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

Update has been updated, ladies and gents. The short version: Everyone qualifies for the full effects of a Short Rest. Sundown is happening soon. You all are alone in the Public House. It's getting colder and foggier, so one can't count on darkvision for distance viewing, and this is the first night of the full moon. Not sure if I missed anything, but it's all there in black and white.

Per usual, please hit me up in our Discord for questions, dice rolls, or the like, and if I haven't covered something I ought to have, let me know. I might not give you the answer you want, but I'll give you an answer. I guess all I've got for you now is:

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*******


A short while had passed with the group doing nothing more strenuous than discussion, grabbing a bite to eat, and resting. The couple of beds pulled into the taproom served well for the purpose of the latter, while the more commercial of furniture (chairs and benches) around the tables were good enough for a weary investigator to take a load off. It did not have the full amenities of the group's home away from home, but it did suffice for the hour.

Speaking of which, within this hour of time the weather outside had taken a turn for the cooler. One risking a look outside would note a lack of wind blowing things about. The rain, a mostly constant feature of the day, had retreated to parts unknown and colder air came directly on its heels. The overall result was a late afternoon/early evening which promised cold and fog, not unlike the previous evening. Mists arose from the leftover dampness of the rainstorm and the very nearby river. It wasn't quite at "pea soup" levels of thickness, though it was a safe bet that this very fate was a likely one to behold in this autumn evening in Avonshire.

Inside of Neil & Bob's Public House, Lea busied herself with small bits of maintenance; cleaning and stocking small things like nonperishable condiments, marrying compatible wine bottles, and tending the fire. She did so mechanically, a series of tasks which came to her naturally. Her profession, one might say; and they would be accurate. But to this last task, tending the fire - Lea had taken up the last two pieces of decent wood left and tossed them on. It was easier to keep a place at temperature than to raise if from a dead cold. She sat heavily in front of the fire for a moment or two, blew out a heavy sigh, and rose to her feet. "Better get it done before nightfall," was all she had said for the last long piece of time, staring at the iron grate near the fire which served as a wood box. She moved silently into the kitchen, pausing just long enough to remove the note left by the Halfling cook, Daisy, from her apron and place it on the bar. Her cup of high-end libation sat next to it, about halfway drained.

Regrettably, mental supplication to one's grandfatherly contract holder did not seem to bear fruit upon this occasion. If listening, said hypothetical power did not provide a clear and interpretable message in return. Not that this was an unexpected result of the attempt and it never hurts to try.

The hour of rest had come to a mutually agreeable end for the members of the party. There stood precious little time before sundown proper, and what rest could be had in this time was achieved. An aura of tension hung over the whole of the Township; a deep and collective breath taken in and held in anticipation of something potentially catastrophic coming to pass.

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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: Morty
Reaction: N/A

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Twice now, the incident right in front of the Public House's doorway was brought back up. Victoria gave half a moment's worth of time to mentally address the event in question, her feelings on it, and a quick ponder as to what she might have done differently. It wasn't the first time that a group of drunken locals prevented her from going somewhere and insisted upon getting certain physical attentions before maybe letting her by. Maybe she should have called for help from her associates inside, if they might have heard her. Perhaps she should have run away. Victoria was fairly spry. But no, she opted to dip into her lesser magics and play up a connection to necrotic powers to frighten the reprobates into leaving her alone. Did she go too far? To Victoria's mind, debatable. Considering the lower profile for which they might have opted, this turned into a solid maybe. But she refused to give any reaction, positive or negative, to either of the two who had brought this up except to give a tiny, sarcastic upturn to the corner of her mouth, followed by a sip of her tea. Arguing seemed counterproductive. Curiously, she tried to put herself in the shoes of either of these other two women, wondering how they might have handled it. Probably with something that played to their strengths.

Now, the idea of planning did seem like a decent way to use their time of rest, so long as it didn't get too animated or involved. A bit of downtime would do her less good than it would some of the others, owing to the particulars of her spellcasting, but one was foolish to not take advantage of a quiet moment when the opportunity presented itself. The particulars of the plan, embryo stage though it was, did not ultimately set to her tastes. Not a great strategist by any stretch of her fertile imagination, she did nevertheless have a thing or two to input. "Remind me again," she said after a time, "who first brought up setting the Municipal Building aflame? I mean, we could, but what else is in there?" Be it profit or innocents on her mind, she didn't reveal. "And what if it spreads? Last resort, then?" Victoria did not wish to openly discredit the idea and trample on anyone's participation, yet at the same time thought the idea needed to be shelved, and fast.

"Nor am I against setting a trap; less chance of getting hurt than a frontal assault." Victoria then sighed. As a Bard, it was her duty to bolster and raise morale, but her mind kept finding the possible negative consequences of the potential plan. "I should imagine that our enemy possesses advantage with both numbers and home territory. Laying a trap (though I must admit that the bait is sterling) runs a risk of being reversed, it seems to me. But I like this better than arson. For now."

Victoria leaned back in her chair and picked up a more or less respectable piece of fruit. "And here's the harder part - for me anyway: This Township is a gem among the rural places of the world, truly it is. And Cavendish must answer for his misdeeds. So if we are going to do something about it, whatever course of action we choose, we must be committed. As far as our contract with the Sheriff is concerned, we have already fulfilled its terms. There is no dishonor in returning with this knowledge, collecting our pay, and moving on." The Bard glanced around the room, really observing everyone within her field of vision before continuing, "I have reasons for wanting to stay. Personal reasons that revealed themselves to me just last night. But I cannot do much on my own, and I fear that something bigger than Wererats growing their numbers is happening." She shrugged, shaking her head to display a functional lack of knowledge and some exasperation at this realization.

The thought crossed her mind, fleeting though it was, that if she were more powerful in her craft she could use the cemetery outside of town to quell the problem readily enough.

As an afterthought, Victoria did address a question left by Kosara: "Oh, the L'Roses are in a Bed & Breakfast a few doors down from the Silversmith, near the bridge over the river." She settled into a sort of knowing smile at the statement. "Lovely people, the L'Roses." One hand strayed to a pouch on her belt, lightly rattling the contents within. "I suggest that we escort them away from this place when it is safer to travel."

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

Here we find the party engaging in Short Rest activities. So far, this has taken the form of unconventional sandwich discussion, a touch of bardic histrionics, a touch of backstory drop, and the gruff lady passing out what amounts to a rare hug. Awesome work, Edgelords and M'Bladies. A cursory reminder that, in this upcoming time, if your characters engage in things which do not qualify as activities permitted during a Short Rest, you will not receive the benefits therefrom. With this in mind, please discuss what you need to about the upcoming festivities either In Character or in our uberspiffy OOC-Lounge in the Discord.

Per usual, for any questions, requests, die roll confirmation, etc, please drop me a message or a mention. I do wish the best of luck to everyone who has stuck it out for this long.
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*******


Lea numbly rose from where she was sitting, still holding that note. She gave attention to no one with anything more than a passing gesture (including a quiet "thanks" to Kathryn for the food) except for Marita. It seemed like shock when she didn't immediately return the hug, but by the time the Cleric had pulled away her arms had risen with the intent of returning the gesture more fully. Though she was late, her intention was obvious and the connection seemed to bring Lea back to a sense of the present, which she used to stand and deal with a few odds and ends around the taproom. She took a taper to the quietly burning hearth fire and used it to set candles alight, placing them in small brass braziers on the tables nearest to the group. She seemed to give some consideration to the brighter lamps nearby, but decided against them. The windows were shuttered and curtains pulled for a reason, and more light than was necessary would be counterproductive to this.

The fireplace, on the other hand, practically requested more fuel. The rain had gone, but it brought with it a chill that was just beginning to creep into the building. With that, she mumbled something about putting another kettle on and returned to the kitchen. The general demeanor was one of a young woman trying to keep busy. This took only a moment, as water was plentiful and the stovetop was good and hot already. Putting a kettle on was as much a chore as filling up a pot and setting it down.

As the party made their plans and had their discussions, Lea wiped down the bar and did the small tasks ordinarily assigned to her when the place was about to close, with a table of VIPs staying late. It was obviously early to do this as, while the sun was in descent, it was not yet nighttime (let alone closing time). With the absence of customers and the looming threats of the evening as yet unfulfilled, one might be forgiven for getting the professional aspect of their day over and done with. It wasn't long at all before the usually cheerful and optimistic Barmaid of Avonshire found herself standing behind the bar, sighing and looking at the note again. She folded it and set it down on the smooth countertop, her other hand procuring a stout drinking vessel. "I really hope Daisy gets back soon," she said, mostly to herself. Another murmur came, this one a little louder, "I might as well enjoy myself a little, while I settle my nerves." The contents of a cask could be heard emptying into her cup; the semi-astute observer could readily see that she had tapped into the hosghead of Rose River Fortified Zinnoberrot.

The shadows deepened and flickered in the room just a bit more as the light of the day softened outside. If viewed from a bird's eye, the overall feel of the Township might seem serene as foot traffic had all but vanished in this once busy settlement, celebratory banners flapping wearily in the light breeze and ornamental displays of the season left to stand lonely from their places of public prominence. The twinge of seasoned woodsmoke and pork fat remained in the air, within those worked log walls which surrounded Avonshire, demonstrating the relentless passion of some of the locals in their pursuit of the perfect hog broil. And somewhere, somewhere within, the quiet assertion of one man could barely be heard ringing out, "G'morning! Nice day for fishing, ain't it? Huah hah!" Though few outsiders might be able to recognize it, this was the look of Avonshire awaiting distress.
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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: Morty
Reaction: N/A

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The mostly constant conversation about appropriate application of the word sandwich, as it related to their more recent escapades with food and personal scores to settle, admittedly did annoy Victoria. Not that she was going to let any piece of that show on her face or in her mannerisms; not voluntarily, at any rate. This was expected, more or less, and was part of a gambit she hoped would move things along to get back to the Public House when she playfully said that she knew a good place in town to catch a bit of lunch. Now the price of this moment of cheerfulness had to be paid for with mild annoyance. Being honest, it could have been much worse.

Worse, in this case, might have been the novice adventuring group she had been with before this one. Victoria's thoughts went back into her career as an adventuring Bard at its outset, and the people with whom she associated at that time. One was far more morally grey than herself, another with a penchant for sociopathy as it came to sentient life, and yet another who enjoyed using magic to set things on fire. The incident which made them part ways seemed as much a blessing as it was a curse in hindsight, purely for the reason that it gave her an excuse to leave. Victoria had been a solo act for a while following this, and now seemed to have fallen in with this group. Temporary or not, whichever case it might be, deep down she preferred for herself to be the most ethically questionable member of the group. As long as she set the lower bar, there could be a greater element of trust and a touch more patience for the party's hi-jinks. The ongoing sandwich debate was, in this context, a fine point over which did not merit quibbling.

As it turned out, Victoria did lend a hand in the kitchen, putting things on trays and bringing them out. When she returned for the final time, she observed that Lea wandered just away from the others in the room, she had a piece of paper that she had picked up in the kitchen that Victoria hadn't gotten a chance to read for herself, and that the others were still talking about what is or is not a sandwich. Still, she kept her spirits to the positive, mentioning to Kosara as the last serving dish hit the table, "See? I told you I knew a good spot." It was delivered with a wink and a mischievous expression. To her inquiry as to whether Cavendish, in so many words, had a magical Patron, she responded with a more pragmatic, "To hear it indirectly described, I should say so. But you are more of the expert than I."

She gave an attentive listen to Baronfjord as he explained in a general way the manifestation of his astral arms. It was just general enough that she didn't fully comprehend the basics of it, until she heard the last part of his explanation concerning energy, training, and meditation. Then it dawned on her that this was one of the abilities which might avail themselves to a Monk, just not of a discipline that she had personally encountered as of yet. She gave a marginally understanding nod to her Dragonborn companion and returned her attention to the table. She recovered a thick piece of buttered bread, a piece of fruit, and a cup of tea for herself. "Maintaining my girlish figure," she explained to no one in particular. Her real reason was to avoid excesses before what might be a hard night, and vanity was an excellent, particularly believable cover for someone like her. Victoria pulled her seat out a little, angled so that she had a good line of sight in Lea's direction if she so chose. But to business: "I would take Kathryn's assertions a step farther, and assume that we will be sought out sooner or later. Have we an idea as to what we wish to do this evening?" There might be merit in holing up and staying defensive. Or going the opposite route and attempting to strike at a target, if they had something solid to name as target-worthy. All the same, Victoria's eyes would occasionally slip toward the paper Lea held and continued to look at. "For now, let us take a moment to breathe, recover our weapons, and see what happens next." She raised her teacup to her lips and took a slow, soothing sip, exhaling a pleased breath upon lowering. "This is actually fairly lovely tea," she appraised, moving to sample from her cup once more.

Morty stood dumbly, giving no outward reaction to the fact that its standing orders were just changed by a simple mental command from its purple-clad master, who was innocuously tasting the local tea and conversing.

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

At the risk of being terse, the Short Rest is upon you. Characters doing anything aside from shot rest approved activities will find themselves without the benefit therein. Talk amongst yourselves, prepare for what might come in whatever manner you choose (within reason), and best of luck. Questions, comments, concerns, etc. can be best put to me in our Discord. Thanks!
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*******


Robert gave a long, hard look at the people gathered in his place of business. These were people he didn't know more than two days ago, with the exception of Lea, and now he was leaving his livelihood in their hands. The decision was made rather quickly and it showed on his face. His very visage seemed to bear the phrase "no other choice" like a huge, white surrender flag. But of the options at his disposal, this was the best. Assuming that they were as well-meaning as they seemed, he place might not even be burned to the ground if he was alive to get back to it. A hard sigh found Bob responding to Kathryn first, using stern words. "NO. Do not come for me. Do not try to help me. Stay away from me until dawn breaks." He held the tall woman's gaze for a moment afterward to hammer his point home.

When dealing with Marita's contributions to the conversation, Bob remained mostly quiet. One might be able to tell that he wanted to say something on a couple of occasions but restrained himself. He had likely already said too much as it was, and in truth dreaded some manner of repercussion in the near future. Between the Cleric's assessment on the situation and Victoria's little additions, the tavernkeeper turned his head away from the conversation, teeth firmly set together. A final look of blessed relief crossed his face when Marita finally said that they had no further need of him. Robert could not help but think that this was a very different position to be in than when he met their group initially.

While he was present for the entire (and to his mind, cumbersome) conversation about the application of sandwich ingredients in ways that did not traditionally conform to the conventional applications of the word, he did an excellent job of pretending not to hear it. It did not exactly bolster his confidence in their ability to handle a threat of the nature they might face that evening, but a tiny glimmer of hope remained that the three of them engrossed in the odd topic might be doing so because of their self-assuredness to achieve victory, and therefore allowed for the painfully trivial to take the forefront of their conversation. A man might carry hope, anyway. Another quick check was made on the silvered chains and manacles in the box, after which he made for the front door. "Lock up behind me," he ordered his employee, Lea. "Maybe you oughtn't go home tonight. Might be safer here, unless you know a better spot." Robert donned a hat and pushed his way out of the front door. Careful looks followed before he strode out of his Tavern and into the softening light of the day.

The open door revealed changed weather conditions. Rain ceased to come down, though puddles remained. The majority of the water, what was left of it, flowed in the general direction of the main thoroughfares. A moderate sized town along a river had to have good drainage, apparently. Bits of sky were visible, too, and a biting wind carried its way inside. If this was a prelude to the weather to come, then it was going to get cold, and probably quickly.

Lea did not speak to her boss, but with tears forming in her eyes gave him a vigorous nod. Yes, she would lock up. Maybe she would stay, even. And yes, she would get these people food, even if they refused to agree on how it should be constructed. "I'll um... I'll just bring some things out and you can do, um, ...do whatever you wish." She was obviously distracted. To Victoria she merely gave an empty nod of agreement, and motioned for her to follow into the kitchen area where the Half-Elf could help with things.

It was but a few scant minutes that she returned with whatever they had on standby, which yes, included fresh fruit, cheese, and toasted bacon for those who might want to run minor (but not inexhaustible) experiments with edible construction. With it was a tureen of stew, a few loaves of coarse but good bread, and tea. Cold and hot water both were in abundance for the meal. The items were brought out with enough haste to make it known that it was not freshly made, but rather held warm for what might have been an expectation of greater amounts of business. Lea possessed a distant look about her as she ferried items from the kitchen to the common area, the only help being what was offered from within the party. If Daisy was around, she hadn't been spotted.

"Oh, sorry. Some of you wanted to tend to your hurts. I'll just be a moment." said Lea, keeping herself busy as she might in the present circumstances. Simple wound care items found their way out next for those who might have need of them. As soon as everyone was set up with that they wanted, the young barmaid took a loaf of bread for herself and sat quietly nearby, absently tearing off pieces and chewing them thoughtfully. "Pull out some beds if you want, or, um, ... just use the sleeping area. Sheets are fresh." There was no nuance to her words; a mere recitation of information to those who might listen. The pulled out a slip of paper from her apron pocket and inspected it, continuing, "Daisy should be back soon. Help yourself until then, okay?" Her words were deliberate as a free hand motioned toward the bar and kitchen area.

The Short Rest has begun.
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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: Morty
Reaction: N/A

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Robert's words were taken in and mentally digested as best as possible. The implications and ramifications therein spent a few thoughtful seconds colliding with each other in the confines of Victoria's mind, and coupled with what she had figured out on this investigation, came to some pretty horrible conclusions. The Bard herself liked to stay out of situations which did not concern her directly nor which piqued her academic interests, but this was something that she was stuck right in the middle of. The possibility of taking what little daylight they had left and booking it definitely came to mind; before she agreed to accept this job he was headed west to the sea anyway and had no problems continuing with those plans. Something struck her about what all was going on, though. It didn't seem right, even among the obvious horrors going on in this region. She kept her conjecture to herself, quietly waiting for the initial push of their immediate situation to calm some before addressing anyone else.

When Victoria did speak back up, it was to Marita. "I cannot speak for the rest of you," she began, an attempt at humor lifting her voice, "But I look nothing like trouble. I am an absolute delight to be around." She gave a warm smile, whether or not her charming personality took hold of the overall mood of the room (which she suspected that it wouldn't), and then completely changed the script. "And what if Cavendish is upholding the law, Pholtan Barbel?" Her tone was inquisitive, maybe even a little challenging, but not judgemental nor accusatory. "What if he is upholding an ethic or a code, but not the one he swore to when becoming a Constable? I find it hard to believe that a man suddenly granted magical ability does not have the yoke of another's doctrine upon them. But I agree, he cannot be ignored."

What she said next surprised her a little. "This place was beautiful and fun; full of life and music. I danced around the square's fountain yesterday and ate one of the nicest blush pears I have ever tasted. I met a sweet but sad little girl with ...potential I'm not sure she realizes... and her very generous aunt. I sang in a cemetery with new friends and made memories that I shall commit to paper, that others might share a shade of my contentment. No one in Avonshire has come at me with torches, no Cleric of Light sought to remove me with force and holy water. This man, Cavendish, and whomever or whatever pulls his strings has tainted this place in the middle of a time of community and joy. Some things must eventually be answered for." A sense of resolve followed her words. No, she would not be running for the coast like she had planned. Even if it went against a tried and true survival strategy. In that moment, she remembered a similar mistake from a couple of years ago which brought her to an interesting predicament which still haunted her.

The words settled for another few moments, during which Victoria shuffled her cloak about to more evenly dry, applying a bit of care to the fine garment. She sighed. A little drama never hurt anyone, most of the time. But she meant it. A short chuckle later she looked to Baronfjord, to whom she has asked a question and likewise had been asked one. To bring the overall feel of the room back to one of general rest and/or guarded relaxation, she opted to answer first. Sweetly, but with direct words, she ripped the cover off of one of her personal truths, "Why, I am a True Bard. I recognize the music inherent to the world around me and apply it to magic, creating effects that others versed in the Art might require a notable bloodline, or years of arcane study to accomplish. The philosophy of my chosen College flavors the effects which I can accomplish, which in my case is the College of the Grey Requiem. It channels certain emotions and powers associated with... well, with the celebrations and sorrows of one's life, death, and what lay between these states of existence. We see to the fallen and respect their beliefs, occasionally borrowing the wisdom of those who came before or utilizing that which is left behind. Some of the more powerful can perform other acts, as powerful as it is questionable by those who consider themselves righteous." Okay, maybe she was getting a little flowery. To summarize, "Much of what we do is a form of Necromancy, with many aspects common to Bards of Lore."

She might get an answer back, but for now Victoria bent a little attention to a slightly overwhelmed Lea. "Let us keep talking in a few moments, Master Dragonborn Excuse me, please?" The others were discussing the more intricate protocols of sandwich making and/or what constitutes one in the first place, not to mention firing off specific orders which didn't quite fit the menu. She looked to the barmaid, blushed just a little, and said, "We'll work something out, Miss. Of course we will! If your friend Daisy is still back in the kitchen, I'm sure she can handle it. If she is not, I'm sure I can help put a few things on a plate or bowl up some of that yummy stew from the last time. You still have that, don't you? It was delicious." Her tone was soft and reassuring, her words kind, her body language subdued and non-threatening. "Maybe we can all sit down and have a sip of something fine and calming in a bit, yes? I think you've earned it."

As usual, Morty just stood there. He was out of the way and seemed very content to do so.
@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Arty Fox

Hello again. Here I am, writing an update. And here you are, reading it. I guess that works out for us all. ANYWAY, this is a time and place that a Short Rest is possible if you want to take it. If asked, the tavern will have a few things to help bandage a wound and/or patch someone up. There is food and drink here, and while not as defensible as the Silversmith's place it isn't terrible. There is time for upkeep and discussion if desired, and even the resources for a decent nap. Do try not to oversleep.

Per usual, please be in touch via our Discord for all manner of question, comment, or die roll. Remember that the town is going through a series of events behind the scenes and situations are dynamic in nature. Oh, and best of luck to us all.
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