Eyeing the other dwarf and remembering how noisy he was in all that metal armor, Sirenya thought about it and then shrugged. "Alright." She certainly wouldn't meet any of the local animals that way, but it wouldn't stop her from finding tracks and trails, or scat or dens. If she did find anything promising, she could always go back as the sun was setting. That was the best time to catch them setting out for the night's hunting, anyway. "Maybe there's someplace that will offer a good view over this valley."

[OOC: She'll look for someplace where the farms back up to the forest. If there's a chance to talk to the halfling farmers, she'll do that, too. Or the forest comes near to the river, since everything needs to drink, and damp ground tends to hold better tracks. And if she can pick one of those in a direction that might gain some good elevation for a nice overlook, all the better.]

Krackor listens to the others then looks at Kora and Elorfindar. Kora, I'm surprised Corym hasn't taken you with him, some sort of training would be involved and Elorfindar, what is it you have decerned from this place? Has anyone actually spoken with the Inn Keeper?

Krackor waits for a response before deciding on what to do next.

Krackor's intent: Talk to the Inn Keeper about Glen since no one else has as of yet. Go out into the streets and talk to people asking them the following questions before saying a blessing from Gorm about keeping Glen safe and keeping the Dwarven race growing:
1) Where are the shines and Holy sites?
2) Where are the Dwarven priests?
3) Where is the local brewer?
4) How easy is it to get secure property in Glen?
5) How does Glen work so well with Halflings, Elves and Dwarves mixing so close together?

I think that should do it.

ooc: post 9600 is mine ;-)
This message was last edited by the player at 23:35, Tue 23 Apr 2019.

"Oh, I think I've done enough walking for a day or two," Kora laughs. "This may not be a city, but it's close enough for this city girl. I just want to relax in my bed, soak my feet, and see if one of the halflings here gives massages. And maybe if I'm up for it, I'll work on some of the mind exercises Corym left me."

Krackor

The innkeeper bows to you. You remember exchanging a few words when you first arrived, but as exhaustion was pressing down on you, not much more than that. He's happy to talk with you, and offers you a complimentary pint as you chat.

"It's an honor to meet you, Guardian. We don't get many of Gorm's host out here. I suppose that's good; the Host should be where dwarves are most in need of defending. But still, it's good to know we are not forgotten by the Fire Eyes."

((ooc: About shrines and priests.))

"The Dales aren't much of a place for grand temples. Glen's no different. Forgesmith Vorn Duraxe is the ranking cleric in town. His forge is Moradin's shrine, and a communal gathering hall. I don't know how they do things out west, but east of Anauroch that's pretty typical for small holds. We have a shrine to Dumathoin too, of course. But our Delvesonn passed on to the Silent Keeper a decade ago, and hasn't been replaced."

((ooc: About brewers.))

"Most families here do a bit of brewing. The water around here is good, but small ale is better. If you want a professional, we've got three. Phoellus Redaxe, Haeil Onyxhelm, and Yallaren Longtoes all have shops in town. Their beers are sold all over the dales. Yallaren is a halfling, if that matters."

((ooc: About property.))

He raises an eyebrow. "Thinking of settling down? No dwarf town would ever turn away a member of the Vigilant Host. How much are you wanting to buy? I know there are some rooms and floors for sale here and there. If you want an entire towerhouse, I don't know. You'd likely need to speak with the Forgesmith. He would know."

((ooc: About other races.))

"You can thank Myth Drannor for that." The innkeeper chuckles. "And the Army of Darkness, in a backhanded way. Glen was founded by a clan that got kicked out of Myth Drannor for liking to dig. They came here, where they could dig ore and be close enough to keep in contact with kin still in the city.

"When the Army came through, Glen was one of the places non-elves evacuated to. Most kept going; figuring that if the city fell, we'd be next. But dwarves stayed, and a few halfling families who were to tired or injured to run further. We've a few humans as well, but most of them live in the rest of the dale. Neldor's new. Had the good sense to apprentice his daughter to a dwarf. His shop always smells funny, but he hasn't blown anything up yet, and the adventurers who come to buy from him buy from the rest of us as well." He takes your empty mug back and salutes you with it.

In reply to DM (msg # 378):

Kora, you are young, strong and quick of mind, don't forget that your sword training also focused your mind, quietened your thoughts and allowed you to see clearly. Try that before next you train with the Captain. No need to thank you Mistress Lightbearer, go with Gorm's blessings

Listening intently to the Inn Keeper, the Guardian remembers bits, takes in the rest and thanks him. Having fully introduced himself on arrival, he felt that part wasn't necessary this time.

Thank you, this is very handy, both the drink and the information.

The Vigilant Host in other parts don't only guard Temples but important areas and people too, including passages that lead into the Underarm, especially those use by the denizens who raid our homes and mines.

Such a shame that no one has taken up the mantle since your Delvesonn joined the Silent Keeper, I'm sure the Forgesmith brings great honour to Glen in Moradin's name. I shall speak with him regarding property and veneration.

The brewers! It is good you have some master brewers here and most make their own. If we do set up here, I may have a forgotten Ale recipe that wouldn't go a miss in this place and the surrounds.

Thank you.

Understanding how Glen came about makes sense to Krackor, it would make sense to the Lord of the Bronze Mask too, saving the people.

Nodding his thanks once more, he went on his way to see those mentioned.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:38, Wed 24 Apr 2019.

Sirenya and Katarn

You spend a pleasant day wandering outside of Glen. The village is pretty self-contained; none of the fields extend more than one or two hundred yards from the back doors of the upper story buildings. There aren't any large fields of grain; Glen seems to specialize in berries and vegetables, with a healthy interspersion of squashes. All of the plots are either already enclosed in glass, or have empty frames ready to be set up.

Beyond the edge of the farms the dale is a pleasant, mostly-flat grassland. Some of it has been harvested for hay, but you're soon walking through dry yellow grass that comes up to your chest.

Glen is placed almost equally between the two out-stretched arms of the forest. Two miles of walking north or south will bring you to the treeline. The grass between it and the town is filled with quiet, careful life. You get the sense that while the dwarves probably don't hunt for hare or squirrel, some of the halflings probably do. There are small burrowing mammals here, but they are cautious. Neither of you see many signs of demihuman activity; it seems most people stick to the road.

((ooc: There isn't really any point of elevation at this part of Mistledale. There isn't much in the way of water, either, just a few muddy depressions that collect rainwater. Is there anything you want to do in particular? You could probably find a small mammal to talk to, if you moved a bit away from Katarn.))
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:46, Sat 27 Apr 2019.

Elorfindar spent some time meditating on the memory of the passage he had once read which the spell had highlighted. Still, he was not quite sure what to make of it. Maybe I should cast another spell to interpret the last one, he muttered while he was getting up to leave his room. Apparently his mind had not yet recuperated completely.

Later, when the band had assembled again for a meal, he shared his experience. "I cast a spell of inspiration this morning, to see whether I could connect overlooked threads in this riddle-net. The dweomer guided me to something I read a long time ago, written by an Evereskan elf who had visited Myth Drannor when it had not been lost yet. I remembered reading that he had a hard time finding information about the allegedly many gates of the city. He wrote that

"Only two gates are known to all: the Silversgate to Silverymoon in old Cormanthor, and the Honorsgate to the Forest of Mir in southern Kerradunath. Each is a massive free-standing arch, so heavily enchanted the air hums four strides away. The armathors who stand guard joke that not even shattering them could fully break their power.

What do you make of that? Could it be that one of these portals, maybe damaged but still functioning in a now-different way, pulled us here? Maybe if we found out more about the layout of the city, and thus determine the locations of the known gates - and where we arrived -, we could verify this. But I guess that would still not get us very far - unless these two gateways originally had a purpose which we could try to find out about and which might explain why one of them brought us together.
Now where could we find such information in this region?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:15, Sun 28 Apr 2019.

In reply to Elorfindar Silveroak (msg # 381):

I believe we will get 'some' imformation along the way, getting some from Mistledale and Deepingdale, maybe that will get us maps and a better idea of what to look for. Will you be collecting this information for us?

He liked what his friend was considering, maybe having a single point of knowledge collection, although if that person has a similar occurrence as Talathel, getting the information back out may be difficult. Worth a try for now though.

"I honestly think it was the work of my patron, the Fey Jester.  It's just too random to be anything else.  Consider--the Elven Court has fallen and no longer guards Myth Drannor.  The Retreat means a desperate moment for our people.  They turn their backs on the greatest treasure of our people.  Who is summoned then to the great treasure?  Three scions of Evereska, which has not heeded the call to Flee. Who shall accompany them--a gnome specializing in stealth, a dwarf specializing in watchfulness in a place where we need watchfulness, and a dwarf that can turn invisible and specializes in guiding people home. Utterly random, and completely poetic.  "

"No--given the context of recent events, I think we're gathered to secure the Treasures of the People against their foes."

"Erevan Ilesere. The Fey Jester. Maybe the malfunctioning gateswere his medium--but that's what makes sense to me."

Discovering evidence of at least some of the natural creatures of the earth was deeply reassuring to Sirenya. She didn't need to disturb any of them -- most were likely asleep by this point in the day, anyway, and wouldn't likely be all that inclined to welcome idle chatter.

They were here. And the countryside became just a little less foreign, and a little more normal to her. It eased a tension within her that she hadn't even been consciously aware of until it was released.

Taking in a deep breath, she let it sigh out of her, then turned to Katarn. "Well, it's not gnomish country, so flat as it is, but at least it's not so different from the Heartlands. The shadow over Myth Drannor must spread wider than readily meets the eye." Looking around again, she grinned and added, "It won't hurt for me to avoid my usual places for a while, anyway. Let them wonder. And worry." The thought made her giggle -- because there were a few that would worry about what she was up to, if she wasn't being seen so they could keep track of her.

"There's got to be good wines made somewhere in this region, right?" she asked as they started walking again. "I should explore what's available. You think the dwarves here have tried their hand at it, now that they're living above the ground? Dwarven wine. That'd be something unexpected back home."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:22, Tue 30 Apr 2019.

Dorian sipped at his drink, but was otherwise lost in thought and said nothing.

"Never visited gnomish country myself. Where do yer folk live anyhow? Don't know that I know of gnomish country so much." Katarn looked somewhat aghast at the idea of dwarven wine when she mentioned it then he ended with a shrug. "Something new to find everyday on these trails we walk I suppose. That'd be something unexpected back fer my home too. We've some wine, but 'tis grown by some humans nearby for us."

Group

The various parties trickle back into town over the course of the day, your curiosity about the immediate surroundings satisfied for now. After another pleasant evening at the inn, you gather your things and set out to Ashabenford.

Questioning the innkeeper reveals that Mistledale's largest town is thirty miles to the west, and that if you press yourselves a little you can get there in two days. So you set out, walking a little quicker and a little longer in the day than you would normally.

Aside from the early winter weather, it's a lovely walk. The forest blocks the worst of the north wind, but it still swirls around you. The sky is slate gray, and every now and then you catch sight of tiny snow flakes. All of the harvest is in; you pass the fields of several family farms that lie alongside the road, and you can see the barns of others further off to the north and south. As you walk the arms of Cormanthor recede and advance, eventually disappearing entirely in the north even as the road slowly draws closer to the forest to the south.

Mid morning on the first day a group of the famous Riders of Mistledale comes riding up the road from the west. They're riding patrol from Ashabenford to Glen, and question you briefly about your intentions and the road conditions before nodding and riding onward. ((ooc: If anyone wants to role-play the meeting, or has questions for them, let me know))

You see other Dalesfolk out and about as well. Farmers making last repairs to their lands and buildings before winter, lone wagons hauling hay, tinkers, even a bard or two. Everyone seems friendly, but no one wants to chat for too long in the chill.

As the sun begins to set on your second day you enter an area of more aggressively farmed land. No longer single homesteads or a small group of families, there are acres and acres of land that have been put under the plow. All harvested now, the black soil studded with cut stalks and picked bushes. And further ahead, windows gleaming with light in the gathering night, is the town of Ashabenford.

The road runs straight into town. It's a pleasant looking place, and certainly bigger than Glen. Though that isn't saying much. There are several cross streets going north and south, but even if you manage to get lost, you won't stay that way for long. Especially not with the River Ashaba forming the town's western border. There are a decent number of people out and about, finishing the day's business or seeking an evening's meal. You spot a couple of Riders keeping watch. No one is paying you much attention.

((ooc: Welcome to Ashabenford. What's your pleasure?))

((OOC: For expedience sake--rooms at an inn, whichever one, and start seeing about a Southbound barge. Other than that I'd like to see if there's any noticeable shortage or need in Ashabenford to see if we might be able to supply that need from Highmoon.  Won't hurt to pick up some coin.))

In reply to Corym Ildroun (msg # 388):

Knowing that they won't be in the city for long, Krackor procures rooms, food and drink for the group, leaving the rest to whom ever wants to know more.

(OOC: Krackor believes it is his duty to make sure the above are sorted by him so he can ensure his travelling companions are safe. He has no other business for such short times in this place)

In reply to Katarn (msg # 386):
"Oh, I'm from the Heartlands," Sirenya answers Katarn. "We tend to like hill country, and if there's a bit of a forest around it," and she waves her arms at the one around them, "then it's even better. Easier to hide a surface garden. Some things just won't grow well underground, and if you're too far from a town to go shop on market days, well, then you don't have to do without."

She grinned at his reaction to the idea of dwarven wine. "Gnomes don't generally make wine, either, but that's because you need so much fruit to make it with. You really need to live on the surface to keep up with enough plants to do that." She shrugged, adding, "We trade for it from humans, too, and elves. It's just more practical."

Looking around again, then back toward the town, she pouted and sighed. "Well, if they don't make wine here, I hope they trade for something decent, because now I've got a craving for it."

Glancing up at Katarn, she asks, "So where are you from? It seems none of us was from anywhere close to Myth Drannor." It seemed like time she started finding out who these people were, since she was going to be around them for a while. She was more than happy to answer his questions, too -- although anything too personal was going to get a vague answer. Truthful -- she tried to avoid lying to priests -- but vague enough for safety.

Dorian will spend the evening in the taproom plying his trade as a Bard, if possible.  While he's at it he will try to gather information of the local goings on.

"Me? I was born in Citadel Adbar near a century ago meself. Citadel's way up at th' top o' th' world, north and east of famed Silverymoon, nestled into th' Ice Mountains and south o' th' Ice Spires. Cold place, but home. Marthammor called me feet outta th' Citadel decades ago, 'n I've been travelin' th' Marches from Silverymoon ta Adbar helpin' me kin who're lost up in the Realms Above. Whoever the Finder brings me too. Seems now he's bringin' me ta you lot though... which is different even fer him." Katarn chuckled at his response.

"So, long winded way ta say, 'no, not near Myth Drannor fer meself before this either'" He looked at Sirenya kindly from his towering height of 4' tall. "Might I ask lass... ye seemed a bit skittish, even after we left Myth Drannor. You ok? Expectin' some other boot ta drop an ye?"

Group

A bit of wandering the town and questions of the locals leads you to the White Hart Inn. As soon as you step inside you can tell you're going to feel at home. This is an inn catering to adventurers. The rooms are comfortably furnished with thick carpets and solid beds and chairs. Stoves and thick walls keep the air pleasantly warm. Tapestries both worn and new hang from the walls, each filled with scenes of monsters and myths.

The taproom isn't as busy as you might have expected, not quite half full. You're easily able to get rooms for everyone and a filling meal of thick venison stew and warm bread. With each spoonful you feel the tension of travel drain away a little more.

Dorian

There isn't currently a bard in the inn's taproom, and when you unlimber your instrument and start to sing you quickly attract a crowd. For a small town, they turn out to be a discerning audience. They know a number of elven songs to request, and even ask for some you've never heard of. As you finish each song they respond with enthusiastic applause.

You don't need to buy any of your drinks throughout the evening, and with a few well-placed questions as you wet your throat you learn a few interesting things. The big news is that a messenger arrived in town a few days ago bearing word that Azoun's Crusade crushed the invading barbarians in a great battle in Thesk. Casualties are said to be heavy. Everyone is wondering when the army will be coming home, and whether the men and women who went east from Mistledale are still alive.

In local concerns, there's some talk about skulking Zhent spies and fiends in Myth Drannor, but they sound like familiar worries. There doesn't appear to be anything particularly new or worrisome. And the harvest was apparently pretty good; no one is worried about starving this winter.

Corym inquires with the inn keeper about boats and captains that work the river Ashaba.

Katarn settled into the inn quickly as it felt like many an inn he'd seen in his years, perhaps more comfortable than some, but less so than others. He frowned a bit at the news of the Crusade's victory and mumbled something about it "being a shame so many had to lose their lives on both sides of a fight like that."

Other than that, he kept mostly to himself, still not very used to having companions to share the road with and other councils besides his own and Marthammor's to keep. He drank and enjoyed Dorian's playing along with the towns folk. Useful to have entertainers with you on the road, he thought to himself as he remembered many cold, lonely, long, windy roads up where he was from. Here was warm and comfortable though and he enjoyed it immensely.

Sirenya was glad to settle back and relax again at an inn. While she didn't have the appetite of a halfling, she did enjoy having a good, filling meal in a comfortable place. The recent travel had been brisk enough for her to be considering picking up a pony; four short legs could keep up with quick-moving elves with less effort than it'd been taking her, of late. If they didn't catch a barge on the river from here, she might have to look into that tomorrow.

But for the evening, she could rest, and even sing quietly along with some of Dorian's songs. She had a good voice, but she wasn't going to intrude on someone who clearly had training in performing.

She kept an eye out for other gnomes, too. She was curious where the gnomish communities in this part of the country were located. Besides, it was highly unlikely anyone here would know her family issues, which meant she wouldn't have to worry about that.

In reply to Sirenya (msg # 396):

Krackor enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere, yet never letting his guard down fully, that would be remiss of him and his training.  Corym, Kora and Elorfindar knew this of him well, he was however still wary of the newer members of the group, not for any unfounded thoughts of betrayal but more so that he wasn't fully conversant with their quirks and manerisms.  The journey from the Ruins of Myth Drannor had given the Guardian Dwarf much to think about, whether that was of the increased levels of danger or the trepidation that the new arrivals had of those he had been travelling with for some time, even himself for that matter.

He moved these things to one side so as not to distract himself and called for a jug of ale.
"Well, no Obar or Karilla to test against.  Anyone think they can match me drink for drink is welcome to join me."  He looked pointedly at the Finder of Trails priest and then at the wistful creature that was Sirenya. "What say you all?"

And with that said, Krackor poured drinks for everyone at the table and raised his tankard May the wanderers find the trail the animals leave and the home hearths burning strong, may the trees sing of stories of long ago as the warmth of a good meal settles.

Katarn chuckled, "I've been outta the homeholds fer a time 'n then some. Not had a good drink fer drink in almost as long. I'll match ye Guardian. Hope we get a barge tomorrow though. Don' fancy walkin' about with me head on Moradin's anvil." Katarn grabbed up his mug in one hand and raised it, "ta placid waters, foes tha' lay down before ye, 'n deep reservoirs of riches."

He tossed one mug back and motioned for a refill with a sparkle in his eyes.