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D&D5e [PBF] FIRELIGHT - Vol. 1


Torica plops a sack on the ground.
“I’ve brought the materials to make some, but I’m not too experienced with these very open environments. If we dig a pit, I have magical means to blend it in with the surrounding environment. I also have some large leg snares, but we need something strong to tether to, otherwise they’re not much use.”

Torica’s game to check out the house, there’s still a few hours before it gets dark.

The small copse of trees is very old. The trees are dry and the bark is gray and peeling. The house is similarily weathered, dry and brittle. There doesn’t appear to be any signs that anyone has lived here for many years. Torica finds some old wooden chairs, two of which are still sturdy enough to sit on.

Make a perception roll!


Nyaih sighs. “I see we have another… Oh, nevermind. Well, yes, I am looking for an alchemist to fill out my team. I’m pursuing adventuring contracts in the greater Hailagrhiem area for now, and I want to keep on the upward track in regards to our capabilities. You’re obviously new, so I’ve not had time to research you.”
Nyiah rises from her seat. The cloud of employees adjusts its flow to compensate for her movement as she hobbles across the room.
“I’d like to see what you can do. I’ll be leaving for the Tally Ho in a moment to check on my team. Come with me, if you please, and we’ll have them test you. In the meantime, do you have any questions?”


“Uhm yes i do have a few questions. Working on the assumption that I’m on the team, do you have facilities where i can practice my various trades?”
Althaea is consciously controlling both her nervousness and excitement around this seemingly powerful woman.


Rooper rolling Perception
d20: 10 + 2
d20: 5 + 2


Nyiah is signing a document on a page’s back. “I’ve got access to some facilities, yes. Though I hope to rent a base of operations, don’t you have access to your guild’s facilities? If we come to a permanent arrangement I’ll see what I can do.”
She moves towards the door, and the workers become frantic.
“I’ll be back later!” She calls as she steps out, and there’s an audible collective frustrated sigh.
“I’ve been dividing my attention the last few days. The pages are having difficulty adjusting. I’m not really planning on staying here forever, so they’re just going to have to deal with it.” She leads Althaea down to a carriage and they both set off towards the Tally Ho.


“While i do have access to my guild hall, and I’m sure they could do a favour for me every now and then to get me access to what they don’t have, i would prefer to rely on the guild as little as possible. It is also easier if I’m working at the place where everyone else is so someone doesn’t need to track me down in case something comes up.”


Ryuko shakes his head. “This is the Tally Ho, Alice. It’s anyone’s temporary home if they’ve got the coin. They rent rooms to travellers.”

Ryuko stretches and feels the weight of the past 24 hours hit him. “You might not need sleep anymore, but I’m going to collapse if I don’t find some. Let’s go see what charming company we can find at this hour, shall we?”

Ryuko will enter the Tally Ho.


Hal’s perception roll for…perceiving things?

d20: 20 + 5


Well, whatever there is, Hal perceived the HELL out of it!!!


(@twispby and @RossM) There is indeed a gathering of interesting strangers at the Tally, and Alice looks pleased and extremely curious.

It’s mostly dark in the common room, but 7 people are sitting around the crackling fire swapping stories.

The storyteller is an older man in rough garments, though baring the ornamentation of an official rank. He’s a gruff man telling dour tales, though he seems to have a ‘stiff upper lip’ approach, and the group laughs occasionally at his dry observations. Mirk recognizes immediately that he’s wearing the regalia of an Eastvale Reeve. Mirk’s homeland of Eastvale is ruled by a counsel of Lords (called The Branch), who administrate their holdings through the local Reeves, so this would be the equivalent of a mayor - though Eastvale towns tend to be small and relatively poor.

Listening intently are two rogish half-elves, who appear to be almost identical twins. Their green eyes flick back and forth, and they seem to be dueling with the storyteller for laughs from the rest with deftly inserted comments and quips. The Reeve doesn’t rile up easy despite their needling, and chuckles along with the group.

Aside the very slightly taller half-elf leaning on his arm is a well-built young lady with red hair and a frequent laugh. She looks well into her cups at this point, and looks ready to fall asleep, but she’s obviously quite determined to stay awake and admire her dashing companion.

The fifth is a guard of the low plaza, his armor carefully discarded and gleaming in the flickering light.

A well coifed mercenary with golden teeth strokes his waxed mustache, rapier at his feet.

A huge half-orc in comfortable furs rumbles concern nearest the storyteller, voicing interest in investigating the Eastvale problem.

Alice hesitates, then approaches the group, taking one of the empty seats near the twins.
“What’s this? A little princess come to the Tally?” The plaza guard points her out.
“Not a princess, I’m…” Alice thinks, “I’m an adventurer.”
The groups laughs, and Alice is embarrassed, but the twins are too interested to let her clam up.
“Now, now! That’s enough, especially from you, York” the shorter twin gestures at the guard. “Adventurers are a noble breed, not like your bumbling plaza outfit! Tell me brave adventurer, what is your name, and what is you quest?”
Alice shrugs.
“I don’t have a quest yet, and I think I need a new name. Mine isn’t… Very Adventurer-y.”
The fancy mercenary leans forward, teeth sparkling, “A name is most critical, to cut a figure, to woo admirers, and to leave your mark. I too took a new name when I left my home and set out to find my way. Later, I got new names to fit my deeds. They call me Golden Laderian, and the Silent Sting.”
The Eastvale Reeve looks amused.
“Such pomp fits the city well, but adventure is found in all sorts of places. You’ll need a name that can be dragged through the mud and still sound strong.”
“You are very small.” The half-orc barbarian scratches his head. “You should have a big sounding name, to confuse your foes.”

This conversation will doubtless continue until Alice has picked an adventurer nickname.
You may engage the group, (or a member of it) or go to sleep.


Ryuko stands a few paces outside the circle and interjects after the half-orc. “You all speak your own truth, but sometimes our names carry the honour of our past, our fathers and mothers, and ancestors. It is not something to be discarded lightly.”

Ryuko attempts a look of meaning toward Alice as he says the word “mothers”.

“Some may seek escape from their past burdens by changing their name, but I choose to carry on my family’s memory with it.”

Ryuko waves at Den and calls for a round for the house. “Ryuko Kimbatuul is my name and I drink tonight in memory of a fallen friend. May his name and memory live on.”


Roop’s relatively occupied, mentally, as he makes his way to the Tally Ho. He does pick up a number of important things happening around him, though he misses out on some smaller details.

Firstly, there is a significant stirring among the dwarves. Everyone knows that dwarves are busy folk, but today there is a flurry of activity going on all across the dwarven district that Roop recognizes as unlike standard workday bustle. He guesses that many are preparing for some kind of gathering, and that everyone seems pretty angry.

After the long climb to the top of the Tally Ho’s hill, Roop can see the sun glinting off of much gold far off near the sea, doubtless the high plaza.

At about the same time that Roop is entering the Tally, Nyiah’s carriage rolls up the hill and the busy half-elf stumps out, followed by someone Roop hasn’t met before.

@ColdCanadian The ride with Nyiah isn’t long, it’s not far from the docks to the Tally. “We’ll have to see about aquiring equipment, then,” Nyiah notes down in her ledger, “if you’re a good fit, I’ll have you make a list for me. They’ll be the judge of your fitness, by the way. I don’t know about alchemy, nor do I know that much about adventuring. I only have one hard rule - my friend doesn’t get hurt. Otherwise, I’m just backing and funding the thing.”
Nyiah looks out the window as the carriage crests the hill. "Speak of the devil, there’s Roop now.

The carriage stops abruptly, and Nyiah almost falls off the bench onto her face. Reflexively, she puts out her bad leg as a brace and winces.
“ANDER.” She growls through the little slot to the outside. The driver sounds terrified as he rushes down to open the door. “Sorry, miss, sorry…” He babbles.

Nyiah’s eyes are daggers as she steps out, but she cheers up when she calls to Roop.
“Roop! You look like crap!” She jeers as she carefully steps down from the carriage, heavily favoring her leg. “Sleep in the gutter? Got a potential new hire, and you’re making me look bad.” She waves Althaea to follow, “Roop, this is Althaea, Althaea, Roop. Thought we could use someone of the tinkery and crafty type, and she might be the one. Would certainly improve the aesthetics of the team. Make up for…” She gestures at Roop with her trademark smirk, “all this.”


Poking around, Hal finds something interesting in the tall grass outback of the house - a skeletal hand, wearing a golden ring, and holding a strange brass dagger. The hand itself was severed at the wrist, clean through the bone, in a clean line like the stroke of a blade.

(Arg gotta go, more later)


Althaea smiles. “You certainly look like you could use a pretty face around here. Id be happy to show you what i can do. Sounds like you would be the one to impress.”


“The noble patron of our company! Come to slum with the minions? You sure you want to go in there? There’s the odd unsavoury type about that might offend your delicate sensibilities.”

He puffs on his pipe and gives Althaea a careful appraisal. “Tinkering and crafting, eh? Well, I just spent the last evening being jabbed and poisoned with a whole bunch of nasty stuff. Having someone in the company that knows their way 'round a cauldron seems like sound plan.”

He waves them both towards the inn’s entrance. “Dunno where the rest are. We split up to cover some of those outstanding contracts. Xeet ate something that disagreed with him; honestly, his face was as green as orc hide. He’s out for a while until he recovers. But there’s a few things I need to discuss with you Ny…”


Hal prods the severed bone hand with his spear, skeptical and cautious of traps as always.

However, his initial suspicion (based on the clean cut) is that somehow this hand was removed by the beast he and Torica are hunting. Though how it digested all the flesh and left the hardware is a mystery…

[Can Hal tell how long the hand has been defleshed?]


Mirk purchases a drink and hands it to his countryman. “You were saying…”


(survival check for a more accurate guess)


“Sure, Roop, let’s get some breakfast. It’ll be on me today. So far you’re in, Althaea, but prepping some kind of relevent demonstration may endear you to my craggy companion. You can think on it over food.”

The Inn is busy as usual, full of working class people having a hearty meal. Den swoops about caring for things, and the serving girls are practically running. Nyiah pulls a face, but says nothing.

There’s not much for empty seats, but Nyiah soon has a table end cleared out for the three of them.

“What’s the word, Roop? Good news, I hope?”

(@ColdCanadian if Althaea were to prep a small demonstration, what would it look like?)


Alice’s mood falls immediately. “I had forgotten… Weird Elf is gone. Not dead, but gone… I do miss him.”

The orc nods. “It is true, to respect one’s past is as important as carving one’s future.”

“Though, in this case,” The mercenary smiles an unpleasant smile, “perhaps it would be wise to change a name to hide from prying eyes? I must say, sir Dragonborn, that you are an odd company. Two men of the badge and a highborn half-elf child. Half southern elf, I might add. Rare combination.” His eyes shine darkly in the light of the fire, and Alice looks at him with surprise.
“Not that it’s any business of mine.” He smiles once more, and twirls his moustache. The plaza guard has perked up and his brow is furrowed. He appears to be reconsidering the situation.