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Curse of the Sunstone IC. 5e, closed.

Prospero

The Duke of Milan
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This is High Hope. A refuge for the unwanted and oppressed, a sanctuary for those seeking to flee persecution and unjust laws. What had started off as a wicked joke on behalf of the nobility who gave the pilgrims this section of land on the dark continent has become paradise of a sort now. The colony flourishes and empowered by the friendship of the local tribes, it has truly become home for many who live here.

Whoever you may be, whatever you may be? If you come with good intent and seek to turn your life around, High Hope has a place for you. This now marks the fifth year the colony has been here, secure in its place as an air of festivities lingers. The smell of honey baked buns, the crackling of pork skin on the great spits, and so much more fills the air and one can almost believe that you could get fat on the smell alone.

This is a plentiful land and in the last council meeting, it was nigh-unanimous that everyone wanted a holiday to celebrate their landing here.

And so preparations are made, and the village is bustling with activity.

Where are you while this is happening?

You're...

A.) 'The fishermen down at the cove need to catch enough fish for the festival. I'm down there with them!'
B.) 'There's a local boar who's been attacking the colony. It'd be fitting if we killed it and brought it back in triumph! I think we were meeting at the gate for that?'
C.) 'The prize for the best artwork in the colony will be mine! I'm working on my piece for tonight's demonstration!'
D.) 'Though we have much to be thankful for, our home must be guarded still. I'm with volunteers, patrolling the wall.'
E.) 'I think I'll be doing my own thing.'
 
Athaclenna is in a festive mood, but knowing that there was probably going to be a group of hunters going out after this wild boar, and that they might get hurt in the process, she would make her way to the gate to join in the hunt. It is important for the Chosen of Corellon to offer their gifts to others freely, doing the most good that they can.
 
Having caught wind of a smelly swine-born causing a ruckus in the locality Cadnik made his way to the gathering throng. Batches of people seemed to have already formed groups and the cloaked hob looked around warily for an opening. Most looked like local hunters and he had no intention of trying to worm his way into an established party. If things went south then he’d be the first one to they’d decide to cut loose...

So Cadnik resorts to moving from group to group of non-locals until they either move away or tell him to do so. Big staring eyes in full use...
 
So. Someone was finally going to do something about that boar, were they? So much for making a profit. Even still, Forte instantly thought of a way to turn even this situation to his advantage. He would go with these hunters, and use them as body guards while he found new cultures for his apothecary. It was a win win as far as he was concerned. The red toned Tiefling would also make his way towards where the hunters were gathering, making sure to stay close enough to show that he was going with them while at the same time staying far enough away to hopefully avoid any interactions with these....humans.
 
“The best piece of art huh?” Galtero thought to himself. “It doesn’t say it needs to be physical. Then again mine certainly will be ‘physical.” Galtero was able to pay a local musician (a halfling named Reed) to play his unique, single stringed instrument, under the assurance that Reed would teach no one else the lessons. For Galtero needed music to dance to and he couldn’t play at the same time. (Not yet anyway.)

So Galtero and Reed practiced a new routine through the night, even involving flipping over Reed’s head as the music played. Admittedly not as impressive given Reed’s size but it would still be fun to witness. He dedicated the performance to pantomiming a story of liberation and fighting for freedom.
 
Nina's squirming stired Taxion awake. The branch beneath him shook as he stretched awake, leaves falling to the ground. The wind of the day was full of life, the bustling town nearly knocking Taxion off his resting place. He hopped down from the tree and began to make his way toward the docks. He had a big plan coming up for the festival and needed to kill some time until it started. He always was good at catching fish. The smell of the water and the mist of the waves felt great against his sun baked fur. The ancient dock creaked and cried as Taxion made his way to the edge.

His plan was simple:

Obtain some bait. Climb under the dock. Hide from the fish. Bait the water. And skewer the fish. He could use some of his rope to tie them to his waist. Then, phase one will begin.
 
D: 'Though we have much to be thankful for, our home must be guarded still. I'm with volunteers, patrolling the wall.'

Korvol Dutaine

In the morning, Korvol gathered with the other volunteers, ready to guard the gates and patrol the wall while the festivities took place. He gathered and donned his weapons and equipment, and made sure it was all in good repair and inspection-ready. High Hope wasn't the half-orc warrior's original homeland, but the environs still reminded him of the wild and untamed lands of his far away home. He thought gruffly Festivals are good and all, but there are still threats out there...waiting for us to let our guard down. Best be vigilant. The food sure does smell good though.

His perspective was perhaps different from the others in he felt that in lands such as these, it was civilization that was the aberration, the trespasser, the oddity, and the outcast, and that such places needed to be protected from forces in a land all-too-willing to excise them.
 
Kothar had spent much of his time browsing the great variety of foods on display in High Hope. Though he could care less about the actual festivities, the great amount of meats would provide him with supplies he would need when he left the colony. Before he could buy anything, however, he felt a familiar shake come from his staff, when he examined the crystallized sap on top, he saw blood pour out of the eye captured within. Sess'innek wanted another sacrifice, Kothar had heard of a hunting group gathered at the gate that would soon leave to catch a boar. He would likely be unable to take the boar for himself, but he was sure he could kill something else on the brief expedition. Knowing that he was better off pleasing Sess'innek than buying food, he quickly met up with the rest of the hunting party.
 
D: 'Though we have much to be thankful for, our home must be guarded still. I'm with volunteers, patrolling the wall.'

Korvol Dutaine


In the morning, Korvol gathered with the other volunteers, ready to guard the gates and patrol the wall while the festivities took place. He gathered and donned his weapons and equipment, and made sure it was all in good repair and inspection-ready. High Hope wasn't the half-orc warrior's original homeland, but the environs still reminded him of the wild and untamed lands of his far away home. He thought gruffly Festivals are good and all, but there are still threats out there...waiting for us to let our guard down. Best be vigilant. The food sure does smell good though.

His perspective was perhaps different from the others in he felt that in lands such as these, it was civilization that was the aberration, the trespasser, the oddity, and the outcast, and that such places needed to be protected from forces in a land all-too-willing to excise them.

"Duataine."

Guardsman Angela Moira, daughter of the local parish cleric stood readily at attention as she greeted him. Clad in full plate(one of the colony's rarer treasures), she had to be sweltering in the jungle heat but endured it with her ever-present stoicism. On her shoulder, the emblem of a crossed mistletoe and oak branch gleamed and polished till it shone. Offering a salute, she continued. "I'd like to offer my thanks on behalf of the Town Guard. You're under no obligation to aide us today, but you've still decided to join us." She held her head a little higher, a necessity to look him in the eye(he was a good two feet taller) as she added.

"Also, I was hoping you could inform me if you've seen Hemlock. He hasn't been seen by anyone all morning."

[Perception check for details, History for determining who Hemlock is].

Athaclenna is in a festive mood, but knowing that there was probably going to be a group of hunters going out after this wild boar, and that they might get hurt in the process, she would make her way to the gate to join in the hunt. It is important for the Chosen of Corellon to offer their gifts to others freely, doing the most good that they can.
Having caught wind of a smelly swine-born causing a ruckus in the locality Cadnik made his way to the gathering throng. Batches of people seemed to have already formed groups and the cloaked hob looked around warily for an opening. Most looked like local hunters and he had no intention of trying to worm his way into an established party. If things went south then he’d be the first one to they’d decide to cut loose...

So Cadnik resorts to moving from group to group of non-locals until they either move away or tell him to do so. Big staring eyes in full use...
So. Someone was finally going to do something about that boar, were they? So much for making a profit. Even still, Forte instantly thought of a way to turn even this situation to his advantage. He would go with these hunters, and use them as body guards while he found new cultures for his apothecary. It was a win win as far as he was concerned. The red toned Tiefling would also make his way towards where the hunters were gathering, making sure to stay close enough to show that he was going with them while at the same time staying far enough away to hopefully avoid any interactions with these....humans.
Kothar had spent much of his time browsing the great variety of foods on display in High Hope. Though he could care less about the actual festivities, the great amount of meats would provide him with supplies he would need when he left the colony. Before he could buy anything, however, he felt a familiar shake come from his staff, when he examined the crystallized sap on top, he saw blood pour out of the eye captured within. Sess'innek wanted another sacrifice, Kothar had heard of a hunting group gathered at the gate that would soon leave to catch a boar. He would likely be unable to take the boar for himself, but he was sure he could kill something else on the brief expedition. Knowing that he was better off pleasing Sess'innek than buying food, he quickly met up with the rest of the hunting party.

The group of hunters was surprisingly young, the majority of them young adults or youths. The sole exception was their guide, a crotchety old Dwarf named 'Sin-Spitter Dumas. The reason for such became apparent as he spat out a noxious spray of baccy through the space in his front teeth to the side. His clothing was a hodgepodge mess of rags, dirty and smeared in strange liquids as he walked back and forth among the hunters, squinting through his one good eye. His voice was a gravely thing, as a well-polished and oiled heavy crossbow rested on his back, smeared with boot blacking on the metal bits.

"Soooo.... Y'all looking ter hunt a boar are ye? Wanting to become heroes and impress the men and ladies of this here colony? WRONG!" He suddenly yelled and pushed his face into Cadnik in an impromptu staring contest. Spittle flew as he raged aloud.

"Y'ALL AIN'T HUNTING A BOAR! YER HUNTING THE MEANEST,ORNERY FUCKING CRITTER THIS SIDE OF THE JUNGLE!"He prowled and where he moved, others recoiled briefly as he moved over to Forte as he spoke.

"RED SKIN?! GIT SOME FINE MUD ON YOU BOI! THE FUCKING BEAST GETS ANGRY AT THE SIGHT OF IT!"

He marched to Athaclenna, looking her over as he spat baccy to the side and spoke gruffly. "Miss. Gonna need yer help to keep these folks healed, in case the Beast DROPS DOWN FROM THE TREES LIKE A FATASS DRAGON!" He roared, moving onto the others again as he scowled.

His last statement had him facing Kothar now as he blinked, squinted again and looked the lizardfolk over before he nodded in approval. "Lizardfolk! I knew a ranger friend o' mine who had the most ornery over(and under) bite! If you got half his mettle, we got this in...The..." He stared at the staff, looked crestfallen and sighed.

"Or ye could just twiddle them digits and hope it works." He looked at the group, scowled and took a larger bit of his baccy, chewing noisily before he spat and seemed sated. "Right then! The Beast is a demon in pig form! It ambushes travelers on the road. It flies through the fucking trees for people. And the locals have a name for it...They call it-an'I be paraphrasing a bit now... Oh-Fuck-It-Comes-Now.' He seemed a trifle embarrassed as he shook his head and spoke. "Was never good with languages. But keep yer wits about and weapons pointed out and maybe we'll see it impale itself on them. Stranger things have happened! Now lesgo!"

[Survival check to find a trail with advantage, due to Dumas's aid.]

“The best piece of art huh?” Galtero thought to himself. “It doesn’t say it needs to be physical. Then again mine certainly will be ‘physical.” Galtero was able to pay a local musician (a halfling named Reed) to play his unique, single stringed instrument, under the assurance that Reed would teach no one else the lessons. For Galtero needed music to dance to and he couldn’t play at the same time. (Not yet anyway.)

So Galtero and Reed practiced a new routine through the night, even involving flipping over Reed’s head as the music played. Admittedly not as impressive given Reed’s size but it would still be fun to witness. He dedicated the performance to pantomiming a story of liberation and fighting for freedom.

Leia Reed finished her number and clapped politely as she spoke. "Well done! That's definitely gonna be a shoo-in at the contest tonight! Of course, with someone like me helping how could it not?" The halfling was smug, but in a cheerful way, as she brought out a packed lunch and another for Galtero beaming.

"A'course, we're going to be facing off against the Moriss Brothers-I heard they were doing some kind of weird puppet show this time." She frowned and then kicked the ground absently as she muttered. "Stupid wizards. If I used my magic for our act, we'd have this in the bag!"


Nina's squirming stired Taxion awake. The branch beneath him shook as he stretched awake, leaves falling to the ground. The wind of the day was full of life, the bustling town nearly knocking Taxion off his resting place. He hopped down from the tree and began to make his way toward the docks. He had a big plan coming up for the festival and needed to kill some time until it started. He always was good at catching fish. The smell of the water and the mist of the waves felt great against his sun baked fur. The ancient dock creaked and cried as Taxion made his way to the edge.

His plan was simple:

Obtain some bait. Climb under the dock. Hide from the fish. Bait the water. And skewer the fish. He could use some of his rope to tie them to his waist. Then, phase one will begin.

[Survival check to see how many fish are caught].

As time passed and Taxion performed his plan, a fishing boat came in-others with the same idea to fish for the festival would be bringing in their catch. Though as they sailed in, he'd be in perfect position to listen to the conversation above.

"-Bad.Bad...Every fish we've gotten is bad. Look at it! These gills are black as tar! Maybe we should get one of the druids or something to check it out."

"And worry everyone when they should be celebrating? No...Look, we got enough in our stores for this. We'll draw the fish for the festival from it and hold this for later. If somethings spoiling the fishing grounds, it can wait for a day at least. Spread the word in the meantime-no one goes out to the fishing grounds till we get someone to look into this!"
 
Athaclenna

"Or ye could just twiddle them digits and hope it works." He looked at the group, scowled and took a larger bit of his baccy, chewing noisily before he spat and seemed sated. "Right then! The Beast is a demon in pig form! It ambushes travelers on the road. It flies through the fucking trees for people. And the locals have a name for it...They call it-an'I be paraphrasing a bit now... Oh-Fuck-It-Comes-Now.' He seemed a trifle embarrassed as he shook his head and spoke. "Was never good with languages. But keep yer wits about and weapons pointed out and maybe we'll see it impale itself on them. Stranger things have happened! Now lesgo!"
At the word from the old dwarf that they were dealing with a demon, the young elf frowns. Truly it was a blessing for all these hunters that I came along. My healing will certainly be needed, and my Sacred Flame will be most certainly be useful. She nods, clutching at her bow. "I will do my best to keep us all alive, but I am only beginning on my path on the worship of Corellon, and still have much to learn. Still, I can heal, and have some talents to bring to bear."
 
The group of hunters was surprisingly young, the majority of them young adults or youths. The sole exception was their guide, a crotchety old Dwarf named 'Sin-Spitter Dumas. The reason for such became apparent as he spat out a noxious spray of baccy through the space in his front teeth to the side. His clothing was a hodgepodge mess of rags, dirty and smeared in strange liquids as he walked back and forth among the hunters, squinting through his one good eye. His voice was a gravely thing, as a well-polished and oiled heavy crossbow rested on his back, smeared with boot blacking on the metal bits.

"Soooo.... Y'all looking ter hunt a boar are ye? Wanting to become heroes and impress the men and ladies of this here colony? WRONG!" He suddenly yelled and pushed his face into Cadnik in an impromptu staring contest. Spittle flew as he raged aloud.

Cadnik mustered all his courage not to recoil from the verbose assault on his being. A fresh coat of saliva coated his face and he did his best not to wipe it off until the dwarf broke eye contact. Proceeded by him dropping to his knees and rubbing the fresh dirt on his face and hoping dwarf spit wasn’t corrosive. Muttering,”No you...” under his breath.

When he did finally feel a bit ‘cleaner’ his ears picked up on the world ‘red’ and he gripped his own cloak. Unsure, he was wondering whether to stow it away or keep it on. It wouldn’t do to be the ‘biggest’ target ... but he didn’t want to rub dirt over it just to dull the color. It was so pretty.

And if he took it off ... warily he eyed the young hunters with bows.

So the cloak would stay on. Boar be damned!

So with a dirt covered face and a clean cloak, Cadnik shuffled towards the front of the group, trying to settle into the rhythm of the wild.

———

Dice roll:

Survival check : 12 + 4 = 16
 
His last statement had him facing Kothar now as he blinked, squinted again and looked the lizardfolk over before he nodded in approval. "Lizardfolk! I knew a ranger friend o' mine who had the most ornery over(and under) bite! If you got half his mettle, we got this in...The..." He stared at the staff, looked crestfallen and sighed.

"Or ye could just twiddle them digits and hope it works." He looked at the group, scowled and took a larger bit of his baccy, chewing noisily before he spat and seemed sated. "Right then! The Beast is a demon in pig form! It ambushes travelers on the road. It flies through the fucking trees for people. And the locals have a name for it...They call it-an'I be paraphrasing a bit now... Oh-Fuck-It-Comes-Now.' He seemed a trifle embarrassed as he shook his head and spoke. "Was never good with languages. But keep yer wits about and weapons pointed out and maybe we'll see it impale itself on them. Stranger things have happened! Now lesgo!"

It was strange to hear that the softskin knew one of his kin, stranger still to imagine one of his own work alongside them. The old dwarf gave his staff a look and seemed to change from his previous demeanor. Kothar believed he saw traces of disappointment in his face, but it was hard to truly determine the nature of the change. The man's words seem to bring with them some sense of emotion as well, again Kothar could not find what was being expressed, not mention just how little sense the statement made. He made sure to keep his eye on the man, unsure of what he truly thought of Kothar. After the man had finished speaking they began their search for the demon boar, Kothar quickly got to work looking for signs of the beast.


Survival Check
17 + 4 = 21
 
Leia Reed finished her number and clapped politely as she spoke. "Well done! That's definitely gonna be a shoo-in at the contest tonight! Of course, with someone like me helping how could it not?" The halfling was smug, but in a cheerful way, as she brought out a packed lunch and another for Galtero beaming.

"A'course, we're going to be facing off against the Moriss Brothers-I heard they were doing some kind of weird puppet show this time." She frowned and then kicked the ground absently as she muttered. "Stupid wizards. If I used my magic for our act, we'd have this in the bag!"

Galtero took his lunch with a huff, not from rudeness, but from literally huffing. He was exhausted after the routine was practiced for fifth time that day. Repetition to mastery though.

“Thanks,” he said to his performing partner. “If you really wanted to be using your magic to compete, you would. Magic is no different than a sword, without the will to use it, it’s lame. Will is where all action springs. And my will to compete will carry us through.” He shrugged. “Whether we win or not is irrelevant.”
 
"Y'ALL AIN'T HUNTING A BOAR! YER HUNTING THE MEANEST,ORNERY FUCKING CRITTER THIS SIDE OF THE JUNGLE!"He prowled and where he moved, others recoiled briefly as he moved over to Forte as he spoke.

"RED SKIN?! GIT SOME FINE MUD ON YOU BOI! THE FUCKING BEAST GETS ANGRY AT THE SIGHT OF IT!"

Forte stood there in silence as the small Dwarf insulted him, using Thaumaturgy to collect the spit spewed from the one eyed cretin and fling the glob to the ground with a flick of his fingers. "Ooh. I do hope so." he would muse aloud once the Dwarf had walked off, sparing a glance in the direction of the small hooded figure who was busy dirtying their face. No doubt a nice layer of dirt was preferable to being covered in Dwarf saliva. He sympathized with the hooded figure completely. He thought about speaking up, saying that he too would be able to heal those that were actually going to be fighting as well, but thought better of it. No need to put himself out in the open like that. Not yet. So he would merely smile a faint smile and nod, going with the group while keeping an eye out for plants to cultivate and add to his apothecary.

Survival Check
13 + 2 = 15
 
Korvol Dutaine
(Half-orc fighter, former marauder bandit, turned bounty-hunter)

The half-orc warrior crisply returned the guardswoman's salute and stated "I am happy to help. The people of High Hope should be protected and feel safe while they celebrate. It's a worthy cause. I am prepared to stand any post you would have me at and preform any duties." He reflected that it had been a while since he had stood formal watch duty, the last time being while he served the petty bandit lord who called himself The Horned King, far away to the north...in a previous life.

He had prepared appropriately though, and felt festival-ready. His sturdy black leather boots were well-polished to a shine, his equipment and clothing were well-cleaned and oiled, and his mail armor had been scrubbed until it gleamed. He had touched up the paint on his steel-rimmed heavy wooden heater shield, fixing the scratches, chips, and dents, as well as adding a dark green stripe to the plain grey background. He wore a simple checkered brown and olive green sleeveless surcoat over his armor, and his headgear was a simple circular-brimmed steel kettle-helm worn over a mail coif. He normally preferred heavier headgear, even great helms, but in this climate, with the sun, harsh heat, rain, and sometimes obscured visibility, the kettle helm was far more practical, and kept the sun and the weather out of his eyes, while not obscuring visibility. He had even spent two silver pieces to bathe before arriving. For this particular duty, he had rolled up his thick black bear pelt cloak and put it away in his pack, feeling it was a bit too outlandish for the occasion.

He observed the guard, and thought She's very pretty and well-mannered. Bright red hair, blue eyes. Beautiful even. That's unusual for a soldier in these parts. I wonder why she's here? Probably could have done just about anything else had she wanted.

He tried to recall if he had seen Hemlock or who he was.
 
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Athaclenna


At the word from the old dwarf that they were dealing with a demon, the young elf frowns. Truly it was a blessing for all these hunters that I came along. My healing will certainly be needed, and my Sacred Flame will be most certainly be useful. She nods, clutching at her bow. "I will do my best to keep us all alive, but I am only beginning on my path on the worship of Corellon, and still have much to learn. Still, I can heal, and have some talents to bring to bear."
Cadnik mustered all his courage not to recoil from the verbose assault on his being. A fresh coat of saliva coated his face and he did his best not to wipe it off until the dwarf broke eye contact. Proceeded by him dropping to his knees and rubbing the fresh dirt on his face and hoping dwarf spit wasn’t corrosive. Muttering,”No you...” under his breath.

When he did finally feel a bit ‘cleaner’ his ears picked up on the world ‘red’ and he gripped his own cloak. Unsure, he was wondering whether to stow it away or keep it on. It wouldn’t do to be the ‘biggest’ target ... but he didn’t want to rub dirt over it just to dull the color. It was so pretty.

And if he took it off ... warily he eyed the young hunters with bows.

So the cloak would stay on. Boar be damned!

So with a dirt covered face and a clean cloak, Cadnik shuffled towards the front of the group, trying to settle into the rhythm of the wild.

———

Dice roll:

Survival check : 12 + 4 = 16
It was strange to hear that the softskin knew one of his kin, stranger still to imagine one of his own work alongside them. The old dwarf gave his staff a look and seemed to change from his previous demeanor. Kothar believed he saw traces of disappointment in his face, but it was hard to truly determine the nature of the change. The man's words seem to bring with them some sense of emotion as well, again Kothar could not find what was being expressed, not mention just how little sense the statement made. He made sure to keep his eye on the man, unsure of what he truly thought of Kothar. After the man had finished speaking they began their search for the demon boar, Kothar quickly got to work looking for signs of the beast.


Survival Check
17 + 4 = 21
Forte stood there in silence as the small Dwarf insulted him, using Thaumaturgy to collect the spit spewed from the one eyed cretin and fling the glob to the ground with a flick of his fingers. "Ooh. I do hope so." he would muse aloud once the Dwarf had walked off, sparing a glance in the direction of the small hooded figure who was busy dirtying their face. No doubt a nice layer of dirt was preferable to being covered in Dwarf saliva. He sympathized with the hooded figure completely. He thought about speaking up, saying that he too would be able to heal those that were actually going to be fighting as well, but thought better of it. No need to put himself out in the open like that. Not yet. So he would merely smile a faint smile and nod, going with the group while keeping an eye out for plants to cultivate and add to his apothecary.

Survival Check
13 + 2 = 15

With the aid of Dumas, the group headed off into the jungle. Past the boundaries of the colony and their farmlands, into the wild as they hiked towards the game trail. And then, Kothar would find it. The marks of a boar that had just recently slashed its tusks upon the bark for sharpening or marking territory. Dumas would eye it, the marks itself a little over his height as he chuckled mirthlessly.

"Ar, good one Finger-Twiddler! Now the rest of ye, c'mere." He gestured them close as he demonstrated, scratching out a map into the dirt. "The marks are fresh-if its here, means its heading for the river. I can take the majority of the boys, get em to use their spears to make sure it doesn't escape. The river should cut its path, which means it'll have to go through a group of volunteers to take down the boar!"

He rubbed his fingers as he looked about and spoke. "So who wants t'be smack dab in the middle of the Hunt?"


Galtero took his lunch with a huff, not from rudeness, but from literally huffing. He was exhausted after the routine was practiced for fifth time that day. Repetition to mastery though.

“Thanks,” he said to his performing partner. “If you really wanted to be using your magic to compete, you would. Magic is no different than a sword, without the will to use it, it’s lame. Will is where all action springs. And my will to compete will carry us through.” He shrugged. “Whether we win or not is irrelevant.”

"Those are bold words for someone within Lute smashing distance." The Halfling said half-jokingly as she shook her instrument in mock savagery before she chuckled and stretched out. "And I know, but well....Its magic. Never did my uncle any good and he hates it. I use it there in front of everyone, he's gonna be so mad."


Korvol Dutaine
(Half-orc fighter, former marauder bandit, turned bounty-hunter)

The half-orc warrior crisply returned the guardswoman's salute and stated "I am happy to help. The people of High Hope should be protected and feel safe while they celebrate. It's a worthy cause. I am prepared to stand any post you would have me at and preform any duties." He reflected that it had been a while since he had stood formal watch duty, the last time being while he served the petty bandit lord who called himself The Horned King, far away to the north...in a previous life.

He had prepared appropriately though, and felt festival-ready. His sturdy black leather boots were well-polished to a shine, his equipment and clothing were well-cleaned and oiled, and his mail armor had been scrubbed until it gleamed. He had touched up the paint on his steel-rimmed heavy wooden heater shield, fixing the scratches, chips, and dents, as well as adding a dark green stripe to the plain grey background. He wore a simple checkered brown and olive green sleeveless surcoat over his armor, and his headgear was a simple circular-brimmed steel kettle-helm worn over a mail coif. He normally preferred heavier headgear, even great helms, but in this climate, with the sun, harsh heat, rain, and sometimes obscured visibility, the kettle helm was far more practical, and kept the sun and the weather out of his eyes, while not obscuring visibility. He had even spent two silver pieces to bathe before arriving. For this particular duty, he had rolled up his thick black bear pelt cloak and put it away in his pack, feeling it was a bit too outlandish for the occasion.

He observed the guard, and thought She's very pretty and well-mannered. Bright red hair, blue eyes. Beautiful even. That's unusual for a soldier in these parts. I wonder why she's here? Probably could have done just about anything else had she wanted.

He tried to recall if he had seen Hemlock or who he was.

Korvol knew of Hemlock only by reputation and the rather large tattoo he had, in the form of a snake coiling around his body. He tended to volunteer the most for solitary scouting missions and he recalled seeing him just this morning, prepped for a long trip.


.....Odd now that he'd come to think of it.

Aloud, Guardsman Moira spoke. "You're not under my command-I'm just a guard, same as anyone else. Just blessed to have a set of armor I could use unlike the leather plates everyone else is making do with." She smiled thinly and added. "With a lot less comfort of course. But this has sentimental value."
 
"Those are bold words for someone within Lute smashing distance." The Halfling said half-jokingly as she shook her instrument in mock savagery before she chuckled and stretched out. "And I know, but well....Its magic. Never did my uncle any good and he hates it. I use it there in front of everyone, he's gonna be so mad."

He winces at her mock rage and chuckles back.

“You prove my point though. You had insufficient will to smash me over the head. Just as your will to use magic is insufficient for fear of disapproval, therefore, it will be of no use to us. Besides, to compete at all is a victory. Art and expression are more important than rewards or tiers . . . although I admit performing for services can be a necessity.”
 
He rubbed his fingers as he looked about and spoke. "So who wants t'be smack dab in the middle of the Hunt?"

Raising a hand unconsciously Cadnik notes a few of the hunters give him a wary eye before putting it down. When the others look away he raises his other hand very slowly. “Question!” chiming in as best he can while putting his pack down and looking in th bag and up at the hunters every now and again so they can’t peek at his stuff.

“Enough time to set up a trap,yes? No?” Cadnik fishes out a working, but beaten animal trap. A few of its teeth looked smoothed over or were missing entirely but the spring itself looked strong and glossy.
 
[Survival check to see how many fish are caught].

As time passed and Taxion performed his plan, a fishing boat came in-others with the same idea to fish for the festival would be bringing in their catch. Though as they sailed in, he'd be in perfect position to listen to the conversation above.

"-Bad.Bad...Every fish we've gotten is bad. Look at it! These gills are black as tar! Maybe we should get one of the druids or something to check it out."

"And worry everyone when they should be celebrating? No...Look, we got enough in our stores for this. We'll draw the fish for the festival from it and hold this for later. If somethings spoiling the fishing grounds, it can wait for a day at least. Spread the word in the meantime-no one goes out to the fishing grounds till we get someone to look into this!"

Taxion processed this information as best he could. It sounded like some dark magic might be at play, but he knew nothing about that. It was probably best to stay out of it for now. He needed to focus on his task at hand. His claws quiver, as his hand readies to pounce on it's prey. The movement, shadows fluttering under the soft waves. He plunged his claws into the water.
 
Korvol Dutaine

Korvol nodded, and said "It looks like really well-crafted armor, and you wear it well. High Hope is lucky to have someone as dedicated to its safety as you." He smiled cheerfully. "I am uncertain if I will ever pick up much heavier armor while I am here. I value the protection such armor would bring, but I would hate to drown in a marsh or bog while traveling the environs." He paused and asked "What sort of sentimental value does your armor hold, if you don't mind me asking? I understand of course if you do mind. After all, we have only just met." While he often considered his own outlook to be one of measured pragmatism, Korvol nevertheless understood the sentimentality of such things. Even though his own shield once bore the sigil of the bandit lord The Horned King upon it, a white viciously-grinning skull of a human with multi-point buck antlers growing from each side, and wearing a spiked yellow crown, all on a deep black background, he was loathe to part with it, as the sturdy shield had served him quite well. He instead had chosen to paint over the infamous and damning heraldry rather than acquire a new shield.

He explained what he knew of Hemlock. "I only know Hemlock by reputation, as I spend much of my time tracking bandit bounties outside the town. I do recall seeing him this morning. He seemed to be preparing for a long trip. Now that I think about it, it does seem odd."
 
Reluctantly Forte would join the others as the Dwarf drew his map in the dirt and explained their situation, the red Tiefling turning his nose up at the notion of being anywhere near the middle of their upcoming fray. "Tempting as that sounds, I'm going to have to pass on that one. I can ensure the beast doesn't run or try to flee however." That was all he was willing to do to help the group of hunters. And once the beast is downed, he would hope to use an investigation check to see if he can find any useful plants.
 

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