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D&D5e [PBF] FIRELIGHT - Vol. 1


Althaea is in the High Plaza, and Ryuko just entered the Dwarven district.


The death glare doesn’t really work out quite as planned - it’s a little too effective, and draws the ire of the dwarves. A small crowd of them pulls out of the main group and surrounds her.
“Just where are you going with your face like that?! Got a problem, elf?!” An especially burly and angry dwarf gets in her face as much as he can.


“I dont have a problem yet, but keep getting in my face like this and that will soon change. Im trying to do my job, and you angry dwarves are making that real difficult. So move.”
Althaea says, folding her arms.


“Well, well, we’re in your way are we?! Bet you’d love it if we ‘packed up back to Gurranhal,’ Eh? Bet you think that only humans and elves belong in Carrandale, eh?!”
More dwarves have surrounded the group, and it looks like the main crowd may engulf them soon.


“I couldn’t care less where you are as it’s not right here right now. Why are you here anyway? Angry mobs never solve anything. If you have a problem why dont you solve it instead of sitting here shouting?”


Torica holds the ladder. It’s pretty tall and rickety, but Hal’s agile enough to climb it no problem.

The case doesn’t come off the chain, but he’s able to open it. Inside is a shiny brass rod about 3 feet long that looks like the same material as the gorgon. It has a leather loop in one end, with a decorative puff of red feathers attached.


Ryuko will engage with some of the irritated folks. On his way over he’ll try to send a telepathic message to Ashur.

“Can you see… what I see?” He thinks at the wand, regarding it as her connection to him, “Or do you see through your wand?”

Ryuko will look for a group of people that look somewhat approachable, “There seems to be ill tidings in the air this morning. Have you any news today?”


Hal grabs the rod from the case, and slides back down the ladder. He also picks up the electrum from the chest.

“A funny kind of staff. Must be some sort of Gorgon halter? Maybe we’ll check in with Huron the First. …but speaking of first, there’s something I’d like to do…first…”

Hal heads over to the sand timer, looks around one last time, mops his brow, and then picks it up (without flipping it).


[… actually, may have misinterpreted/completely glossed over the “massive” part of the sandtimer. Can it even be lifted?]


(It’s probably 400 pounds along with its stand)


(Nyiah broke up the payment there)
Alice gets recording. Her handwriting is good, and much much faster than the average 10 year old. She has a very focused expression.


Hal reconsiders the plan to lift the sandtimer once he realizes it weighs more than 3 times as much as he does.

“Hmm. It must flip somehow… but we’ll come back to that.”

He spins the promotional ring of identification around on his finger, saying “I’ve got 2 more charges today, might as well use them…” and asks Huron about the gloves and the rod with the feathered loop.


Althaea doesn’t get an answer. The air booms with a godlike voice and the crowd is instantly stilled.

“My brothers and sisters. This riot is misguided. Do not blame the people of Carrandale for the attempt on my life, or for the plot to use unholy brothers to frame you as traitors. There is no need for any of this. The war between Gurranhal and Carrandale will cease, let the dwarves, for once, be the first to let bygones be bygones.”
A dwarf stands beside the hapless government official, and once he has finished speaking, Althaea can hear the murmur of the dwarves around her saying ‘the Ambassador’ and ‘thought he might be dead’.
Beside the dwarf is figure that is uncomfortable to view even from this distance, a scarecrow of a man dressed in the attire of a high priest of Ohgma.


"Gloves of Poor’s Grip. Despite sounding like ‘poor grip’ these gloves give their wearer incredible grip strength. Fallon Poor was a great mountain warrior, his legendary hand strength is sealed in these gauntlets. It is said that he held back a demon lord’s flame with his hands alone.

This is the Rod of Construct Command. It allows many magical constructs to be bound to the user’s will, and can greatly harm others."

(Poor’s Grips give the wearer a grip strength of 22, which is +6, for applicable grip related checks. It can also be locked in an almost unbreakable grip for a minute, at which time it counts as a 30 strength grip, but cannot be taken off or articulated in any way.

Rod of Construct Command gives a fixed random chance to take command of a construct. Otherwise, it does damage based on the construct type and size.)


(Was oghma the temple asking for the survivors of our first job or are they the temple that originally aproached us about our first job.)

(I say our but really it was your. Althaea wasnt there)


(the former!)


Hal thanks the wizard, assuring him that he’ll visit the shop next time he’s in Konungr-Saet.

“Whelp,” he said to Torica, “I’m guessing these items where used together to control the gorgon–the rod to guide it, and the gloves to hold on to the rod? Too bad, was hoping these were gloves of regular old strength, used to lift that giant sandtimer–but as you say, that’s probably run by some magic…”

“Suppose we head back to ournfriend the Captain now, and let her know she has one last headache to attend to?”

Hal gathers up all his stuff and the loot, and starts heading back to the gate.


While Hal is getting his items identified, Torica pushes on the bottom of the sandtimer. Despite its massive size, it rotates on its stand quite easily! Turning it over doesn’t seem to do anything, other than allow sand to filter back down. It seems to filter down one grain every ten seconds. This would take forever to fully drain!


Hal turns back to see Torica flip the hourglass with ease.

“Huh,” Hal says. He tries not to blush. He makes a mental note to not forget about the simple things.

As they watch the grains fall slowly, he wonders how long ago the timer was flipped initially, and who set it. And what will happen when it runs out again?

“Well, we won’t be here to find out, I suppose. Too bad, but also…there are more exciting things to do!” Hal thinks, as they make their way back to the gate.


Torica’s in a good mood, though she’s nervously rubbing her hands like she can’t seem to feel clean and cannot stop trying to get so. She chats happily will Hal, and is pleased with how things went. She’s definitely taken a liking to him, and Hal feels like he can count on her in the future if necessary.

It’s extremely late/early by the time they get back to the gate, which is naturally closed. A bit of shouting and a ladder is lowered from the gatehouse, and they’re allowed up. Captain Fairlane is easily awoken, and doesn’t mind being groggy once she’s told the good news. Two massive brass teeth that Hal and Torica pried from the beast’s mouth are presented as evidence, and the promised gold is delivered, 550.

Hal is Level 3!!