Party 5

Reader mode
Barovia, Fauntleroy thinks. It’s not a familiar name. In fact, it’s so completely unfamiliar it’s strange. She’s sure she knows all the city-states on the Sword Coast— possibly Greater Faerun even. The fact that the name is so unfamiliar is a nagging annoyance. “Strange. I thought I’d heard about all sorts of places on the Sword Coast, but I’ve never heard of Barovia.”

She reaches inside her pockets, finding that she only has gold coins. She purses her lips thoughtfully. “It seems I am all out of copper coins. I only have gold coins.” She looks at the bartender. “Is that an issue?”
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

Edmon nods softly at Carwyn as he gets up to leave, then sets his eyes on the kitchen door seemingly expecting the pudgy figure of Arik to return at any point. Only after a minute or so does he glance up at the cleric while his back is turned, a soft frown on his face visible in the candlelight. An almost imperceptible sigh can be heard in the quiet of the tavern, and he resigns himself to sitting put on his stool, hands balled into fists and placed on his lap.

"The Sword Coast...?" Sorvia's expression is awash with unfamiliarity, until a sense of understanding seems to dawn on her. "...Ah. So it was the mists, I see." As she says that word the very air, normally still, seems to shift with a newly found chill. Or was that just the breeze from outside? "It has been a long while but I have seen it before. Of people not ending up where they expected, far across the lands. It's just that not many find their way to Barovia, of all places."

She taps her quill curiously, seeming to think about it. "So you are from this 'Coast of Swords'? I have not heard of it, but regardless you do seem to speak Balok rather well so it must have been nearby. Unless of course, this is another machination of the mists... strange indeed." At the mention of gold coins she shrugs off the previous topic like she was discussing the recent weather. "Well gold is gold no matter where you go madam, and it seems yours is legitimate enough. I presume you go by the standard conversion of 10 coppers to a silver, and 10 silvers to a gold piece?"

In the meantime Arik soon comes back out with a small bowl of porridge and a wooden spoon, along with a larger second bowl. As Edmon immediately takes the spoon out of his hands and starts munching away (not terribly satisfied with the bland taste but powering through nonetheless) he returns to the bar and fetches a tall pitcher of water. On exchanging glances with Iselka by the side he also picks up a glass and fills it to hand to her, before pouring the rest into the second bowl so it can be brought upstairs.

Having finished his business he returns to the bar and looks at the group, particularly Balion and Gimble who seem to be idling around. "Wine? Or food?" He intones with the slightest inflection of a question, though there is little perceptible emotion in his demeanor.
 
Gimble chuckles and rolls his shoulders at Sorvia's spot on comment. Then cocks an eyebrow "machinations of the mist? unknown to the Sword Coast as well? This is seriously giving me the creeps." The barman's words startle Gimble a bit and he replies "Food. Please, the best stuff you got." Gimble rubs his hands together in glee and to distract himself from his previous feelings. Unable to help himself though Gimble turns around to once more speak to the Lady of the inn. "How long 'as it been since ya've seen people like us before? Also are there any jewelers in town?".
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

Arik glances over at Gimble with a thousand-yard stare, almost like he was zoning out to make calculations. He steps back into the kitchen and, after a few minutes, returns with what seems to be a reheated vegetable stew and some more porridge. "The best," he says unironically. Gimble could almost swear that he shrugged at him, unless it was a trick of the light.

"Like I mentioned to your friend that went up, our resupply day so happens to be tomorrow so we're out," Sorvia pipes up, turning in Gimble's direction. "You're a... halfling? Or a gnome, was it," she mutters, trying to place the features. "My sisters and I used to travel a lot when we were much younger, but I've barely seen any at all since we've settled down here. Not that many people in general come to this tiny village... to call it a town is far too much of a stretch." She pours another cup of tea for herself with a stifled yawn as her gaze passes over Iselka and towards Fauntleroy and Balion. She seems to frown a bit, looking at their ears. "There has been a history of elves in the valley... though it is not necessarily a good one, as far as I'm aware. Most people should mind their own business but I'd still be careful if I were you."
 
"Full blooded gnome and jeweler at your service, I do rings, necklaces,anklets and earrings. As long as you can provide the gems and setting material. *Ahem* I myself am in a shortage of sorts. Nothing ordinary I assure you." To everyone else Gimble's accent had changed however to his companions they understand Gimble is in full salesman mode, a weird accent filled with trills and high pitched consonants. "Business is always open and I would pay for any information on potential customers!".
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

Sorvia raises an eyebrow at the sudden salesman pitch, but soon smiles, ultimately amused. "My, are all gnomes this... outgoing? It's a welcome breath of fresh air in this old village." She leafs through her papers, filled with various notes most likely on financials but perhaps other things as well in flourishing cursive. "Not much goes on down here, but information is something we might be able to provide. My youngest sister is more on top of that than I am though."

Closing one book flat she seems to consider Gimble's proposal. "Unfortunately I'd have to say that you won't find many customers here. I don't remember if you gnomes are more accustomed to the darkness than normal people but if you looked at the houses around you'd probably be able to tell that most people can barely afford to feed themselves. Haven't gone north in a while but your best bet is probably the town of Vallaki up north, or perhaps trading with those... Gundarakites down south, if any of their disenfranchised nobles still care for shiny trinkets. And the richest man in the domain is of course, Strahd himself." A grim chuckle escapes her lips. "Maybe if it's not too cloudy you can spot the castle when you step outside in the morning."
 
“It seems,” Fauntleroy says, “both of us are unfamiliar with each other’s area, despite the fact that before we ventured into the forest we were on the Sword Coast. Fascinating.” The half elf says it like judgement. Something was off here. She leaves the bar be, to come closer to Sorvia as she studies the woman’s face, questions about coin conversion forgotten.

“I speak several languages, and I’ve heard of quite a few more— but Balok isn’t one of them. Pardon me for asking, but what do you mean with ‘the machinations of the mist’?” They did encounter mists after all. It checked out. The fact that it seems to be a thing that happened more often...

Fauntleroy is a little taken aback about her comment on elves. Generally, being a half-elf hadn’t given her much trouble— though some of that is because she rarely ventured out of academic circles. “We’ll keep it in mind. What sort of legacy do the elves have here?”
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

"Hmm... Balok is native to these parts as far as I'm aware, but it does also take a lot of vocabulary from other languages... like Vaasi?" Sorvia rubs her chin, letting out another yawn as she tries to get the gears in her head turning. "That one's more widespread I think, almost like a common tongue among scattered travelers. Perhaps I'm mixing things up, it's hard to pinpoint sometimes where one dialect ends and another begins when you've learned snippets of them all." She rubs her eyes underneath her spectacles, stifling another yawn. "But I've seen enough in my day to know that the mists... well, almost seem to have a will of their own sometimes. Change things without anyone noticing. I'd try to understand it beyond that but I hear those that attempt it simply go mad."

"As for the elves' 'legacy'..." She sighs slightly, glancing over their elven features once more. "The nobility line has had a... 'history', shall we say, of having minority populations draw their ire. Before it was the dusk elves, and as far as I can tell they've been reduced to near nothing despite once having a decent population. Before my time," she notes with a shrug, though it does little to dissuade the subject. "Now it's the Gundarakites. They're human at least but not enough of them pass through for me to catch onto their dialect, and I doubt many others would even spare the effort to try."

Edmon in the midst of all this lively conversation manages to finish his porridge and, after fidgeting awkwardly for a bit trying not to interrupt the adults talking, slowly gets up and heads to the bar, sliding the bowl and spoon back to Arik. "T-Thank you," he says meekly, slightly in Arik's direction but also vaguely to the room in general. The bartender nods and immediately turns to start cleaning the finished dishes without skipping a beat.

The young boy returns to the table and after waving goodnight to everyone picks up the bowl of water with both hands and starts his way up the steps, careful not to spill anything. If not interrupted he finds his way to Carwyn's room and sets the bowl on the creaky wooden ground below him, before knocking twice softly. "Mister, um, Carwyn...?" he asks inquistively, testing the doorknob and slowly pushing through with a creak once he realized it was open. "I brought your... bowl."
 
“The issue of dialect in these parts sounds fascinating,” Fauntleroy has to admit despite herself. “I wonder if there’s anything written about it. I’ve never heard of Vasili or Balok.” She frowns as Sorvia talks. “Change things how, exactly?” she presses for details. “I don’t need to know what exactly the mists are made of— just examples of what they have done are fine. Rumors perhaps even, if there’s so little known of these mists.” Something is wrong here— it doesn’t take a genius to tell.

“I haven’t heard of any dusk elves before,” Fauntleroy says. Her frown deepens. “How long ago did they live?” Did she perhaps stumble upon something of importance here? It isn’t a clue towards her goal, but the idea of discovering a whole new subrace of elves is pretty exciting nonetheless. “I’ve never heard of these ‘Gundarakites’ either. What did they do to draw ire?”

Fauntleroy hesitates, glancing at the table full of paper. “Could I borrow some to make notes on all of this, by any chance? I can reimburse you.”
 
Balion takes a seat, listening and trying to learn all he can. Looking to Arik, Balion gives a thankful nod. "Water for me, please." This is a bit much for him. He watches over the child, albeit silently, until he heads up to Carwyn. He is used to being viewed differently. Especially his time in the Sword Coast. "Mists that play with the wheels turning...this does not bode well." He then turns to look at Sorvia. "Due to my lineage would you recommend I wear a hood then? Also, this...Strahd you spoke of, should we worry about how he might handle us being in his lands considering that?"
 
Hearing the boy at the door Carwyn says a quick prayer to Eldath, casting her guidance on himself before he gets up and moves to the door, helping to open it so that Edmon can come in locking it behind him. He is feeling a little stronger now, a little more composed with the bandages on. He takes the bowl from the boy and ruffles his hair affectionately, setting the bowl down near the bed and sitting down on the other bed gesturing for the boy to come over. "You don't need the mister stuff, just Carwyn is fine. You can even call me Cary, lots of people do. Come here lad. Lets check to make sure that you aren't hurt." Taking a few minutes to thoroughly check over the boy, without being in anyway rough, he is satisfied there is no infection, disease or injury. He has dealt with injured children in the past and he knows that it is difficult for them to hide any injury that could be really dangerous. He pats the bed next to him, trying to be as welcoming as he can but encouraging Edmon to sit.

"I bet you hate it when people call you lad actually right? I know that I used to. Edmon then. This is a strange situation we find ourselves in isn't it. Seems we are somehow a long way from home and I won't lie to you Edmon, I don't know where we are at all. I know that must be scary for you but you have been really brave, I'm amazed. One day you will grow up to be even stronger than me I'm sure." He gives the boy a warm smile and pretends to flex a little, laughing. "I won't ask what the wolves did to you but I want to tell you a story. One day there was a boy who was walking alone when some bad people wanted to rob him. He fought back but they were much bigger and much stronger and they hurt him a lot. But someone found the boy and made him healthy again, and taught him how to use magic to heal people and make them better too." He smiles down at the boy. "That boy was me, so I know that you can get through this. And who knows, maybe you will even use magic one day."

Carwyn yawns, stretching a little with a wince and a slight cough. He gets up off the bed and sits on the floor, pulling the bowl towards himself. "I bet you have been wondering what this is for right? I'm guessing you pray Edmon? Chauntea maybe, or a brave warrior like yourself prays to Helm possibly? I am a priest of Eldath, the Mother of Waters. The bowl is to help me pray." He looks to Edmon with a smile but a seriousness in his eyes. "I know that you don't know me yet and you likely don't trust me but I swear by every ounce of Eldath's peace that I will keep you safe. Stay by my side when we are out of this room. I trust all of my companions with my life but I trust little else about this place. Now, prayers and then bed." Carwyn slowly washes his hands in the bowl, letting the water run over his fingers, before cupping a very small amount in his hands and delicately washing his face. If Edmon prays to whichever deity he follows Carwyn will let him pray uninterrupted. If he chooses to try praying to Eldath with Carwyn the priest will take him through the steps and hold his hand in the prayer itself. Then, when the boy settles down, Carwyn moves back to the seat and sits watching the door only letting himself fall asleep after Edmon does.
 
Gimble quietly listens to the conversations transpire around him a little offended that no one took up his offer to drink. Respecting their decisions though Gimble Quickly finishes off each of the glasses of wine and feels the following euphoria. "Ha, this place isn't so scary after all. Still got booze, stills got friends" He then drops off his stool and ignoring the stares usually given to an intoxicated gnome walks up to the lady and gives her a gold slurring "This here is for three rooms, keep the cha-." Then, the third drink hits and Gimble hits the floor snoozing.
 
Blood of the Vine Tavern:

"It's Vaasi, dear. Not Vasili," Sorvia notes, starting to stack some of her records into a neater pile. "If my memory serves me correctly the latter is even the name of some fellow that's passed through once or twice. One of those traveling rich folks, stands out when you mostly get drunk farmers and the like this late at night."

"Still... you are not familiar with the mists at all? It is simply something that exists, here. It surrounds the land and comes and goes." She tilts her head. "If you have never heard of them, then I daresay that in finding your way here you've confirmed one such 'rumor', that it can bring in outsiders from other worlds to our lands. That it can even claim other lands, like how the Gundarak lands were suddenly opened up to ours one day. Nothing disruptive, they were simply... there." On Fauntleroy's request for some paper she rubs her chin for a moment and then picks out a stack of blank parchment, handing it to the wizard and offering the quill and ink by her side. "You lot have been rather generous with your gold tonight so no reimbursement necessary."

Turning to Balion she adds, "It of course might be strange for some to see an elf walking around so openly, but I doubt you have anything to fear from the regular townsfolk. As for the Count... the supposed campaign on the dusk elves was centuries ago, far before Count Strahd Zarovich the III's time. I do not know where his opinions lie on that front, though he has been occupying himself recently with lording over his new territory so who knows."

Looking down at the passed out Gimble next to her table she raises an eyebrow and looks to everyone still awake. "Erm... I thought it was getting late, but it seems your little friend is feeling it even more than I am." With a tired sigh Iselka gives her glass back to the bartender and goes over to Gimble, picking him up. "I'll put him in a bed so you can keep talking if you'd like. I don't know how you guys normally do sleeping arrangements but I don't care who takes the second room with me." Nodding goodnight and keeping her belongings close to her person she begins to head upstairs.
 
Fauntleroy starts writing down everything Sorvia tells her as soon as she is handed the paper. Her notes aren’t particularly orderly, as she’s more focused on trying to get the words down before they fade from her mind. She glances up as Balion joins the conversation, slowing down her writing. “As much as it annoys me to say, I think caution will suit us best.” She shakes her head, muttering things such as ‘other worlds’ and ‘dusk elves’ as she does.

“This is absolutely fascinating from an academic viewpoint. Teleportation of whole lands to a new world? That sounds unprecedented where I come from. But from a personal standpoint...” Fauntleroy taps the edge of her quil on the bottle to shake off excess ink. “It does not bode well for us.”

She glances up when Gimble falls over and Iselka picks him up. “Good night, Iselka,” she says after a few moments of deliberation. “I suppose it would be best if I were to join her in the room tonight, yes?”
 
Carwyn's Room:

"Sure thing... Cary." Edmon nods as he takes a seat on the low bed, trying his best not to fidget or fuss as he's inspected for injuries or diseased. Most of the bumps and scrapes are obvious, being located precisely where the rips on his clothes were. While he was still a bit hesitant of it all, the cleric's insistent care for him did seem to warm him up, just ever so slightly. Just enough.

He lets out a small chuckle at Carwyn's attempted joke, before listening curiously to his story about himself. He perks up a bit when he says that he could learn to use magic one day. "R-really? Magic always seemed like something... I dunno, something hard that important people in the city got to learn. I've never really been to the city though... or that far out of Daggerford even... Papa said he'd take me one day when I was older maybe."

Sniffling and rubbing his nose, he idly swung his legs over the edge of the bed, watching the prayers unfold. "I've never really... been to a temple or anything. But Mama had this thing in our house dedicated to Lan--" He pauses, like it's on the tip of his tongue. "No, La...than...der? The... Morninglord, I think. We... haven't really prayed in a while though. Mama's always busy."

He looks up from the bowl back at Carwyn when he talks about trust and keeping him safe in this strange land, softly nodding again. A simple gesture, but all he could think to do. After seeming to think about it for a few seconds, he slowly gets off the bed and peeks at the bowl over the man's shoulder. "Can... can you show me how? I don't know any prayers by myself." During the teaching process he is quiet, contemplative, like he's trying to overanalyze just what the prayers meant, but it is clear drowsiness is soon to overtake him. Regardless, the warmth of the priest's hands on his own is comforting, in a way that the room itself lacks.

Stifling a yawn and wiping his hands dry (in that order), Edmon promptly climbs back onto the bed and pats the pillow, settling in for the night. After turning back and seeing that Carwyn instead returned to the seat by the door, he simply nods again in understanding as he begins to pull the thin blankets over him. "...Thank you," he says finally, before turning to his side and closing his eyes.
 
Last edited:
Fourth Day
  • Index
    • Blood of the Vine Tavern:

    Sorvia eyes Fauntleroy curiously as she watches the wizard frantically write down notes, desperate to get the knowledge down. "Quite the enthusiastic one I see... I hope your search for the answers you seek is fruitful, or at the very least not rotten. Who knows where that will lead you... I sure don't." Stowing the last of her records into a weathered satchel by her side, she takes her teapot and mug and walks over to the bar and places them on the counter. "Regardless of how many more questions you might have I would recommend retiring for the night sooner rather than later. I'm sure someone will be around in the morning if you need it."

    Looking over to Fauntleroy, she nods slightly as she picks up the oil lamp on her table with one hand and wraps her shawl around tighter with the other. "Otherwise, you and your group are welcome at any time as long as you continue to be paying customers. Academics are a rare breed in these parts and it is a breath of fresh air." She makes her way up the stairs, and her soft steps can be heard creaking all the way to the end of the hall before they fall silent.

    The two downstairs eventually leave Arik to his slow plodding cleaning and each find a bed for themselves -- Balion opposite a sprawled out Gimble, Fauntleroy next to a sleeping Iselka curled up surrounding her meager pack of belongings, the salvaged spear leaning idly to the foot of the bed. Hearing nothing beyond the howls of the winds outside and the creaking of the thin wooden walls of the tavern in resistance, the relative silence of the night is enough to eventually bring about the lull of sleep.

    -----------------------------------

    The morning comes without much fanfare, light dully seeping through the overcast sky. There's a slight chill to the air, and looking out the window a soft fog can be seen rollng along the hills and woods beyond the village buildings. Nevertheless the day has started, with birds in the air and the occasional early riser on ground level, walking briskly toward their destination. With the morning light the run-down appearance of many of the surrounding houses is more apparent, with many houses seeming to even be boarded up or abandoned.

    Coming back down to the first floor of the tavern, the main room is slightly more lively than before. There's a handful of plain-looking villagers scattered about between the tables and the bar, several of whom have farming tools or other equipment laid next to them as if this was a quick stop before getting to work. At the corner table where Sorvia sat the night before is a slightly younger similarly dressed woman, occasionally glancing around the room as she works on a small knitting project. Arik meanwhile continues to man the bar, barely looking like he ever left the bar at all last night -- though the drunkard from before is nowhere to be seen. The main door to the tavern is slightly ajar, letting in a slight breeze, and every so often an annoyed female voice can be heard just outside the building.

    welcome_to_barovia_by_jonpintar_d9bz6nh.jpg​
     
  • Index
    • Gimble's eyes are heavy with dread as he stirs in his sleep, having a dream of an oh so familiar darkness that he cannot seem to escape from. With an inhale Gimble starts awake, looking around his room he realizes he has a pounding headache from last night. "Ohhhh, ouch.. They got some strong stuff in Barovia!" Grimicing as he heads for the bar he looks at Arik. "Could've told me thats been sitting down there for 30 years! I need some water sir. Please." Gimble finishes as he puts a gold on the table. "Got any change?" Gimble Stays at the bar nursing his water and his hangover as he keeps an eye out for his compatriots.
     
    Carwyn slowly wakes up, wincing at the residual pain in his side. He lifts his robe and checks the bandages satisfied that the wound hadn't reopened overnight. Lowering the robe he gets up gingerly moving over to Edmon in the bed. He looks down at the sleeping boy and smiles, happy to see the kid resting after everything he had been through and almost considered letting the boy sleep in. Unfortunately there was too much to do today and he wouldn't leave the boy somewhere he didn't know. He doesn't like anything that has happened since that mist came down and not knowing anything about the area is disconcerting. Still, plenty of terrors look mundane in daylight and he is sure things will improve today. Keep the boy safe, find out exactly what happened and find out how to get home.

    He pulls the blanket back and gently shakes the boy awake. "Morning Edmon. It's time to wake up. We can get some breakfast soon and get you some new clothes, those have seen better days I think." He pokes his finger through one of the holes in Edmon's tunic before helping the boy to sit up, and preparing the bowl of water ready. "I am going to do my morning prayers. I know one to Lathander if you would like, or we can focus on just Eldath. These prayers are what help me prepare my spells for the day. You seemed interested in magic before. Maybe one day soon I can even try teaching you something." He sits on the floor, in the same place as before and holds out his hand to Edmon to help him down off the bed.
     
    Blood of the Vine Tavern, Main Room:

    Arik's gaze passes over Gimble directly towards the gold coin on the table, staring at it a bit but does not reach for it. "... Change?" He asks like there should be an inflection of curiosity though it is absent. Meanwhile he pours a glass of water from a nearby pitcher and slides it over. "It's... free. Anything else?"

    The woman in the corner meanwhile turns to the newcomer, immediately perking up with an amused smile. "Oh goodness, aren't you a small one? It'd be nice of course if we could get the wine to age that long but alas, people around here basically drink it like water." She twirls a knitting needle idly in one hand and brushes her hair back behind one ear; Gimble can see the glint of a small piercing dangling down. "Did you come in last night, dear? I haven't seen your kind around in a while and I am always *terribly* interested in hearing what strangers have to say."

    Carwyn's Room:

    Edmon doesn't respond immediately at Carwyn's prodding, stirring slightly in what seems to be a deep sleep. After a while he finally blinks his eyes open, staring past Carwyn to the half-open window as if still trying to wake up or assure himself that it's morning already. Eventually he starts to process Carwyn's words and slowly reaches up and rubs his eyes, before sitting up. "Morning..." he starts, letting out a soft yawn as he starts to slowly get off the bed. Upon the mention of magic he perks up and tries to get himself to focus, turning to the cleric and looking at the prayer set-up curiously. In the new daylight he can almost see his own reflection in the still water. "Um, whatever you think would be good," he says, sitting down near Carwyn and hugging his knees slightly as he waits.
     
    Fauntleroy wakes early— it’s her habit. Late nights and early mornings, getting up before the rest of the academy would so she had some time to study in peace. She slips on her coat again and runs her hands through her hair in lieu of using a brush, before she tries to creep out of the room without waking Iselka.

    She halts at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the sight of the room. It’s more lively this morning, but it doesn’t help her shake the unease off. She spent most of the night awake in bed, pondering over Sorvia’s words. The mists, strange elves— whole different worlds.

    She doesn’t quite manage a smile as she heads over to the bar to join Gimble. “Master Waywocket,” she greets. And then, after a long, awkward pause when she remembers to— “Hope you slept well.”
     
    Gimble looks at Arik bemused "Could ya give me 9 silvers and 9 coppers or an equivalent in exchange for the gold Arik? The copper is a convenience payment. Thanks bud" Gimble turns to the unexpected greetings by the woman. "My size makes it easier to get in and out of places I want to go, Ma'am. This time it took me somewhere I hadn't expected." Cocking an eyebrow at the slight glint of jewelry, he puts on a smirk that turns into a smile. "Aye, an' who do I owe he pleasure? I'll always give time to a friend." Blatantly trying his charm.

    Seeing Fauntleroy awake he waves his hand towards her "Doctor! Good morning to ya, about as well as could be imagined. I was just about to lay down a tale for my friend here." Gesturing to the woman.
     
    “Don’t let me stop you,” the professor says, glancing at the woman. She inclines her head towards her before she glances at Arik. “Barkeep, is it possible to procure breakfast here?”

    She starts getting her spellbook, the notes from the night before stuffed between its pages, out of her pack to start studying before they headed on the road. To where, she didn’t know yet. She supposes that’s a question to be discussed when all of them are present.
     
    Carwyn nods as Edmon sits down and moves the bowl of water in between the pair of them, hoping that Edmon can remember some of the steps himself when they start the prayers. "Now Edmon, Eldath is a goddess of calm and peace so this morning I will be asking for spells to help keep us safe, to cure any ills or wounds we might have and to stop anything trying to hurt us. Preparing the spells is a simple process, I just imagine the spell in my head when I pray and Eldath gives me the ability to create that spell if I need to. Learning the spells beforehand is what takes all the time. Some of them I know by heart though." He traces a small symbol in the air and says a single word in Celestial. <"Guidance."> Pressing his hand onto Edmon's stomach he lets the light of Eldath's guidance flow through you. "You feel that? That's divine magic. That is Eldath giving you help with something you want to do in the very near future. Whatever it is you wanted to do." He smiles at the boy and ruffles his hair before settling down to start the prayers.

    He slowly washes his hands, before taking Edmon's hands and washing them too, and prays in simple terms for protection, guidance and strength. Eldath was never a goddess for ritual or flamboyance, just the touch of the water and the purity of heart. He lets Edmon follow along with each prayer. "We can pray to Lathander too now, it doesn't matter if you pray to more than one god or goddess. Even if you are sworn to one like I am." Then he holds Edmon's hand and shuts his eyes. "Morninglord we invoke your name at the new dawn. Give us inspiration for the day ahead, let us improve ourselves with every step." Prayers done and feeling himself calm and steady thanks to the presence of Eldath, although something feels a little different this morning and he can not really put his finger on what it is, he stands up and helps the boy up. He grabs his belongings and the bowl and ushers Edmon out of the room and downstairs.

    Seeing two of his compatriots downstairs Carwyn is relieved, he is glad they are both safe and sure that Balion and Iselka are too now. Being in a strange land among new people seems more bearable when he has some of the people he trusts the most around him again. It feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, although only partially given their situation. Putting the bowl down on the bar Carwyn lifts Edmon up onto a bar stool easily, only feeling the slightest twinge in his side now, before dropping his pack next to the boy's chair. He looks to the barman Arik and nods respectfully. "Breakfast and water or juice if you have it for Edmon here please." He turns to Fauntleroy and Gimble, giving them broad smiles. "Good morning you two, nice to see you both up early. I hope you both slept as well as possible."

    He turns to the woman that Gimble has been talking to and notices the knitting, thinking suddenly about Edmon's clothes he goes to speak before the sound of the annoyed woman outside caught his ear. Thoughts of tailors behind him he is now concerned that any problems in the street may find there way into the inn, and he doesn't want anyone inside to be in any danger. Frowning he turns to Fauntleroy and points to Edmon. "Can you please just keep an eye on him please? I'm going to look outside at the shouting." He thinks for a second and adds something in with a wry smile. "Oh and don't let Gimble teach him any tricks." He makes his way to the door of the inn and cautiously opens it, looking out to the street beyond.
     
    Last edited:
    Seeing that Gimble had an audience now he begun his story. "See me and my own were scouting out a particular Goblin hideout supposedly filled with loot and trade goods that they had plundered from passing trade caravans, so Yorin, Jourin, and I. -They were some lads I picked up from Phlan. - I convinced them that there might be opportunity if they were to follow me. Trusting upon my sources I was right! The goblins were there and they had some fine looking candelabra's and food as well. So I reckoned that the more valuable stuff would be kept in the only intact room part of that rubble. So in the dead of night we snuck into the hideout and right when I went to pick the door Jourin taps my shoulder and points behind us there stood four goblins all aiming shortbows at us!" Gimble looks around at the audience to gauge their attention before continuing. "That is when I knew I had two choices in front of me, fight and die, or make a dash for it and have a chance at coming back another time." Holding for dramatic effect. "Well I couldn't leave those lads behind! Would've been horrible! So we fought those Goblins and barely made it out with our lives."

    "So How about you tell me a bit about ya-self?" Gimble nods toward the woman.

    Carwyn coming down, Gimble turns to greet "Aye pretty well" then "Hey what's that supposed to mean? He couldn't afford it!" yelling after Cary and looking down at Edmond, "I'm just jesting ya lad. You doing alright?"
     
    Fauntleroy only belatedly realizes that she’s being addressed, her nose already inbetween the pages. She frowns. “Master Carwyn, I’m not some sort of childminder.” But it seems he’s already gone to the door.

    As such, she turns her gaze to the child, feeling severely uncomfortable. He was a little young to be a student, she thinks. “Hello, child,” she says after a few moments. “Young master Edmon, wasn’t it? Now— don’t get into trouble or something. Master Carwyn will be disappointed in you, or somesuch.” Deeming that enough, she turns back to her notes from the night before.
     
    Reader mode
    You must log in or register to reply here.

    Users who are viewing this thread

    Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)

    Similar threads

    Brianne13
    ISO of RP Partner
    Replies
    2
    Views
    326
    Brianne13
    Brianne13
    Back
    Top