaw as of yet, but it was most certainly an influence from time to time. This was one of those times.

This influence caused her to utilize magic openly for the purposes of ridding herself with the brunt of the rainwater inundating her coat and hat (especially her hat; it was her favorite one and big, purple feathers were hard to come by, damnit), not to mention her more modest silken garments beneath. Maybe that was a mistake. Hindsight was interesting that way. But now that she was more or less dry, had a fire nearby to finish off the rest of the job, and was expecting a warm meal any moment now, she had figured on setting up for a little while. Continue engaging in curious conversation. Socialization was her bailiwick, after all, and she was learning a bit about her companions. A short respite like this was just what she wanted.

Unfortunately, this didn't seem to be in the cards. Not exactly known for her passive observation skills, Victoria had absolutely no idea why Marita suddenly got the idea that leaving so suddenly was a great idea. Her first instinct was to protest. Still, she attempted to play along for the sake of group cohesion while still finding a way to complain. "Can not, um, the task wait for an hour more? Food, fire, quiet? These are beneficial things." The tiniest bit of condescension was present in the last sentence, which quickly ceased when she heard Robert speak. Then she got back on the proverbial clock. Her hand trailed down to her dagger, now much closer then her sword and she even reached a tentative mental tendril out to Morty, who was still standing motionless but at the ready.

Then, to her limited grasp on the situation, a lot of confusing things happened at once. While puzzling this out on very short notice, a chalk word was written and Kathryn beat her to the punch on translating it from Elven to Common. But as there was a pause after Kat spoke the word, Victoria jumped on the opportunity to explain. "Geas ...is a pact. A magically enforced agreement, whether or not both parties actually agree. There are many stories of Fae interactions with mortals. Or Hags, or just powerful enchanters binding others to their wills. Whyever would you..?"

She sat up a bit more, looking at Robert directly though her words were for the others at the table. "Hypothetically, a person directed by a Geas would be compelled to performed named actions. Or specific inaction. An individual affected by this could be told to never speak about certain things, or to crow like a rooster every morning, and if they broke the conditions they could expect pain. Pain and death; and immediately."

Victoria could feel the tension around her grow as she pressed her explanation, the implications of which could be massive and situation-altering if they applied to their current investigation. This could not simply be allowed to... "Ah, the soup is ready!" she declared, her voice and expression suddenly shifting to something bright, bubbly, and optimistic. It was the simple things in life, really, that gave it the most color.
@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

Good day, Edgelords and M'bladies! Another fun filled day of raucous adventure continues in the once peaceful lands of Avonshire, and here you all are to take advantage of the happenings. Now, if that doesn't just beg for jollies to be had so hard you want to smack it in the face with a rolled up newspaper, I don't know what will.

Anyway, thanks to a couple of standard NPC Perception and Insight rolls, a new clue has opened up for potential puzzle-piecing. So now the question becomes: Can you trust the source? Best of luck in the upcoming. Just remember that the weather sucks for everybody and events are both structured (in the sense that a timeline exists) and dynamic (meaning that factors such as action, inaction, weather, and unknown/random factors may influence them). In the end, player decision and the oft fickle Dice Gods will determine your fate.
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Weather: The sky is still dropping buckets outside. Temperature remains around 50oF (10oC), with humidity creeping along at a steady clip.

Time: It is still the afternoon, so far as anyone can tell despite the lack of direct sunlight. The good news: There isn't even a piece of errant glare to sting at the eyes. The bad news: Heavy rain impedes visibility at a distance.

Ambience: A steady drone of water upon wood and stone serves as background noise to what has become a hollow sounding, open public house. While one's ears become adjusted to the noise and can more effectively tune it out, the volume still prompts one to project one's voice to be clearly understood past a few feet. There is still a lack of people inside of this building with the exception of the party, Robert, Lea, and Daisy (though one hasn't seen the latter, merely heard her referenced as being in the kitchen). The fire in the main room is still crackling along and there are a few small lamps about the walls, giving light enough to see by but not overly so; windows have been shuttered against the weather.

*****


Lea balanced a heavily laden tray in her hands as she exited the kitchen. From the look of it, she carried almost all of the food ordered by the party simultaneously. One could look at it and easily come to the conclusion that it was the culmination of the orders in their entirety, but this thought would be banished by the sight of Daisy, the Halfling cook, hurrying out with a basket containing little round loaves of bread in one hand and two covered pitchers of what one might assume to be fresh beverages in the other. Steam rises from the tray in an inviting manner. The two of them paused at the bar to reposition their loads to more effectively get them to the table without incoming catastrophe.

Meanwhile, Robert looked annoyed. He was perceptive enough to have surmised the use of magic just earlier with the unabashed casting of Prestidigitation and was insightful enough to gamble on detection magic utilized more recently. Perhaps another gamble was taken when he moved from behind the bar to begin putting up unused chairs, bringing him into the range of the divination. The reaction he gave to Marita began with a frustrated sigh and an actual, bona fide facepalm. "Don't insult my intelligence if you can help it."

The tone of the barkeep instantly made Lea and Daisy freeze in place, faces showing an even mix of confusion and concern. "Is everything well?" asked Daisy, shuffling uncertainly on her feet.

Robert walked partway to the bar, a weary voice requesting, "Toss me that chalk, would you, Lea?" Still confused, the young Human lady did as asked, procuring and launching said item ordinarily used to change writing on the slate boards behind the bar. A stick of the white mineral found its way into Robert's hand, which he held out to his side opposite from his other hand in a nonthreatening gesture as he made an approach to the table. He hastily inscribed a single word onto the wooden surface. "Can any of you translate this from Elvish for me?" He expectantly and impatiently looked to those still at the table, gesturing at the newly written word in question.

For those characters who are familiar with the language of Elves, the word translates to "GEAS". This can also be guessed with an Arcana check with a DC of 18 (roll in Discord) if they do not understand Elvish.


The older barkeep did not make an attempt to stop anyone's egress, nor did he make hostile movements of any kind. But his voice resounded with the same overt annoyance that has colored his words as he said, "Please tell me that the people sent by Sheriff Arbalest to help aren't morons."

Still highly confused but ever dutiful, Lea and Daisy began to slowly make their way to the table with the many dishes of lightly steaming lunch munchies.
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Victoria Belmont
Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3
HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A
Location: Neil & Bob's Public House
Action: Arcana
Bonus Action: N/A
Reaction: N/A

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The explanation from Marita, concerning their part of the adventure separate from the others, was factually accurate if not quite as flowery in speech as she might have preferred. But not everyone could be a poet, she supposed, and relating the meat of what happened was more important than an entertaining monologue. Victoria was ever the performer, she supposed. Not that the discussion at the table was fully without entertainment value - the fact that Kosara and Kathryn made their move for the Honey Barn was a thing which the young Bard was a little disappointed she did not witness for herself. "I look forward to seeing what sort of place The Honey Barn is. Especially if there is a little coin for my travels to be had."

The other side of that issue was the direct answer to her question about the constable being "grumpy", and details surrounding their encounter. That he received a payoff from a place of questionable legitimacy did not raise her hackles; such things were commonplace and often beneficial to all parties involved, if just a touch shady. But the reports of borderline (if not direct) hostility and an insistence that he would seek out herself and Marita were unsettling. "It was a smart idea to keep away from ...our spot... in case you were followed. Thank you." Diplomatically, Victoria did feel the need to state another point, "We will need to get back in there eventually." This was going to be a problem, and unless she missed her guess, Cavendish was part of this whole business somehow. Now all she had to do was figure out what precisely this business was and how the unpleasant Constable was involved.

More to recent developments, Victoria dedicated an amount of her brainpower to the mystery of the ring that Kathryn brought back from the silversmith's place. Having already taken the same test, if that display was a test of some sort, the act of it puzzled her. What was that supposed to accomplish? The idea that a simple silver band placed somewhere delicate could invoke a reaction of some sort might have merit, though for what and under which circumstances simply eluded Victoria's ability to deduce. Skilled in matters of general Arcana thanks to her specific training, this tiny detail had gotten past her in a way that she knew was basic. Victoria found this annoying. Vexed and wishing to focus on something else, the ordinarily purple-clad Bard focused her attention outward to what was going on in the rest of the Public House.

Robert busied himself with getting rid of the few remaining people in the building. Victoria could have sworn that he saw the man give them coins but could not quite tell what he was saying to them, thanks to the steady roar of rain and their distance from the other occupied tables. But he looked to be intentionally clearing them out. Them, and not the party. This was curious. She almost lay her hand on her sword. When he approached, the promise of free food was taken with both suspicion and gratitude. A girl's got to eat, after all, even if there was something ulterior going on. If said motive was to hire them for a quick and simple delivery job, then sure. "I'm confident that we might find inclination to run your errand, Robert, seeing as you are extending us a courtesy." Quid pro quo, and all that. But suspicions remained. She quickly added, "Perhaps people who were not thrown out of Mr. Mallard's storefront may achieve a more equitable result. What is the situation with the Silversmith? What exactly did you say to him?" Information to build an arsenal for a social engagement were just as necessary as when preparing for a fight, to Victoria's experience.

Answers would have to wait for a moment as Lea came to take their order. The presence of the hardworking, comely young woman gave Victoria a little smile despite the dire circumstances playing out around them, even so far as to allow a little color to rise in her cheeks before she gave some effort to fully recomposing herself. Still, in pleasant, melodic tones, she responded to the recommended repast with a spirited, "Then that is exactly what I shall have, Lea. It all sounds heavenly, thank you."

In the event that anyone caught her sudden change of demeanor, Victoria removed her now drier hat from from the table and shook it a bit, then turned to hang it on the back of her chair in an effort to give herself something to do while conversation progressed. When she was finished, she piped up with, "I am glad to hear that the L'Roses are faring well." A memory crossed Victoria's mind just then; one she had put aside for later, involving little Lizbeth and the state of repair of her favorite purple jacket. This would have to wait a while longer, it seemed.

On the subject of waiting longer, the rain seemed relentless and they had food on the way, so they were staying put for a little bit, at least. This seemed to be a prudent time to engage in a bit of non-business-related conversation. So she settled back in her chair, glad for the presence of the fire, and waited for an appropriate moment to speak. After Kosara related her story, Victoria figured it was as good a moment as any. And with a point in common with the Tiefling lady, she had an opener. Dulcet words flowed from Victoria as she said, "Oh, that's just precious, Kosara! I have sisters back home, too. Three of them. They're the entire world to me." Her tone shifted to something more serious. "I have a, ah... a cousin, as well. His name is Virgil." Victoria paused, as if contemplating exactly how to phrase her next words. When she resumed, it was with precise diction. "He is very much like myself. A Half-Elf. A True Bard; violinist. He studied the philosophies of the Grey Requiem. We even greatly resemble one another." A sigh, and then to the meat of her story, "Virgil was lost to us. I place a high wager on the possibility that, as I continue to walk the path of the Grey Requiem as an adventurer like he did, I will find out what happened. Hopefully by then I will have the ability to do something about it." A smile returned to her face. It was a little colder; a little more ambitious. But at least her spirits seemed improved.
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