Sigil

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Weather: The temperature had officially slipped from cool to cold as the sun set, the beams of light cast from the fiery if muted orb being the principle reprieve from the season's general lack of warmth. Without this small mercy, the unseasonable drop in temperature became quite noticeable. If it continues, then the evening will readily mirror the previous one.

Time: It is frighteningly close to dusk. Were it not for the last bit of the day's light illuminating the fog above the rooftops, one could easily assume that night was upon them.

Ambience: The rain had been gone for some time, yet dampness remained in the relative still of the coming evening. It could be seen in the puddles upon the streets and alleyways of the Township, the occasional drip-drip-drip from slick, wet rooftops, but most especially in the return of the oppressive fog which had made its way back to this locale. The retreating orange and purple hues of the evening gave a deceptively soft, peaceful trace of color to the mists rising above the buildings. While one still cannot see townsfolk milling about during what was supposed to be a big festival of Harvestide plenty, one might detect noises coming from a few of the buildings they were passing by. Generally, they did not sound celebratory.

One can still pick out motes of smoke and porkfat wafting from elsewhere within the walls of the settlement. The apparent determination of these people was as admirable as it was foolhardy.

*******

The walk back in the direction of the silversmith's shop was not overly eventful, except for the notable rustle of movement coming from the less illuminated parts of their path. It was occasional at first, growing to frequent as one's steps took them further and further away from the perceived safety of camp and public house, both. The source of the sounds never come into anything which resembles a clear view or open space, making identification difficult at best. Very soon the subdued motes of movement become an almost constant companion to those outside, begging a question or two.

The fog does not allow for a lot of distance vision, which is perhaps as much a blessing as a curse. After some doing and only one or two missed turns, the exterior side of Mr. Mallard's shop came into view. The overall feel of the location has some differences from the last time it was viewed by the party, mostly due to the darker lighting and fact that there isn't a living soul around to be seen. The dull orange illumination from the small pot forge which could be seen around the cracks is still present and glowing within, even easier to see now that the ambient brightness of the land was fading. Tiny trails of smoke continue from the chimney, and if it weren't for the oppressive nature of the evening it might even seem homey, in its own way.

In the distance, beyond what can be readily viewed, the river runs smoothly, casting up the burble of water flowing. Even this does not fully quiet down the movement that maintains distance just beyond that of visual perception. It may be noted that around this building, it sounds quieter and farther off. The moon is clearly visible now, round and heavy, waiting for the last rays of its brighter sibling to depart. It did not have very long left.

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: En Route to Silversmith's Action: N/A Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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Victoria didn't notice that she was alone outside at first. There was Morty, but with the exception of actions taken by predetermined command in response to specific situations, all he was going to do was follow along dutifully. Not exactly what one called company. So those determined steps walking from the Public House to Mr. Mallard's place slowed somewhat, a quick glance payed in the direction from where she had just traveled confirmed that indeed, she was the only one out there at first. It was a little eerie, being the only one in sight during what was supposed to be one of the big regional festivals, made moreso by the absence of the others in her party. Luckily she didn't have to pause her forward momentum for very long as the familiar forms of Kosara and Kathryn appeared in the doorway; the former before the latter.

The brief overview of the plan as of yet from Kathryn gave Victoria a momentary point of indecision. "That is the plan. I have my misgivings, but when it comes down to hard reality, we can only protect a small number of people. A few is better than none." A shrug and a smile both issued from the purpley Bard; a piece of forced nonchalance while walking headlong into a situation that practically begged for something unfortunate to happen. As it was, even if they were able to pack their established (hopefully) safe area full of townsfolk and even moreso, if they were able to keep them all free of harm, there would still be a disaster to deal with on the outside. Safety, neither theirs nor the people around them, was guaranteed. Nor likely. Bad things were going to begin very shortly.

Kosara's suggestion of providing some magical light now that night was coming sounded helpful. To Victoria, it sounded just as helpful to whomever might be after them as well as themselves. "It sounds like an excellent way to stand out. Though, Lady Kathryn might have a harder time of it when night does fall." Of course, Victoria mentioned Kathryn because she was right there with them, but it got her thinking about Marita. She was also a Human. And the Dragonborn - could they perceive things in fog and darkness? Was she being a little self-centered in automatically assuming that the offered light would be a hindrance more than benefit?

Victoria gathered her wits about her and mentally reined Morty back to a heel. She casually lay a hand atop the hilt of her sword and drew it from its sheath, giving a note of admiration to the work of the reclusive silversmith. They were out there for a reason, and it was best it have it done rather than stand about talking on the matter. "Whatever you wish to to. Let us just do it with haste." Now that there was more than just her out in the fog, Victoria felt a little bolstered - enough so that she returned to her original action of moving in as direct a path as possible to the silversmith's shop.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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

Well, here we are again! The update is short this time as not a lot of declarative action has taken place and everything that needed description has been described recently. With this in mind, I will field any and every question about the environment, the goings-on, or whatever else your character would be able to suss out from the details around.

If the group would like to move with what seems to be the consensus plan, let's hammer down what that is in the Discord OOC and I will set the next update to the task. Otherwise, do what you might with the information provided. And best of luck. Per usual, DM me on Discord or use our OOC there for questions, comments, rolls, etc., and have a spiffy day and/or evening.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Neil & Bob's Public House, interior

*******

What rest could be had in this relatively shorter time was had for those who took the time to do so. Admittedly, it helped some more than others, but any time to collect one's self and suck in slow-moving oxygen in peace was a good thing. Add some local fare to warm one's stomach and a fire to bring life back into weary limbs, a person might feel truly refreshed regardless of more tangible recoveries procured by others.

Outside, the moon stood in the misty blue sky, barely visible through the haze of fog and the time of day, as it was still day for a little bit yet. The nearby celestial body was wide and round, seemingly peering down upon its terrestrial cousin with quiet, noble contemplation, unaware of what havoc to which it might be unwillingly a party. A sort of disembodied anticipation had bceome commonplace in the Township of Avonshire, now set to tension rivaling the tautest of harp strings.

Inside of the Public House, all was quiet except for the motions and words of the eclectic, stalwart adventurers present. It was warm and illuminated by soft candles and hearthfire, with the smell of good food, tea, and wine still lingering, if only slightly. The unused tables were clear, as was the bar with the exception of the note from the Halfling cook. This silence of word and deed was pervasive, as Bob excused himself to his home for the evening, Daisy had yet to be accounted for, and Lea had stepped into the kitchen some time earlier. Even when her name was called upon, she did not answer, let alone make her way back into the taproom.

Twilight was fast approaching; following this was the inevitable night. With this came radiance and clarity of the full moon, with every implication that meant in this cursed place.

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: Neil & Bob's Public House -> En Route to Silversmith's Action: N/A Bonus Action: Morty Reaction: N/A

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It was just the five of them now, sitting alone in what looked to be an abandoned Inn, except for the telltale candlelight. And Morty, though in any traditional sense one really couldn't count her preserved, porcine companion. Pure semantics, Victoria told herself, giving an ounce of concentration to the words of her fellows as they decided what to do. Time was running very short, and unless a practical idea was about to enter collective implementation, the Bard wasn't sure what course she was going to take. But is was going to be something, and soon.

The words of their more recent Dragonborn associate piqued her interest first. She wasn't fully aware of what he meant by consecutive full moons but figured it was a colloquial way of addressing the evenings of that moon phase. It made sense under that context. And he was right; those evenings did seem to agitate the lycanthropes, at least from the stories she had been exposed to. Her concentration began to drift as he queried where the Constable might have learned magic. So far as she was concerned, they could dig up Cavendish's corpse and ask him then, provided she had acquired the magic to do so. It was only a matter of time.

Kathryn's words which stunningly agreed almost in lockstep with her own did much to draw her attention, however. And she spoke with words that hinted at a plan. Not quite with as much flash and fanfare as she might have gone for herself, but a plan nonetheless that sounded like it had actual merit. Victoria had her worries. Holing up for the night meant that the first evening of the full moon would involuntarily transform everyone who had been affected and send them on a potential rampage, either under the sway of others or running about in utter chaos remaining to be seen, and they would be leaving the Township to whatever fate was to befall it without their assistance. It was folly to charge out with nothing else going for them, in the defense of this plan, but it did seem like a idea designed to save themselves in the meantime. Conceptually, Victoria had no problems whatsoever with this last part.

As they all shared their hopes and opinions, Victoria rose from her seat and finished the last, room-temperature drops of her tea. She crossed over to her charcoal grey, purple-lined cloak and arranged it around for bit, testing its level of dryness from its time in front of the fire. Satisfied, she slung it over the back of the chair that she had been sitting in and, after a brief moment to admire the new alterations to her weapon, buckled on her swordbelt. Her stylish but utilitarian dagger found its sheath next to her sword, and with a distinct flourish, Victoria's very jaunty, plumed, epically brimmed hat (which screamed BARD with many voices in unison) was lain atop her head in such a way that allowed her perfect, red-auburn hair to compliment it. These were the actions of a showperson readying with determination. And panache.

Another odd quality to her demeanor as she buckled and donned was a curious humming coming from her lips. The situation had reminded her of a tune she learned ages ago. After a few seconds, deathly quiet words spilled from her with effortless, graceful melody:

"...out of fear, we kept running;
Tried to hide away.
Can you hear? War is coming;
Beckoning our fate..."

She trailed off into a dulcet series of non-syllabic notes again, humming and trailing off. Motivation of self, likely, or some other reason as yet undisclosed to anyone else.

This was soon interrupted by the explosion from Kosara as she leapt from her seat in revelry of the realization of the probable nature of Cavendish's abilities to harness magic. Victoria's eyes swept across the room and over to the sparsely clad Tiefling and, upon taking the sight in, averted her eyes with the tiniest amount of blush to her cheeks. Ever the consummate performer, she could readily suppress this and did so. A spot of luck put it that the pretty barmaid was nowhere around as she had invoked a similar response earlier, and silently she chided herself for becoming unfocused at a crucial time. There had to have been something wrong with her. "Absolutely correct, yes." At least she figured.

But speaking of the young barmaid, Lea had left the room and had not returned yet. Victoria focused on this and scanned around, hopefully distracting her long enough to continue her train of thought and subsequently following actions. Centering herself, in a way. It was helpful enough. The Bard slung her violin case over her shoulder and moved it to her side opposite of her sword and deftly slipped her cloak over her stylish, reinforced leather armor and slim, purple jacket.

"Not long now," she said in a clear, even voice while walking towards the door to the town outside. She lay a hand on the pommel of her sword, continuing, "...until we see what shall happen." Her hand lay her hand on the portal and unlatched it, peering outside through a crack. "The Bed & Breakfast is nearer to the river. Let us get your mace back, Marita." She pushed the door fully open and strode out into the deepening fog.

The stone-still, burlap-wrapped form of Morty shuffled once, as if to reassert its animation. The clicking noises of hooves upon wood sounded as the beast trotted to catch up to its mistress.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@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:

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Neil & Bob's Public House, interior

*******

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.

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: 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."

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

@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.

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

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Neil & Bob's Public House, interior

*******

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.