Dima is on the road to Awich. It's early evening and everything seems peaceful. The stars are just beginning to appear overhead. Awich is to the North-East, about two days' walk from him. He notices a sudden stirring in the heretofore-still-bushes behind him, finds that there is a bush moving behind him.
Speaking to the bushes, moving away from the bushes: “Is this a game to you."
When he turns to look back after his unhasty retreat, he'll see shrubs and bushes lining the path; everything is still and quiet once more.
Dima is displeased by this. He asked a question thank you very much.
He scans the bushes. Scans the trees. And, you know what. he's just going to stay where he is for the moment. Hand brushing against his dagger. Listening, listening. And he'll try one more speaking gambit: “If it's money you're after, you'll find it's simpler to ask. I'm in no mood for games."
While he's at it, he’s just going to add in Undercommon, “Fucking noxious prick."
[ q: while dima's looking around, 1) is there anything he knows about this particular path/patch of the trail? news he might have heard? 2) is there any strangeness of sound or silence?
SURV: 13 PERC: 4]
He would know this stretch of road is barely carved out of greater wilderness; however, although many creatures inhabit the area, the ones that live near humanoid-trafficked areas tend to be little more than nuisances. He would also know many travelers have sustained strange slashed wounds, but have all been reluctant to talk about what happened.
Perception-wise, he sees bushes and shrubs.
As Dima stands there, wary (?) and inspecting the treeline, one of the shrubs rustles, its branches beginning to tremble as if jostled by some animal. The shrub uproots itself and moves toward Dima, lashing out with its branches.
Dima casts Chill Touch on the offending buSH. Dima somehow crits the hit on the shrub for 12 damage.
The shrub turns brittle and motionless as though in the dead of winter; its leaves shrivel and shed, and it falls sort of...sideways.
Clearly, he has killed this plant. Well done Dima, Bush Slayer.
Dima would like to inspect the plantly remains and see if he can tell anYthing about the magic animating it? Or rather if there is any trace to tell by?
[ARC: 8]
As far as he can tell, there's nothing interesting about the shrub, and in fact he has no proof he didn't imagine the entire encounter.
Dima kicks the bush's remains. Frozen as it is, it breaks down further into brittle pieces. Like he dunked it in liquid nitrogen and smashed it.
[ …q: can dima scoop up some of the remains in a vial. keep it for later? or for ditching if he gets tired of looking at it ofc ]
It's pretty easy to bottle up. Dima now has a trophy of his first kill of the adventure.
[PERC: 11]
Dima isn't sure, but upon giving a perfunctory glance around the area, it seems as though there are fewer shrubs than before. Almost as though - if there were more - upon perceiving the gruesome death of their comrade, a lot of plants noped the fuck out.
Dima takes this as a sign that he has done his job well and given the shrubs an apt fright!
He nods to himself. gives the bush's meager remains a final stomp. And says not super quietly, "Yes, we'll SEE if you try that again."
Then quieter, to himself, "Godsdamned shrubs. As if any SHRUB were equal to a Voronin.”
The Party Gathers: If a Tree Burns in the Forest...
Following his encounter with a shrubbery, if Dima chooses to continue his journey northward:
As the sun sets on the horizon and the stars appear one by one overhead, there can be seen not-too-distantly the glow of a campfire.
Nearer, it can be ascertained that the fire is about thirty feet from the trail in a clearing, and two figures can be seen seated on stones forming a ring around the firepit.
<.>
He knows he ought to halt his travel soon.
He knows better than to linger long where strangers stay.
But! The thing is. There's nothing furtive about this fire's presence. And it can't hurt to take some measure of whoever, or whatever, is responsible for the fire.
And maybe (maybe!) whoever this is knows something of these pernicious bushes.
So. For the moment, Dima would like to pause where he is, and listen to see whether he can overhear anything, or sense anything odd in the air.
[PERC: 13, with advantage bc dumbass crit failed his first roll]
<.>
Listening, he can overhear the sounds of faint, calm conversation, but can't really determine the subjectmatter. There's nothing exceptional about the site: it appears to be a well-traveled area, used frequently by those taking the road to and from Awich. Of the two figures, one wears a hooded cowl which in the twilight obscures their face; the other's is turned towards their hooded companion and thus their back is to Dima, but from this distance, it's easy to determine their build is slight, perhaps the same height or slightly taller than Dima.
<.>
He'd like a better look at these probable travelers. He'd like to determine whether they have anything worth knowing.
So Dima moves up the path fifteen feet or so. Moves to stand precisely on the path's edge, then—
Well.
No.
Before he steps foot off the path, he'd like to take a look at the shrubbery around. Does any of it appear to be. Rustling with ill-intent?
[ARC: 14]
<.>
Everything seems quiet; however, due to his background in the magical arts, Dima has probably learned that certain types of malignant foliage can appear to be absolutely normal until it moves.
One thing has changed; when Dima pauses at the path's edge, the figure facing his way gestures to indicate his presence and the other falls silent and turns back to look at him.
<.>
Well! No use playing coy now, is there? (And he'll simply have to keep his very well-remembered lessons in mind, and keep an *eye* on all of these bushes.)
[q: What can he see of the figures’ faces? ]
<.>
From this distance, both faces are thrown in shadow by the firelight.
<.>
Dima takes a few steps - moving with care, but without hesitation - off the path, toward the firelight. Then speaks, voice self-assured but not over-loud: "Staying for the night?"
<.>
The figure in the hood seemingly cocks their head, then exhales a sound that could be a mirthful - if muted - snort. Though they face Dima, their features are still thrown in shadow, but their traveling clothes - worn, a not-uncommon mingling of leather armor and linen fabrics - can be seen. A blanket wrapped around their shoulders and their hunched manner of sitting obscures their build.
The figure nearest Dima, now in clearer view, is an older human male, his greying hair somewhat tousled as though after making his trek all day, sweating and mussing it, he has hastily attempted to bring it to order. His clothes are dirtier than a day's travel would suggest.
He casts a glance back at his companion , then, turning to Dima again, offers a welcoming grin. "The woods are treacherous at night. All sorts of buggery about. Better to be well-rested for safer travel, wouldn't you say?"
<.>
Buggery? Well— That's one word for it.
Dima's eyes narrow briefly as he considers - looks from one figure to the other, taking in what glimpses he can through the shadows - then nods once, firmly. "So I hear.
"Have you room for one more?
"I won't keep you long, but as you say, the woods are— Mm. 'Buggery' isn't precisely the term I'd choose, but it serves the purpose. And I could stand a moment's respite."
<.>
"Oh, you'd have to ask my friend here," the man replies, gesturing almost theatrically.
The hooded figure shakes their head, then gestures with one large hand to the third of the encircling rocks.
"Can't get him to shut up." The first man makes this jest as he rises, presumably out of courtesy, and extends a hand. "I'm Wythall. This is - well, I didn't catch his name, but he's generous with his campfire, aren't you, boy?
"And who might you be?"
<.>
His 'friend.'
Interesting. This... 'Wythall' has an interesting way of choosing words.
It doesn't feel entirely rotten to be invited toward the circle. Dima also isn't ready to trust a man who smiles so readily at strangers.
He steps forward, gives a suspended look to the man's hand—
And doesn't reach for it.
Instead, Dima glances at the silent figure, looks to Wythall again.
And Dima would like to attempt to discern whether there is anything trustworthy about this scene at all.
[INS: 21]
<.>
The seated figure seems sketchy as fuck in his hood, with his taciturn behavior and curt gestures.
Upon reflection, Dima might get the feeling this is intentional, as though he has just walked into the middle of something.
Wythall apparently genuinely wants to make Dima's acquaintance.
Roll another perception check?
[PERC: 11]
There's nothing about either of them to trigger alarm bells, but Dima notices Wythall isn't wearing shoes.
<.>
The sense of walking into the middle of something doesn't deter Dima in the slightest. If anything, it only encourages his curiosity.
His eyes linger on the man's feet a moment longer before he looks up again. Still not reaching for Wythall's hand, though he bows his head in acknowledgement, and speaks with undaggered courtesy: "A pleasure, Wythall. And it is a rarity, to meet such companionability in the midnight wilds.
"My name is Altair." He cants his head in a sideways nod, then looks toward the seated figure.
"And you? This fire is your work?
"I take it you bear a name, as well?"
[DEC: 15]
<.>
"Oh! Well, we have a gentleman in our midst!" Wythall is grinning now, speaking - apparently - to his companion, though his theatricality causes his voice to project somewhat. It seems he has interpreted Dima's nod as an actual bow.
The hooded man has only watched through this exchange, drawing his hand up to what is likely his mouth in apparent contemplation. When addressed, it takes him longer than one might expect to respond.
"Might as well call me 'Altair', too. The fire's mine. The name isn't.
"But you might as well, since it's not yours, either."
All four of you find yourselves on a lonely dirt road at the outskirts of a small village. Its houses are dark as tombstones; nestled among these solemn swellings are a handful of boarded-up shops and a long-abandoned tavern.
A soft whimpering draws your attention to a pair of children standing in the middle of an otherwise lifeless street. The smaller of the pair - a boy clutching a stuffed doll - is weeping, and the taller - a girl of about ten - is trying to hush him.
<.>
The first thing Dima does - jolting awake and half-upright - is make certain Faolan's still near.
The second is to reach into his pack, to feel the bundled clothes for the shape of the raven.
Once he's assured both remain, he rises to a crouch, examining the scene they've... What, been brought to? (Is this a dream?) That's been brought to them? He scans for signs of movement, signs of life. Sees that Sen is still present (wonderful; fantastic) and sees—
Okay well. They. Might be children. They look like children.
Dima would like to try to discern whether he can see anyone apart from the children, and/or whether the children from this distance appear to be actual living breathing children.
Rin meanwhile is cross all over again, because trees are supposed to be reliable and very stable places to pass the night. This is twice they've been betrayed by trees! Where did the tree even go.
Whatever the case, they don't like being in the open in such a strange place. Rin's going to leap to their feet, tail curling around their calves, trying to decide whether they've seen this place before. They're also going to try to stick to the edge of this little group they've found themself with, staying closest to the tall (he's very tall, isn't he?) elf.
And, completely brushing past the fact that one of the children is crying, they call out a question: "Is this where you live?"
<.>
Faolan wakes nearer to Dmitri than he was when he fell asleep - and much further from his hammock.
He doesn't like this. Not the town, abandoned though it might be, or waking disoriented with the only familiarity a pair of thieves and - a Voronin.
But they are familiar. Enough.
He rises and nears Sen, who is also getting to his feet with an apparent lack of perturbation.
The elf immediately begins his chatter, calling out to Rin warmly, "Doubtful they live in the street here. Maybe ask them something other. Ask if there's a tavern!"
Faolan places a hand on Sen's elbow and with a disgruntled frown, shakes his head 'no'.
[PERC, d: 11]
As far as Dima can tell, there's no one else around. The children look like flesh and blood children.
At Rin's question, the girl hushes the boy gently once more, then turns to the party and calls out, "We live there!"
She points to a tall brick row house that has certainly seen better days. Its windows are dark. It has a gated portico on the ground floor and the rusty gate is slightly ajar. The houses on either side are abandoned, their windows and doors boarded up.
"There's a monster in our house!" she adds tearfully.
<.>
Rin mutters in a voice just loud enough to be picked up by the nearest elf, "Is the monster called 'dilapidation'?" Still, it's likely worth a look; they've snagged remarkably valuable treasure from homes more ruined.
Dima examines the house, trying to determine whether he's seen architecture of the like before, mostly just trying to get some lay of the land. He glances at his three— Well, they might be called traveling companions at this point, yes? Then steps toward the children, clears his throat, and speaks in a voice intended to be courteous, if not quite friendly (how does one behave with children?): "Is there?"
And: "What manner of monster."
<.>
Sen trots away from Faolan to join Rin, so Fae first approaches Dima, then moves past him when the boy begins to cry again.
He likes children. (Always might've wanted one, himself.) (Ha.) He kneels and speaks in a low, comforting voice to the boy, drawing his attention to a serious discussion about his doll.
The girl, freed of the responsibility of comforting a smaller child, heroically sniffs against her own tears, then replies to Dima, "We don't know. We only heard its terrible howls. Our father keeps it locked away, but I think it got loose - oh, please help!"
Her reserves of strength run dry and she begins to sob, as well. Seeing this, the boy's own crying is renewed, and he latches on to Fae for comfort.
<.>
Oh... No.
Dima shifts an uncertain glance toward Faolan, who seems not at all uneasy with these children, then throws a glance back toward Sen and the tiefling, a look that might very well be a small, small cry for help. He doesn't know what to do about the crying. The information, though, he can use. So he takes a few steps near, looking more at the battered house than the child, and nods to himself, speaks again, voice unwavered: "Where is your father?"
Rin has never, never been good with children. Or people, for that matter. They have half a mind to slip off toward the house immediately, and they give the elf's side a subtle nudge, try to meet his eyes and nod toward the house.
<.>
Sen doesn't mind children, generally speaking. However, something about this situation is unsettling him, and he can't say why; while he doesn't really care to go into the house, he likewise doesn't want to stay out here.
He catches Rin's suggestion, but with a glance and nod, indicates they ought to take the other two.
Firepower. Literally. Just in case there's aCTUALLY monster.
The girl's response gives Fae a sick feeling in his stomach: she points at the house.
If she believes there's a monster and her father is in there, a corpse might be all they find.
He draws back and cups the boy's face, then places a large hand on the girl's arm. "We'll help. Or - "
He looks back at Dima imploringly - and notes Sen is already making a stealthy little beeline for the house. One last look for Dima, then he turns back and continues with renewed certainty -
"I'll help. It'll be all right. You wait out here. Right there, beside the gate."
[note: Information Fae learned while speaking with the boy: His name is Thorn. His sister's name is Rose. They are seven and ten, respectively. The doll's name is Hildabear. ]
<.>
If Dima had any intention of straying from the house - he didn't, really; he's intrigued by this supposed monster, and by whatever's brought this village to its sapped state - it would have been shattered by the looks Faolan casts his way, and dispersed to the wind when the man stands beside him. He nearly smiles; reminds himself that it really isn't the time.
Dima wants to follow Faolan, starts to follow Faolan, but - not particularly wondering whether one should question a crying child - has one more question for the girl: "How long has your village been this way?"
Rin, meanwhile, has begun to follow Sen, arcing a wide berth around the children. They're going to attempt to peer through the closest window and see what waits within, and how, mm, wealthy the inhabitants seem to be.
<.>
The girl only looks around tearfully as though seeing the village around them for the first time. She shakes her head helplessly. "It wasn't always like this."
With that, she and her brother settle themselves on the ground by the gate. Rose bundles up Thorn in an embrace, and both of them watch the four.
Looking in one of the windows, Rin can see a lavish, oak-paneled room that looks like a hunter's den. A chandelier hangs above a cloth-covered table surrounded by four chairs. The room is dark and they can't make out much else from this vantage.
Directly across from the window is a doorway leading to another, darkened room.
Entering the portico of the house, the group will find the gate is rusted and oil lamps hang from the ceiling by chains, flanking mahogany double doors with stained glass windows. These open easily, revealing a grand foyer.
Hanging on the south wall of the foyer is a shield emblazoned with a coat-of-arms, flanked by portraits of stony-faced aristocrats. At the far end of the hall is another set of mahogany double doors.
What would everyone like to do?
<.>
Rin is going to suggest that everyone be as quiet as they can. "Hey. I don't know how much time you, all of you spend as— Visitors. In other homes. How are you at subtlety?" Mostly, they're looking at Faolan and Sen. Given the 'burning down the tree' incident, Rin has sort of written off Dima for subtlety at the moment. "In case the monster's got ears, or things like ears."
<.>
Fae exchanges a glance with Dima, then Sen, and realizes maybe Rin is talking about him.
Sen, Rin, and Fae immediately begin to stealthily make their way through the house - as Dima trips, crashes into the shield, and brings it down with a clatter.
After a minor hesitation, Fae doubles back, delicately grasps Dima's (not hand) wrist (totally his hand) and whispers, "Stay close."
<.>
Rin throws the most ’Of course you would’ glare in Dima's direction, then looks to Faolan with an imploring expression of ’Please yes keep an eye on thaT.’
Faolan has secured some measure of Rin's respect, stealthy as he is. Dima— Well. The tree burning wasn't bad, but come on.
There's a cant of their head toward Sen, a nod suggesting that they'll move ahead a pace or two, and trust the elf to keep his own stealth.
For Dima, frustration (okay, embarrassment) is quickly overrun with minor dizziness, a sense of gratitude. Logically, he knows Faolan is only mending (probably only mending) a problem. But the man didn't have to take his hand! And knowing Faolan's hold eases Dima, sets him into movements far less clumsy, more attentive to the space of the room.
Dima would like to pause briefly, if possible, and determine whether there is anyone or anything recognizable in the apparent familial portraits.
And. Since he means to pause, he gives Faolan's hand the gentlest pressure.
The party finds the secret staircase with ease now. Made of creaky wood, constructed in a spiral down a 5-foot wide shaft of mortared stone, the staircase descends 50 feet. Cobwebs fill the shaft so thickly that little can be seen beyond five feet in any direction.
When they reach the bottom of the seemingly endless spiral, a narrow tunnel stretches out southward before branching out east and west.
The party begins to hear an eerie, incessant chant echoing throughout the basement.
Rin’s going to stealth and lead.
Sen is going to give Rin some inspiration: I believe a kiss on the hand for them.
After Sen does this, Faolan looks at Rin, then at Dima, then at Sen again and says, "I hope you don't tongue me when you give me mine."
<.>
Rin winks, blows Sen an air kiss, and starts down the westward path.
[STEALTH, r: 20; Rin is officially vanished into the shadows.]
They're going to move five feet over to take a look at how many stairs there look to be (or ten feet if they need to). Here, they'd like to pause and try to discern whether anything's changed in the echoing sound, whether it sounds nearer or farther or anything.
[dm: They can't tell where the sound is coming from at all. It's almost an ambient, if distant, noise.]
Though they’d intended to go check the other hallway, having seen the steps, Rin now knows a strong desire to see what's down the steps, and they're going to move to the bottom stair.
[dm: They come to the bottom of a short flight of stairs; the hall opens out into a room with a wooden table and four chairs. They can't see much in the dim lighting, but it looks like the room might branch off into other spaces.]
Rin thinking to themself, very emphatically, shit.
They'd like to pause for half a minute to discern whether there are signs or sounds of movement before heading back up the stairs.
[dm: There's no movement at all. Just that weird noise.]
Okay moving back up the stairs. They'd like to take a small look down the first branching hallway if they may before returning toward the group.
<.>
Sen is, meanwhile, uncomfortable standing here with Faolan and Dima in silence
And as he rolled a 19 on stealth, he's going to scout the other direction.
<.>
Checking out this hallway, Rin discovers more branching. And. Well. A little more searching wouldn't hurt. And Sen can reach them if anything's needed! So Rin's going to scooch down the left branch.
[dm: Down this branch, Rin finds an empty crypt. There is no name and no corpse. The blank stone slab meant to seal the crypt leans against a wall.]
’Seems like a waste,’ Rin thinks. And. They're just going to slip out of here. They don't really like having walked into a crypt. This is supposed to be a house. And thinking about what happened with Sen in the library, Rin resolves to return to the party— After taking a careful look down the right branch. Then they'll go back!
[dm: This is likewise a crypt hewn from the earth. The stone slab meant to seal it leans against a nearby wall. Etched into it is the name Walter Durst. The crypt is empty.]
....Rin nearly. Nearly says out loud, ’I knew Walter was trouble.’
They did not know any such think. They also don't do more than think the words, though they'd like to take a moment to see just how dusty this crypt is, and whether there are tracks anywhere within.
[dm: There are no tracks; the general dust and cobwebs are about the same as everywhere else down here.]
That's enough for now; Rin's going to head back toward the others. Probably, it's wisest not to stay split for too long down here.
<.>
Sen, not knowing where Rin is, exactly, is going to message Dima.
[ Is Rin back yet? ]
<.>
Dima has been trying no to look too long at Faolan; it isn't the right time (to say the fucking least), and he doesn't want to discomfort the man any further. He studies the rings on his hand, reminds himself to stave off worry for later, and he's about to dare a press to Faolan's bicep when—
Godsdamnit Sen.
He sounds huffy even in his thought response: [ No, they haven’t— ]
Which is when the tiefling slips back into view, seems to instantly note Sen's absence, and fixes Dima and Fae with sharp eyes.
[ They have. I believe they're looking for you, o intrepid adventurer. ]
<.>
Faolan's attention is on Rin, so he fails to notice that Dima and Sen are communicating.
[ If we come down this way, don't bother with the first corridors, left or right.
I'd go so far as to say, keep Faolan out of them. Yourself, as well, with your little passengers. ]
Sen is, as it turns out, standing in the crypts of Rosavalda and Thornboldt Durst.
A perfunctory look down the other hall has told him these are the crypts of the children's parents.
<.>
Dima: [ …I'll want to know what you've seen. But I take your suggestion in this case as word. ]
<.>
Sen: [ Final resting places of those not yet finally resting. And those who ought not be finally resting, come to think of it. It seems Father and Mother Durst have done one good thing for their children, after all, and expired. ]
<.>
A moment as Dima first forgets, then remembers to breathe, and: [ Thank you, Sen. ]
And.
[ I'd be interested to know who sealed the shitminded parents into resting. For now, you'd better return before the tiefling throws a fit. ]
<.>
No need to tell him twice; he didn't think about THAT.
- Who buried the parents, OR Rin throwing a fit
<.>
After messaging Sen, Dima's going to softly share with Faolan and Rin some part of what Sen relayed: That there's nothing that needs searching in the first passages to the east.
[DEC, d: 12]
<.>
Faolan regards Dima for an uncomfortably long moment, then decides not to investigate further. (Yet.)
Sen, on returning, says there's nothing at all down either passageway.
[DEC, s: 15]
Rin buys it. Faolan is still not having this shit, but also kind of figuring at this point mAYBE they're lying for a reason.
So, the stealthed thieves just returned to report Nothing. Faolan also decided to stealth himself and is silently judging some not-truth-tellers.
<.>
Dima, seeing everyone going stealth, will try his hand at it again, though his hopes aren't particularly high and he's planning on keeping to the back of the party.
[STEALTH: 20]
Rin does not trust Dima to lead the stealth train. They're good with themself, Sen, or Faolan.
Dima. Does not want Fae to lead. For no particular reasons. And suggests one of the thieves - who are presumably accustomed to odd houses - should take point.
<.>
Sen is not as accomplished a thief as Rin and will gladly defer to their guidance.
<.>
Rin gives Sen a smile and a [ Why thank you very much! ] With a wink because you see, they learned this trick too!
"Before we move— Okay, so we're gonna want to go down a small flight of stairs. There's a hallway to the right, but it's just a couple of empty crypts." They pause. They think. "Mostly empty. There was a name in one, but nothing to go with it. Point being it's not really worth our time so. Down the stairs we go!"
If no one has questions or comments, Rin will begin moving toward the stairs they found earlier.
The party trudges toward Awich; Faolan uses some of his remaining energy to cast a healing spell on Dima and on himself, enough to get them both through until they can rest.
Sen has a bounty in several towns, so evens he has one in Awich, odds he does not—
He does not!
So: the party arrives in a decently sized port village along one of the many rivers that flow from the north to join the canal to the south. The majority of the people here are wayfarers, travelers, emissaries, and those who profit from catering to passers-through.
There's a mingling of races here, and even some Gillmen from south of Morovsk can be seen working the docks. Those residents who don't serve travelers are fishermen, sailers, and general laborers of the types one would expect: blacksmiths, tailors, etc.
The town is controlled by Loch Bien, but locally run by a lessor lord whose title here is Magister; he has final say on all dictates of the town and surrounding farms, though these are few and far between.
Awich is at the edge of civilization; the forests that span the peninsula seem to threaten to overtake the town from the south, though much of it has been cut back to the north, where the road leads to Loch Bien.
So! What would everyone like to do?
<.>
Dima thinks it'd be a wise idea to secure housing before anything else; he is, however, low on ready funds.
So actually first q from me: Is there any way for Dima to access his family's money out here? I assume not.
Whatever the case, he'll ask if anyone has a preference for place of lodging.
Rin is looking around very innocuously. Definitely they aren't picking out places to potentially break into and loot. (Definitely they ARE doing this.)
<.>
Lucky for Dima, Sen has a talent for acquiring lodgings and food. Anywhere he performs, he seems to have accommodations just thrown at him.
So he recommends finding a modest tavern in Old Reach or along the river where he can work a little magic - which will be recounting stories of their exploits (with a little artistic license) and singing.
So he recommends finding a modest tavern in Old Reach or along the river where he can work a little magic - which will be recounting stories of their exploits (with a little artistic license) and singing.
Rin will see plenty of pockets to pick and houses to rob.
The town square is one particular place where a talented thief can make a dishonest day's pay.
Sen will suggest deciding what among their spoils of war they can hawk for some fast coin.
Faolan, meanwhile, is decidedly quiet while all of this is being discussed. He's considering sneaking out to the forest and sleeping there.
[dm: Liviana's magic has returned their belongings to them because someone forgot they didn't have that shit.]
Faolan has a little coin of his own, though, and wherever Sen finds accommodations is where he'll pass tonight, at least.
<.>
Rin agrees to selling what they don't need. Their suggestion is hawk things, then find accommodations, then everyone can do just as they please!
[dm: It'll be up to Rin (and ahah you) to determine what's not needed.]
Dima doesn't look particularly eager to go about these mundanities, but he's also not about to let the thieves handle transactions alone. :/ He'd like to head to the docks; that'll wait. For now, he looks at Faolan and Messages: [ Care to help keep an eye on these two? ]
<.>
Faolan looks down at his clothes, muddied and covered in several kinds of gore, and back up at Dima again. He's too tired to make any kind of argument, however, and simply shrugs.
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kingdomsofrain2026-01-17 02:26 pm
Prelude: Ill-Natured Shrubbery
Speaking to the bushes, moving away from the bushes: “Is this a game to you."
When he turns to look back after his unhasty retreat, he'll see shrubs and bushes lining the path; everything is still and quiet once more.
Dima is displeased by this. He asked a question thank you very much.
He scans the bushes. Scans the trees. And, you know what. he's just going to stay where he is for the moment. Hand brushing against his dagger. Listening, listening. And he'll try one more speaking gambit: “If it's money you're after, you'll find it's simpler to ask. I'm in no mood for games."
While he's at it, he’s just going to add in Undercommon, “Fucking noxious prick."
[ q: while dima's looking around, 1) is there anything he knows about this particular path/patch of the trail? news he might have heard? 2) is there any strangeness of sound or silence?
SURV: 13 PERC: 4]
He would know this stretch of road is barely carved out of greater wilderness; however, although many creatures inhabit the area, the ones that live near humanoid-trafficked areas tend to be little more than nuisances. He would also know many travelers have sustained strange slashed wounds, but have all been reluctant to talk about what happened.
Perception-wise, he sees bushes and shrubs.
As Dima stands there, wary (?) and inspecting the treeline, one of the shrubs rustles, its branches beginning to tremble as if jostled by some animal. The shrub uproots itself and moves toward Dima, lashing out with its branches.
Dima casts Chill Touch on the offending buSH. Dima somehow crits the hit on the shrub for 12 damage.
The shrub turns brittle and motionless as though in the dead of winter; its leaves shrivel and shed, and it falls sort of...sideways.
Clearly, he has killed this plant. Well done Dima, Bush Slayer.
Dima would like to inspect the plantly remains and see if he can tell anYthing about the magic animating it? Or rather if there is any trace to tell by?
[ARC: 8]
As far as he can tell, there's nothing interesting about the shrub, and in fact he has no proof he didn't imagine the entire encounter.
Dima kicks the bush's remains. Frozen as it is, it breaks down further into brittle pieces. Like he dunked it in liquid nitrogen and smashed it.
[ …q: can dima scoop up some of the remains in a vial. keep it for later? or for ditching if he gets tired of looking at it ofc ]
It's pretty easy to bottle up. Dima now has a trophy of his first kill of the adventure.
[PERC: 11]
Dima isn't sure, but upon giving a perfunctory glance around the area, it seems as though there are fewer shrubs than before. Almost as though - if there were more - upon perceiving the gruesome death of their comrade, a lot of plants noped the fuck out.
Dima takes this as a sign that he has done his job well and given the shrubs an apt fright!
He nods to himself. gives the bush's meager remains a final stomp. And says not super quietly, "Yes, we'll SEE if you try that again."
Then quieter, to himself, "Godsdamned shrubs. As if any SHRUB were equal to a Voronin.”
The Party Gathers: If a Tree Burns in the Forest...
As the sun sets on the horizon and the stars appear one by one overhead, there can be seen not-too-distantly the glow of a campfire.
Nearer, it can be ascertained that the fire is about thirty feet from the trail in a clearing, and two figures can be seen seated on stones forming a ring around the firepit.
<.>
He knows he ought to halt his travel soon.
He knows better than to linger long where strangers stay.
But! The thing is. There's nothing furtive about this fire's presence. And it can't hurt to take some measure of whoever, or whatever, is responsible for the fire.
And maybe (maybe!) whoever this is knows something of these pernicious bushes.
So. For the moment, Dima would like to pause where he is, and listen to see whether he can overhear anything, or sense anything odd in the air.
[PERC: 13, with advantage bc dumbass crit failed his first roll]
<.>
Listening, he can overhear the sounds of faint, calm conversation, but can't really determine the subjectmatter. There's nothing exceptional about the site: it appears to be a well-traveled area, used frequently by those taking the road to and from Awich. Of the two figures, one wears a hooded cowl which in the twilight obscures their face; the other's is turned towards their hooded companion and thus their back is to Dima, but from this distance, it's easy to determine their build is slight, perhaps the same height or slightly taller than Dima.
<.>
He'd like a better look at these probable travelers. He'd like to determine whether they have anything worth knowing.
So Dima moves up the path fifteen feet or so. Moves to stand precisely on the path's edge, then—
Well.
No.
Before he steps foot off the path, he'd like to take a look at the shrubbery around. Does any of it appear to be. Rustling with ill-intent?
[ARC: 14]
<.>
Everything seems quiet; however, due to his background in the magical arts, Dima has probably learned that certain types of malignant foliage can appear to be absolutely normal until it moves.
One thing has changed; when Dima pauses at the path's edge, the figure facing his way gestures to indicate his presence and the other falls silent and turns back to look at him.
<.>
Well! No use playing coy now, is there? (And he'll simply have to keep his very well-remembered lessons in mind, and keep an *eye* on all of these bushes.)
[q: What can he see of the figures’ faces? ]
<.>
From this distance, both faces are thrown in shadow by the firelight.
<.>
Dima takes a few steps - moving with care, but without hesitation - off the path, toward the firelight. Then speaks, voice self-assured but not over-loud: "Staying for the night?"
<.>
The figure in the hood seemingly cocks their head, then exhales a sound that could be a mirthful - if muted - snort. Though they face Dima, their features are still thrown in shadow, but their traveling clothes - worn, a not-uncommon mingling of leather armor and linen fabrics - can be seen. A blanket wrapped around their shoulders and their hunched manner of sitting obscures their build.
The figure nearest Dima, now in clearer view, is an older human male, his greying hair somewhat tousled as though after making his trek all day, sweating and mussing it, he has hastily attempted to bring it to order. His clothes are dirtier than a day's travel would suggest.
He casts a glance back at his companion , then, turning to Dima again, offers a welcoming grin. "The woods are treacherous at night. All sorts of buggery about. Better to be well-rested for safer travel, wouldn't you say?"
<.>
Buggery? Well— That's one word for it.
Dima's eyes narrow briefly as he considers - looks from one figure to the other, taking in what glimpses he can through the shadows - then nods once, firmly. "So I hear.
"Have you room for one more?
"I won't keep you long, but as you say, the woods are— Mm. 'Buggery' isn't precisely the term I'd choose, but it serves the purpose. And I could stand a moment's respite."
<.>
"Oh, you'd have to ask my friend here," the man replies, gesturing almost theatrically.
The hooded figure shakes their head, then gestures with one large hand to the third of the encircling rocks.
"Can't get him to shut up." The first man makes this jest as he rises, presumably out of courtesy, and extends a hand. "I'm Wythall. This is - well, I didn't catch his name, but he's generous with his campfire, aren't you, boy?
"And who might you be?"
<.>
His 'friend.'
Interesting. This... 'Wythall' has an interesting way of choosing words.
It doesn't feel entirely rotten to be invited toward the circle. Dima also isn't ready to trust a man who smiles so readily at strangers.
He steps forward, gives a suspended look to the man's hand—
And doesn't reach for it.
Instead, Dima glances at the silent figure, looks to Wythall again.
And Dima would like to attempt to discern whether there is anything trustworthy about this scene at all.
[INS: 21]
<.>
The seated figure seems sketchy as fuck in his hood, with his taciturn behavior and curt gestures.
Upon reflection, Dima might get the feeling this is intentional, as though he has just walked into the middle of something.
Wythall apparently genuinely wants to make Dima's acquaintance.
Roll another perception check?
[PERC: 11]
There's nothing about either of them to trigger alarm bells, but Dima notices Wythall isn't wearing shoes.
<.>
The sense of walking into the middle of something doesn't deter Dima in the slightest. If anything, it only encourages his curiosity.
His eyes linger on the man's feet a moment longer before he looks up again. Still not reaching for Wythall's hand, though he bows his head in acknowledgement, and speaks with undaggered courtesy: "A pleasure, Wythall. And it is a rarity, to meet such companionability in the midnight wilds.
"My name is Altair." He cants his head in a sideways nod, then looks toward the seated figure.
"And you? This fire is your work?
"I take it you bear a name, as well?"
[DEC: 15]
<.>
"Oh! Well, we have a gentleman in our midst!" Wythall is grinning now, speaking - apparently - to his companion, though his theatricality causes his voice to project somewhat. It seems he has interpreted Dima's nod as an actual bow.
The hooded man has only watched through this exchange, drawing his hand up to what is likely his mouth in apparent contemplation. When addressed, it takes him longer than one might expect to respond.
"Might as well call me 'Altair', too. The fire's mine. The name isn't.
"But you might as well, since it's not yours, either."
<.>
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Death House pt. 1: There’s a Monster Inside!
A soft whimpering draws your attention to a pair of children standing in the middle of an otherwise lifeless street. The smaller of the pair - a boy clutching a stuffed doll - is weeping, and the taller - a girl of about ten - is trying to hush him.
<.>
The first thing Dima does - jolting awake and half-upright - is make certain Faolan's still near.
The second is to reach into his pack, to feel the bundled clothes for the shape of the raven.
Once he's assured both remain, he rises to a crouch, examining the scene they've... What, been brought to? (Is this a dream?) That's been brought to them? He scans for signs of movement, signs of life. Sees that Sen is still present (wonderful; fantastic) and sees—
Okay well. They. Might be children. They look like children.
Dima would like to try to discern whether he can see anyone apart from the children, and/or whether the children from this distance appear to be actual living breathing children.
Rin meanwhile is cross all over again, because trees are supposed to be reliable and very stable places to pass the night. This is twice they've been betrayed by trees! Where did the tree even go.
Whatever the case, they don't like being in the open in such a strange place. Rin's going to leap to their feet, tail curling around their calves, trying to decide whether they've seen this place before. They're also going to try to stick to the edge of this little group they've found themself with, staying closest to the tall (he's very tall, isn't he?) elf.
And, completely brushing past the fact that one of the children is crying, they call out a question: "Is this where you live?"
<.>
Faolan wakes nearer to Dmitri than he was when he fell asleep - and much further from his hammock.
He doesn't like this. Not the town, abandoned though it might be, or waking disoriented with the only familiarity a pair of thieves and - a Voronin.
But they are familiar. Enough.
He rises and nears Sen, who is also getting to his feet with an apparent lack of perturbation.
The elf immediately begins his chatter, calling out to Rin warmly, "Doubtful they live in the street here. Maybe ask them something other. Ask if there's a tavern!"
Faolan places a hand on Sen's elbow and with a disgruntled frown, shakes his head 'no'.
[PERC, d: 11]
As far as Dima can tell, there's no one else around. The children look like flesh and blood children.
At Rin's question, the girl hushes the boy gently once more, then turns to the party and calls out, "We live there!"
She points to a tall brick row house that has certainly seen better days. Its windows are dark. It has a gated portico on the ground floor and the rusty gate is slightly ajar. The houses on either side are abandoned, their windows and doors boarded up.
"There's a monster in our house!" she adds tearfully.
<.>
Rin mutters in a voice just loud enough to be picked up by the nearest elf, "Is the monster called 'dilapidation'?" Still, it's likely worth a look; they've snagged remarkably valuable treasure from homes more ruined.
Dima examines the house, trying to determine whether he's seen architecture of the like before, mostly just trying to get some lay of the land. He glances at his three— Well, they might be called traveling companions at this point, yes? Then steps toward the children, clears his throat, and speaks in a voice intended to be courteous, if not quite friendly (how does one behave with children?): "Is there?"
And: "What manner of monster."
<.>
Sen trots away from Faolan to join Rin, so Fae first approaches Dima, then moves past him when the boy begins to cry again.
He likes children. (Always might've wanted one, himself.) (Ha.) He kneels and speaks in a low, comforting voice to the boy, drawing his attention to a serious discussion about his doll.
The girl, freed of the responsibility of comforting a smaller child, heroically sniffs against her own tears, then replies to Dima, "We don't know. We only heard its terrible howls. Our father keeps it locked away, but I think it got loose - oh, please help!"
Her reserves of strength run dry and she begins to sob, as well. Seeing this, the boy's own crying is renewed, and he latches on to Fae for comfort.
<.>
Oh... No.
Dima shifts an uncertain glance toward Faolan, who seems not at all uneasy with these children, then throws a glance back toward Sen and the tiefling, a look that might very well be a small, small cry for help. He doesn't know what to do about the crying. The information, though, he can use. So he takes a few steps near, looking more at the battered house than the child, and nods to himself, speaks again, voice unwavered: "Where is your father?"
Rin has never, never been good with children. Or people, for that matter. They have half a mind to slip off toward the house immediately, and they give the elf's side a subtle nudge, try to meet his eyes and nod toward the house.
<.>
Sen doesn't mind children, generally speaking. However, something about this situation is unsettling him, and he can't say why; while he doesn't really care to go into the house, he likewise doesn't want to stay out here.
He catches Rin's suggestion, but with a glance and nod, indicates they ought to take the other two.
Firepower. Literally. Just in case there's aCTUALLY monster.
The girl's response gives Fae a sick feeling in his stomach: she points at the house.
If she believes there's a monster and her father is in there, a corpse might be all they find.
He draws back and cups the boy's face, then places a large hand on the girl's arm. "We'll help. Or - "
He looks back at Dima imploringly - and notes Sen is already making a stealthy little beeline for the house. One last look for Dima, then he turns back and continues with renewed certainty -
"I'll help. It'll be all right. You wait out here. Right there, beside the gate."
[note: Information Fae learned while speaking with the boy: His name is Thorn. His sister's name is Rose. They are seven and ten, respectively. The doll's name is Hildabear. ]
<.>
If Dima had any intention of straying from the house - he didn't, really; he's intrigued by this supposed monster, and by whatever's brought this village to its sapped state - it would have been shattered by the looks Faolan casts his way, and dispersed to the wind when the man stands beside him. He nearly smiles; reminds himself that it really isn't the time.
Dima wants to follow Faolan, starts to follow Faolan, but - not particularly wondering whether one should question a crying child - has one more question for the girl: "How long has your village been this way?"
Rin, meanwhile, has begun to follow Sen, arcing a wide berth around the children. They're going to attempt to peer through the closest window and see what waits within, and how, mm, wealthy the inhabitants seem to be.
<.>
The girl only looks around tearfully as though seeing the village around them for the first time. She shakes her head helplessly. "It wasn't always like this."
With that, she and her brother settle themselves on the ground by the gate. Rose bundles up Thorn in an embrace, and both of them watch the four.
Looking in one of the windows, Rin can see a lavish, oak-paneled room that looks like a hunter's den. A chandelier hangs above a cloth-covered table surrounded by four chairs. The room is dark and they can't make out much else from this vantage.
Directly across from the window is a doorway leading to another, darkened room.
Entering the portico of the house, the group will find the gate is rusted and oil lamps hang from the ceiling by chains, flanking mahogany double doors with stained glass windows. These open easily, revealing a grand foyer.
Hanging on the south wall of the foyer is a shield emblazoned with a coat-of-arms, flanked by portraits of stony-faced aristocrats. At the far end of the hall is another set of mahogany double doors.
What would everyone like to do?
<.>
Rin is going to suggest that everyone be as quiet as they can. "Hey. I don't know how much time you, all of you spend as— Visitors. In other homes. How are you at subtlety?" Mostly, they're looking at Faolan and Sen. Given the 'burning down the tree' incident, Rin has sort of written off Dima for subtlety at the moment. "In case the monster's got ears, or things like ears."
<.>
Fae exchanges a glance with Dima, then Sen, and realizes maybe Rin is talking about him.
"I can try."
Sen, of course, drops a wink.
[STEALTH CHECK!
r: nat 20!
f: nat 20!
s: 17
d: …5]
Sen, Rin, and Fae immediately begin to stealthily make their way through the house - as Dima trips, crashes into the shield, and brings it down with a clatter.
After a minor hesitation, Fae doubles back, delicately grasps Dima's (not hand) wrist (totally his hand) and whispers, "Stay close."
<.>
Rin throws the most ’Of course you would’ glare in Dima's direction, then looks to Faolan with an imploring expression of ’Please yes keep an eye on thaT.’
Faolan has secured some measure of Rin's respect, stealthy as he is. Dima— Well. The tree burning wasn't bad, but come on.
There's a cant of their head toward Sen, a nod suggesting that they'll move ahead a pace or two, and trust the elf to keep his own stealth.
For Dima, frustration (okay, embarrassment) is quickly overrun with minor dizziness, a sense of gratitude. Logically, he knows Faolan is only mending (probably only mending) a problem. But the man didn't have to take his hand! And knowing Faolan's hold eases Dima, sets him into movements far less clumsy, more attentive to the space of the room.
Dima would like to pause briefly, if possible, and determine whether there is anyone or anything recognizable in the apparent familial portraits.
And. Since he means to pause, he gives Faolan's hand the gentlest pressure.
<.>
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Death House pt. 2: Onward and Downward
When they reach the bottom of the seemingly endless spiral, a narrow tunnel stretches out southward before branching out east and west.
The party begins to hear an eerie, incessant chant echoing throughout the basement.
Rin’s going to stealth and lead.
Sen is going to give Rin some inspiration: I believe a kiss on the hand for them.
After Sen does this, Faolan looks at Rin, then at Dima, then at Sen again and says, "I hope you don't tongue me when you give me mine."
<.>
Rin winks, blows Sen an air kiss, and starts down the westward path.
[STEALTH, r: 20; Rin is officially vanished into the shadows.]
They're going to move five feet over to take a look at how many stairs there look to be (or ten feet if they need to). Here, they'd like to pause and try to discern whether anything's changed in the echoing sound, whether it sounds nearer or farther or anything.
[dm: They can't tell where the sound is coming from at all. It's almost an ambient, if distant, noise.]
Though they’d intended to go check the other hallway, having seen the steps, Rin now knows a strong desire to see what's down the steps, and they're going to move to the bottom stair.
[dm: They come to the bottom of a short flight of stairs; the hall opens out into a room with a wooden table and four chairs. They can't see much in the dim lighting, but it looks like the room might branch off into other spaces.]
Rin thinking to themself, very emphatically, shit.
They'd like to pause for half a minute to discern whether there are signs or sounds of movement before heading back up the stairs.
[dm: There's no movement at all. Just that weird noise.]
Okay moving back up the stairs. They'd like to take a small look down the first branching hallway if they may before returning toward the group.
<.>
Sen is, meanwhile, uncomfortable standing here with Faolan and Dima in silence
And as he rolled a 19 on stealth, he's going to scout the other direction.
<.>
Checking out this hallway, Rin discovers more branching. And. Well. A little more searching wouldn't hurt. And Sen can reach them if anything's needed! So Rin's going to scooch down the left branch.
[dm: Down this branch, Rin finds an empty crypt. There is no name and no corpse. The blank stone slab meant to seal the crypt leans against a wall.]
’Seems like a waste,’ Rin thinks. And. They're just going to slip out of here.
They don't really like having walked into a crypt. This is supposed to be a house. And thinking about what happened with Sen in the library, Rin resolves to return to the party— After taking a careful look down the right branch. Then they'll go back!
[dm: This is likewise a crypt hewn from the earth. The stone slab meant to seal it leans against a nearby wall. Etched into it is the name Walter Durst. The crypt is empty.]
....Rin nearly. Nearly says out loud, ’I knew Walter was trouble.’
They did not know any such think. They also don't do more than think the words, though they'd like to take a moment to see just how dusty this crypt is, and whether there are tracks anywhere within.
[dm: There are no tracks; the general dust and cobwebs are about the same as everywhere else down here.]
That's enough for now; Rin's going to head back toward the others. Probably, it's wisest not to stay split for too long down here.
<.>
Sen, not knowing where Rin is, exactly, is going to message Dima.
[ Is Rin back yet? ]
<.>
Dima has been trying no to look too long at Faolan; it isn't the right time (to say the fucking least), and he doesn't want to discomfort the man any further. He studies the rings on his hand, reminds himself to stave off worry for later, and he's about to dare a press to Faolan's bicep when—
Godsdamnit Sen.
He sounds huffy even in his thought response: [ No, they haven’t— ]
Which is when the tiefling slips back into view, seems to instantly note Sen's absence, and fixes Dima and Fae with sharp eyes.
[ They have. I believe they're looking for you, o intrepid adventurer. ]
<.>
Faolan's attention is on Rin, so he fails to notice that Dima and Sen are communicating.
[ If we come down this way, don't bother with the first corridors, left or right.
I'd go so far as to say, keep Faolan out of them. Yourself, as well, with your little passengers. ]
Sen is, as it turns out, standing in the crypts of Rosavalda and Thornboldt Durst.
A perfunctory look down the other hall has told him these are the crypts of the children's parents.
<.>
Dima: [ …I'll want to know what you've seen. But I take your suggestion in this case as word. ]
<.>
Sen: [ Final resting places of those not yet finally resting. And those who ought not be finally resting, come to think of it. It seems Father and Mother Durst have done one good thing for their children, after all, and expired. ]
<.>
A moment as Dima first forgets, then remembers to breathe, and: [ Thank you, Sen. ]
And.
[ I'd be interested to know who sealed the shitminded parents into resting. For now, you'd better return before the tiefling throws a fit. ]
<.>
No need to tell him twice; he didn't think about THAT.
- Who buried the parents, OR Rin throwing a fit
<.>
After messaging Sen, Dima's going to softly share with Faolan and Rin some part of what Sen relayed: That there's nothing that needs searching in the first passages to the east.
[DEC, d: 12]
<.>
Faolan regards Dima for an uncomfortably long moment, then decides not to investigate further. (Yet.)
Sen, on returning, says there's nothing at all down either passageway.
[DEC, s: 15]
Rin buys it. Faolan is still not having this shit, but also kind of figuring at this point mAYBE they're lying for a reason.
So, the stealthed thieves just returned to report Nothing. Faolan also decided to stealth himself and is silently judging some not-truth-tellers.
<.>
Dima, seeing everyone going stealth, will try his hand at it again, though his hopes aren't particularly high and he's planning on keeping to the back of the party.
[STEALTH: 20]
Rin does not trust Dima to lead the stealth train. They're good with themself, Sen, or Faolan.
Dima. Does not want Fae to lead. For no particular reasons. And suggests one of the thieves - who are presumably accustomed to odd houses - should take point.
<.>
Sen is not as accomplished a thief as Rin and will gladly defer to their guidance.
<.>
Rin gives Sen a smile and a [ Why thank you very much! ] With a wink because you see, they learned this trick too!
"Before we move— Okay, so we're gonna want to go down a small flight of stairs. There's a hallway to the right, but it's just a couple of empty crypts." They pause. They think. "Mostly empty. There was a name in one, but nothing to go with it. Point being it's not really worth our time so. Down the stairs we go!"
If no one has questions or comments, Rin will begin moving toward the stairs they found earlier.
<.>
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Awich: The dead all know; the dead all go.
Sen has a bounty in several towns, so evens he has one in Awich, odds he does not—
He does not!
So: the party arrives in a decently sized port village along one of the many rivers that flow from the north to join the canal to the south. The majority of the people here are wayfarers, travelers, emissaries, and those who profit from catering to passers-through.
There's a mingling of races here, and even some Gillmen from south of Morovsk can be seen working the docks. Those residents who don't serve travelers are fishermen, sailers, and general laborers of the types one would expect: blacksmiths, tailors, etc.
The town is controlled by Loch Bien, but locally run by a lessor lord whose title here is Magister; he has final say on all dictates of the town and surrounding farms, though these are few and far between.
Awich is at the edge of civilization; the forests that span the peninsula seem to threaten to overtake the town from the south, though much of it has been cut back to the north, where the road leads to Loch Bien.
So! What would everyone like to do?
<.>
Dima thinks it'd be a wise idea to secure housing before anything else; he is, however, low on ready funds.
So actually first q from me: Is there any way for Dima to access his family's money out here? I assume not.
Whatever the case, he'll ask if anyone has a preference for place of lodging.
Rin is looking around very innocuously. Definitely they aren't picking out places to potentially break into and loot. (Definitely they ARE doing this.)
<.>
Lucky for Dima, Sen has a talent for acquiring lodgings and food. Anywhere he performs, he seems to have accommodations just thrown at him.
So he recommends finding a modest tavern in Old Reach or along the river where he can work a little magic - which will be recounting stories of their exploits (with a little artistic license) and singing.
So he recommends finding a modest tavern in Old Reach or along the river where he can work a little magic - which will be recounting stories of their exploits (with a little artistic license) and singing.
Rin will see plenty of pockets to pick and houses to rob.
The town square is one particular place where a talented thief can make a dishonest day's pay.
Sen will suggest deciding what among their spoils of war they can hawk for some fast coin.
Faolan, meanwhile, is decidedly quiet while all of this is being discussed. He's considering sneaking out to the forest and sleeping there.
[dm: Liviana's magic has returned their belongings to them because someone forgot they didn't have that shit.]
Faolan has a little coin of his own, though, and wherever Sen finds accommodations is where he'll pass tonight, at least.
<.>
Rin agrees to selling what they don't need. Their suggestion is hawk things, then find accommodations, then everyone can do just as they please!
[dm: It'll be up to Rin (and ahah you) to determine what's not needed.]
Dima doesn't look particularly eager to go about these mundanities, but he's also not about to let the thieves handle transactions alone. :/ He'd like to head to the docks; that'll wait. For now, he looks at Faolan and Messages: [ Care to help keep an eye on these two? ]
<.>
Faolan looks down at his clothes, muddied and covered in several kinds of gore, and back up at Dima again. He's too tired to make any kind of argument, however, and simply shrugs.
<.>
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