Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: Brindleton's Woodworking Action: Help (Investigation for Marita) Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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The fact that Marita blatantly ignored the message of greetings, passed along by Victoria herself from her faithful servant Morty (despite the fact that it was obviously a silly lie) gave the Bard a hint of a smile. She might call it a little fun at no one's expense in particular, but being completely fair, she did have a decent idea how much Marita disliked the signature trick of her College of Bardic Study. The thought passed briefly how the group might handle being in the presence of a group of people like her, with their undead personal assistants, trading pieces of lesser known funerary music or stories of Necromantic practices. They could be a somber lot sometimes. And sometimes when they weren't... It was best left unvoiced among her new companions.

Victoria shuffled off these thoughts, amusing as they were, and set herself back to the work at hand. Morty followed at her heel and slightly off to the side, as held to the standing mental command the animated beast had received. It stayed with Victoria in this manner as she led Marita through her observations of the woodworker's place. "I cannot speak to what Rickard might have uncovered," she explained, "as he removed himself from the building without telling me a thing. But he gave a quick search to the private quarters, up those stairs. I shall give you a hand if you like." The only thing she might do was retrace her steps, maybe try to see what details the Elf might have also seen, but this was primarily up to the fresh set of eyes on the scene - Marita. And yes, she found something ominous.

This brought about a sigh and a rare serious look from Victoria. She shook her head and walked back down the stairs, into the main area. Completely off topic, she mentioned, "You know... this place might make an excellent fallback. The man who owns it is missing, and if we can secure the doors... It's not like anyone but Rickard knows that we were here, I think. Hmm." She shrugged. There was probably a flaw to her logic somewhere if she looked hard enough. But maybe a nugget of truth might be dug out of this as a desperate Plan B.

This flight of thought passing, Victoria walked back to the workshop area and found a chair to rest upon. Morty followed, of course, though rest was not a thing he required. "I must admit, this is not my favorite part of an adventure," she said in melodic tones. "I still think there might be something else to this place, but I can be the meticulous sort when druthers take me. What course of action would you prefer to do next? If it were purely up to me, well... It's probably more responsible that it is not." Shallow and light-hearted words to partially cover for more serious internal brewings. "Obvious cleanup job, scratch marks, hair. People going missing at night. I hope the others have found out more than we have."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Arty Fox
Your numbers look a little off. Before racial modifiers, the sum of your ability scores should be 78 (Barring the ratio change for increasing a second stat past 15). Dragonborn gets a couple of bumps, too.

As far as Astral Self monk goes, that one's in Tasha's if memory serves, so it's all good. But as you don't have access to Astral Self monk in D&DB, maybe Myth-Weavers would provide a better format. One man's humble suggestion. In any case, I do want a complete and accurate CS before I can consider the character for our tiny splash into what awfulness may soon occur. If you have a third online option with easy access, I am open to learn about it.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil

And we are good to go, Theydies and Gentlethems. A nice, rousing game of "What The Hell Just Happened?" for one and all. Hopefully one might begin to put a couple of pieces together, with more fuzzy puzzle bits to come! Yay! In any case, it's good to see us back into the swing of things after the absence, jumping immediately back into our seven day rotation with zero issues.

Also, a quick reminder that the NPCs, while not as amazingly developed as our playable characters, do have their own motivations and will act according to those motivations, accented by the occasional die roll when interacting with the PCs. Interactions, social or physical, will have results appropriate to the NPC and their own interests, be they a little vague.

Per usual, questions, comments, and concerns will be addressed in the OOC or in our Discord, and have a spiffy day.

@Arty Fox

Apologies for not getting back to you before now. I have no idea how your post got overlooked in the shuffle. We are presently taking applications and do not necessarily require any character type in particular. If you wish to apply via character creation, please follow the instructions in the original OOC post and feel free to ask questions in the meantime. I will note that new submissions are not guaranteed entry, and if they are, said characters will come in when it is thematically appropriate to do so.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: Though the sun is bright and relatively warming against the autumn winds, it is more often than not covered by a layer of blanketing cloud cover. It has officially moved from partly cloudy to mostly cloudy. Those with a head for weather might have some predictions for later in the day. Winds pick up, bringing in the scent of atmosphere.

Time: Mid to late morning. Depending upon how long one took to search, prowl about, question, or otherwise investigate things, we are hovering in the busier part of the ante meridiem.

Ambience: Things are picking up. The Township has come blaring to life, especially along the main roads crossing the cardinal axes of the soon to be bustling area. Businesses are up and going, hawkers and selling wares in the mercantile places in town, and both the Farmers' and Traders' Markets are coming to full swing. The campsites and wagon clusters outside of town have begun to empty into the places behind the walls, bringing with them money, clamor, and opportunity. The streets and any buildings open to the public are now occupied; privacy is not something one will find casually. The "party", such as it is, has not started and likely will not for some hours yet.

Brindleton's Woodworking

Marita's entry to the building occurred with nothing in the way of fanfare, though the value of one's presence rarely is recognized without the benefit of hindsight. Much to the credit of this median observation, a short time would tell whether the Cleric would make a noteworthy difference. The information provided by Victoria gave a decent enough starting point. Readily viewable was the subpar job someone or something did cleaning up after themselves, though it was a good enough job to obscure the subject of their hurried janitorial duties. In short form; neither the Cleric nor Bard knew what was cleaned, nor the significance thereof.

Away from the work area and out into the warehouse/sales floor, the furniture looked completely untouched. Nothing strange about anything here, nothing soiled or stained, etc. And nothing sloppily cleaned up by domestic amateurs. Nothing particularly out of place in the living area, either. All in all, nothing outside of the door and the workshop seemed remotely out of place.

That was, until...

Marita's discovery served as an oddly shaped piece of a jigsaw puzzle that didn't quite fit into what was already put together. The habitable areas and workshop contained places where money or foodstuffs might be held by normal people going about normal lives. Cabinets, a small pantry, a lock box behind the counter; things of this nature. They had all been emptied. This might be common for a robbery, or for looters after the fact. But what was not so common about this was the fact that the interior wood of those containers was gouged with deep scratches, like something with claws or sharp nails had emptied them quickly.

Jacques Mallard, Silversmith

Jacques nodded soberly at Kathryn's expressed desire to not have bloodshed, but he did not waver in his attentiveness to his own defense. His eyes darted between Kathryn and Kosara, peering seemingly to pick out even minute detail before humoring to drop a sliver of his guard. When the tall warrior placed the ring on her tongue and kept it there for a time, his face visibly softened into something like cautious relief. he nodded again, now turning his full attention to Kosara.

The silversmith did his best to maintain his composure while he waited for the Tiefling to place the ring on her tongue, giving no outward indication that he might address her questions before this event took place. Satisfied by whatever result this challenge presented, he moved his crossbow's business end to the side, so that it did not point directly at either of the two women in his establishment. Actual, full relief crossed his features as he let out a breath and prepared to address his visitors.

It was about this time that Kosara began the bulk of her monologue that took them all on an interesting verbal journey, much of which was completely without context for Mr. Jacques Mallard. He flashed with confusion at the mention of "Mr. Cloverwish", and seemed fully disturbed by the accusation that he was up until recently a prisoner. Jacques began to slowly back up toward the counter, a look of pure shock and incredulity plastered across his features. His mouth moved briefly and soundlessly for a moment until he was finally able to clearly enunciate: "Get out. Both of you, right now. Get out."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: Brindleton's Woodworking Action: N/A Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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Victoria gave a lingering look back to Rickard as he suddenly had someplace else to be. Had he found something that was more pressing to his personal task? This and a few other questions pressed into her mind until a simple fact about her situation came alight within the Half-Elf's awareness: She was alone in a building which did not belong to her, where someone was likely taken against their will, which was hastily and sloppily covered up. Victoria was no great pillar of sage wisdom (elements from her history led to to this painful but obvious conclusion), but even she could figure out that, were there nefarious forces about, she would be an obvious target for their attentions. No, it was probably best to get herself out into the public eye with measured haste. Sometimes her ability to draw attention to herself kept her safe. Safer, anyway.

The noble-born Elf had left before he divulged any information about what he might or might not have found throughout his investigation, which left the now quite solitary Bard at a disadvantage. This thought was blunted slightly by the logical understanding that she was technically not alone. Her eyes dated briefly down to her undead companion, Morty, who was standing very still with an vacant expression on its burlap-wrapped, hickory-smoked visage. Okay, so the creature was as dumb as a sack of hammers and had no initiative on its own aside from following the standing orders of its creator, but the poor mockery of life had its uses. A meatslab bodyguard with tusks was better than nothing at all.

There was also the fact that Rickard was the only one with a key to the woodworker's shop, so if she left without securing the place somehow, there would be no whisper of a guarantee that more wouldn't happen in their absence. Victoria looked about, annoyed at the obvious and poor job of cleaning which was done. It was insulting, really. And if anyone with nefarious intent showed up to complete the job, then what clues might have been left stood a greater chance of disappearing. Sighing, Victoria crossed over to the work area of the shop and snatched up a piece of furniture fabric. She carefully used it to gather up the bit of scraggly hair which was caught on the interior door lock. There wasn't a thought as to what she might do with it later on, but it seemed like it could be used as a comparison piece, provided they found something similar elsewhere. Victoria's grasp on divination was simply not suitable to the task otherwise.

Movement from the other side of the slightly ajar door caught Victoria's attention. She mentally summoned Morty over to her in case it was something more dangerous than a local shopkeeper or laborer and slowly pushed open the door a little bit more, ready for whatever might come next.

Her careful expression turned to something more pleasant when she saw that it was Marita. The door opened more fully and she exclaimed, "Why hello there, Marita!" Victoria continued, "However did you find this place so quickly? Well, no matter. I couldn't find a whole lot in here..." A thoughtful look crossed her visage as she debated saying anything else in what was open public, even if foot traffic was sparse in the area at that point in time. The Half-Elf dropped the volume of her voice a little and stepped closer, informing, "The dressmaker's place is supposed to be around here, I think. Unless you would prefer to put a fresh set of eyes on this place?" She carefully produced the hair wrapped in fabric to show briefly before putting it back away, her voice quieting even more, "All I found was this, whatever it means. And I think someone has been in here since yesterday. I might ask the Lord High Elf about the implications, but I believe that he might have parted ways with us."

The undead pig remained quietly at Victoria's heel, awaiting orders. She glanced down to it, then back up to Marita. With a whisper and mischievous smile, she quipped at a half-whisper, "Oh! Morty says 'Hi'."

Morty, well... he just stood there.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil

And welcome back! The shiny, new update is up and there is a bit to respond to. For anyone who was not fully aware or hasn't seen the Discord for a while, we are now short one frontliner. Said frontliner's player has departed voluntarily and on good terms; should they wish to re-enter at a later point in the adventure, all is peachy.

Counters got a little funky there for a bit, but rest assured everyone is in good standing in regards to timing and such. I will make a post for Purple Bardy McDeathchick within the next two days to keep things aligned properly in this way.

As per usual, for any questions, requests, and/or skill checks, please send me a line in our Discord. And give yourselves a big round of applause for sticking with it this far! From this point, things start getting weird. Best of luck.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: The day is beginning to look overcast; a sheet of building, atmospheric white starting to crowd out the clear blue of the open sky. The wind carries a bit of a chill to it still, this unchanged from the previous hours. It remains a welcome relief from the previous night. Short form - wear a good jacket. Cloaks are nice, too. Stylish, even.

Time: Early to mid morning. This is about the time that people have finished doing what personal business they might have and turned their efforts toward more professional pursuits. A few more festival visitors, emboldened by the increased activity, have ventured into the more public places of the Township.

Ambience: Vision is open and unlimited, the fog having been burned away by the brighter rays of the sun just before the sky became more overcast. Parts of the town are still quiet, as suits their druthers, but others are much more active. The Traders' Market is much more lively now, as goods are moved to and from boats, carts, and the like for transport. Money is changing hands in this beating, economic heart of Avonshire proper. The Farmers' Market is likewise coming to full activity. One close by might hear hawkers a'hawking the fruits of agricultural labor (literally and figuratively) as well as the sounds of tools at work. Individual bartering sessions are had among the working classes. Tents, used as cheap lodging by many, are being vacated for the day. The overnight buildup of litter is likewise being handled here, and the smell of smoking meat hangs heavily in the air, gusting with the capricious winds.

Brindleton's Woodworking

The interior of the woodworker's shop remained as still and quiet as it ever was, with the only noise coming from the pair of adventuring types within its walls. There was a seeming pause as Victoria pointed out the tuft of stringy hair caught on the door lock. Rickard took note of this for a moment, and instead of moving to get a closer inspection as his thoughtful expression might have suggested, the highborn Elf darted back toward the work area within the building. There wasn't an explanation given for the behavior, nor the sudden, voluntary removal of himself from the side entrance except for a genuine but rushed apology, describing a need to hastily look into something by himself.

Meanwhile, Marita had decent success taking in the sights and posing the occasional question to local folk who might have seen Victoria about town. It wasn't very hard, considering the fact that her style of dress was unusual for the area, her accent was foreign, and she had some of the most strikingly appealing features that these people had seen in their lives. The fact that she carried a sword and violin made her stand out, as well. Suffice it to say, it wasn't very long until Marita caught full view of a sign on a warehouse structure in the northwestern part of town which indicated that this was indeed the building that belonged to the man Rickard was speaking about the night before.

This is confirmed almost immediately when a very surprised Victoria opens the door to see the Cleric standing there. The look of surprise on her face is evident; this was very likely not expected.

Jacques Mallard, Silversmith

As the case was plead through the door, attracting even more attention from the morning passersby, a small gathering of locals began to form on the street nearby. There was a muffled sound of something falling to the floor behind the closed portal, followed by an equally muffled, "Damn it all!" A few more seconds pass and the voice roars again, "FINE! BACK UP A STEP." There is a note of exasperation in these words.

A wooden sliding sound and a similar hollow thump followed; astute observers might understand that this was a heavy beam used to bar the door against all but the most aggressive of cattle, fitting the standard of establishments which dealt in precious metals. Ominously, ponderously, the heavy wooden door began to open. It only came open a little bit, showing a dim orange light from inside. A silhouette of a tallish form can be made out amid the glow, pulling the door open just enough to allow one to pass.

Upon entering, before one has the opportunity for their eyes to adjust to the sudden change in lighting, the voice makes itself known again, this time quieter but no less strained. "You have a loaded crossbow pointed at you. Before you do anything else, there are two rings on top of the storage box to your right. Each of you place one of them on your tongue, and let me see you do it. Inspect them however you wish, but do it right now. That, or leave immediately. Anything different and I squeeze this trigger. Understand?"

The few seconds that it took to deliver this threatening monologue allowed for better adjustment to the lighting. The man holding the crossbow looked haggard. Tired in a profound way, and nervous. Red rimmed eyes glared with desperate seriousness from above unkempt facial hair that looked like it might have been well cared for, up until recently. The air in shop itself was comfortably warm, if a bit stuffy, and the source of the orange glow is apparent - to one side of the open shop interior is a small pot forge containing a respectable amount of molten metal, under which rested a flameless heat source, putting off light as a hot bar of forge-steel might. The rest of the shop did little to resemble a silversmith's, except for a number of showpieces on a table near the front door. The shelves along the walls were mostly barren, and the main counter had upon it weapons. Simple ones, to be sure, but effective nonetheless. Daggers, a spear, and another crossbow. Behind the counter sat a well made couch, upon which was discarded a blanket and couple of pillows that did not match the furniture, themselves. There were other things here, scattered about almost haphazardly; snatches of writings and various items that looked more at home in an alchemist's or talismonger's shop than one who works jewelry and keepsakes.

His stern words pull you back to his initial bidding, "Quick about it! Ring, tongue, now."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Victoria Belmont Half-Elf, Bard, Level 3 HP: 23 / 23 Armor Class: 15 Conditions: N/A Location: Brindleton's Woodworking Action: Perception Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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It was curious to Victoria that the workshop was in the state that it was. Not that she was the most fastidious of people as it came to keeping things tidy, being somewhat reliant upon minor magics of Prestidigitation for her personal needs in this regard. It was still irksome, leaving a job half-finished. The implications, were this a "foul play" scenario, were uncertain to her. In any case, she made sure that the Elf she was presently investigating with noticed it, too.

Just as curious was the fact that she was able to pick up on the detail of the stringy tuft of hair on the interior door lock. Victoria had an inquisitive and detail-oriented mind if she was actively putting effort toward surveying a scene or gathering clues. On the other hand, her attention could be more easily drawn away by shiny objects or the erratic movements of a passing butterfly if she wasn't actively attempting to investigate. Her animated swine might have had better luck with catching a random detail like that than herself. In fact, Victoria took a quick look down to her hickory-smoked companion with the off chance that it was looking in the general direction of ...something important... only to have an expected dose of mild disappointment due to the fact that this creature was only slightly less mindless than a bowl of oatmeal, and thusly had nothing to add in any spontaneous manner.

So she peered at it from a pace or two away, still hanging stuck on the door. Her following words sounded absent, hollow, as if they were not in unison with the thought foremost in her mind, "Yeah... I'll ask some questions around." That was her forte, after all. She mentally filed away the presence of this fuzzy anomaly, wondering if maybe it should be collected, or was better off where it lay.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@Dragoknighte@rivaan@Remipa Awesome@Sigil@Lurking Krog

Attention once again my guys, gals, and theyfolk - the Update has been Updated. Information has been discovered and/or hinted at, and possible paths have opened for those that feel like hazarding courses of action based upon the clues provided. Best of luck.

Now, an announcement: Due to factors social and practical involving members of our jolly little gang of D&D miscreants, I am giving a free week to everyone for posting. The week of the Fourth, point of fact. If you feel like getting a post in during this time, no worries. You will still have the extra time. Or that aside, if you want to just take the time off, go for it. To put it simply, you now have 14 days to post instead of the usual 7 for this cycle.

Please send me any questions or concerns in our Discord.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: A few more clouds rolling in. The wind is gusting every so often, pushing the not intolerably damp, chill air into the clothing of those who have taken to the streets. This is certainly not swimming weather, to put it lightly. At least it is more comfortable than the previous evening.

Time: Morning! Yes, still morning, which is fortunate. Were it not, we would have either traveled back in time or lost a number of hours for which we would need accounting. In any case, we are entering the the portion of the morning where people are becoming more active. At the present, it looks to be a collection of locals going about their business. The more celebratory of visitors to this town have not entered the town proper nor moved from underneath roofs in numbers notable enough to really make a difference.

Ambience: Fog is almost a memory now. For the purpose of mechanics, vision is unobstructed. The sun is a bit shinier now, though incoming cloud cover blunts its warming rays every now and again. Noise can be heard more clearly from the Farmers' Market as those who have business there move about. To the northeast in town, poles and oars in water herald the arrival of goods, raw and worked, to the Traders' Market area of the Township. Avonshire as a whole is waking up and greeting a new day, for now minus the many, many excess festival goers.

Neil & Bob's Public House

The response from Lea, addressing Marita's news that she would likely not be returning for a shift that evening, was met with understanding and a more-or-less upbeat demeanor. "Well that's okay. At least stop back by if you can. I'll treat you to a bowl of hot stew and a glass of something nice."

Robert finished his ale, likely a weaker portion of his reserves (or an Avonshire "Morning Ale", to the locals) in a long pull and moved his dishes to the kitchen. He returned immediately to set up in his usual spot behind the bar. It was remarkably good timing, too, as the man who had run outside just returned, and the greater amount of the overnight guests filed out of the common room; maybe a dozen in total. Most found their ways to the vacant tables, but a few found their way to the bar proper, hoping to chase their maladies with the familiar medicine of fermentation.

Before Lea stepped away to see to her morning duties with these people, she answered Marita. "Andre. Hmm, well..." An uneasy look crossed her face for a moment, and she continued, "Mr. Dufour isn't a very nice man sometimes. I wouldn't call him the 'town drunk'. He does drink a lot though. Um... hmm. I heard he was reported missing after being here, but I didn't do it and I don't think Robert did either. Then again, we're not the only place that sells wine and there are other places that are open even later than we are." She waved quickly to someone at the bar, hastening to attend the clientele. "Excuse me for a moment, please. Hey, can I get you anything while you're here?" She seems open and outgoing, if preparing herself for the drudgery of a hangover shift. (Theirs, not hers.)

Brindleton's Woodworking

The interior of the Woodworker's abode/place of business remained quiet. It is tucked away from the major thoroughfares and thusly much of the noise that might arise from the Township's general awakening, and the building was quite open except for the living area up the stairs. This did have the effect of amplifying smaller noises in within its stone walls, at least now that it was only Rickard and Victoria (and Morty) within.

Unfortunately, there was not a whole lot to be gleaned from the building. To the best of their ability to suss out details, everything looked as it was left the last time Rickard has entered the location, with the exception of Victoria's discovery that the place looked like it had been poorly cleaned. Between that and the unlocked door, it raised questions. Just none they could answer at that time.

Yet, even in seeming defeat, one might realize that questions, however off they might have been, could lead to other, more potentially lucrative questions. Or horrifying red herrings set as stumbling blocks. Victoria's perceptive abilities (not something she was especially known for) key in on an odd detail. The locking mechanism on the inside of the door was adorned with a scraggly tuft of grey-brown hair, hanging listlessly at the mercy of any passing air currents. Curious, the Bard pointed it out to Rickard with a quizzical expression.

Jacques Mallard, Silversmith

Interior Image Not Unlocked Yet

The repeated knocking on the main door of the Silversmith's had not gone unnoticed. In fact, the few (but growing) number of locals milling about on foot had stopped, very interested in figuring out what this growing commotion was along the main road, just across from the mercantile area of town, might possibly be. The unwanted attention and incessant noise along the front door culminates in a loud, seemingly desperate voice from the inside loudly proclaiming:

"CAN'T YOU READ? WE ARE CLOSED FOR THE FESTIVAL! PISS ALL THE WAY OFF!"

Oh, but that got the crowd's attention.