Oh, dear friends.
My deepest and most profound apologies.
I had been feeling rather poorly the last several days, and was in quite a bind with this entry deadline looming on the horizon. In an all-too-common scenario of “I know the friend of a friend of a friend who…”, an acquaintance of mine sent me the name of a distant friend of hers. He went by the name of Harbin Wester, and he sometimes did freelance work such as this. Upon my contacting this Wester, he explained that he was quite preoccupied with personal events in his life at present and would not take on the assignment. I was disappointed, of course, but then I received a parchment not too long after that from a gentleman who went by the name of Thack. No last name. He seemed articulate in his correspondence, if a little terse. He said he had heard of my predicament from the general chatter of the village (in which Harbin must have lived as well?). He told me he was a warrior by trade, but had been looking to practice a new skill in his letters. And who am I to perpetuate that raging dumb warrior stereotype? I sent him my notes, requesting he send his transcription of them for my perusal. Which he did promptly.
And at the first reading, I was appalled. Especially by that slight to myself in the very beginning. I also did not care for the frequent references to himself and his actions and victories. I threw the papers to the ground in disgust after I’d finished, with no intention to let that version ever see the light of day.
And those papers lay there until the next morning, when I picked them up and glanced at them once more. This time with new eyes and a clearer mind. And yes, while I still chafe at his reference to my wordiness, I cannot much fault the writer’s voice. It is quite unusual, yes, but that doesn’t make any less interesting. After reading his work for a fourth time, I found myself smiling and laughing in places that I snorted with disdain at just the night before.
And that is why I let the last entry stand as is. It is a good thing for a change of scenery and pace, yes?
I do apologize for what must have been your extreme surprise at opening up the blog, and seeing what awaited you there. You must have thought me unprofessional? Or that something terrible had happened to me? Nay. I am well now. I regret that I did not make a short post to inform you of my temporary departure. I shall be more mindful in the future.
And keeping Thack’s words close to my heart, I will see if I can make today’s writing more concise and efficient, without sacrificing the integrity of the adventure.
Without further ado, away we go! Rome was not built in a day and I cannot give up all my ways in one day. Therefore, I will still include the lineup here:
Carlos: Half-Elf LG Storm Sorcerer (Anderson)
Andraste: Wood Elf CG Monk (Jenny)
Thro’Viloanna Hlaendeth AKA Vilya: High Elf NG Wizard (of the Divination School) and her snake, Astraeya (Maddy)
Brynja of the Shadowaxe Clan: Dwarf CG Twilight Cleric (Heather)
Thack: Dwarf NG Barbarian (Brent)
Remember, our brave questers had just returned from their adventurers in the Mansion Magicale to find TWO dead bodies. One was their friendly, innocent guide Fembrus (sad emoji face here) and the other, the wise sage Matreous (”wise”, ha). The very man our heroes were in Candlekeep to consult with. Tragedy, indeed. Cause of death appears to have been poisoning by the dragon statue (that must have come to life when Matreous brought it back through the portal). The party discusses their options, which include but are not limited to: dragging the dead men back into the mansion, resting here for the night with the dead bodies, or resting back inside the magical house before returning to Candlekeep tomorrow.
However, before there is consensus, another man enters the abode, sees the grisly scene, and demands to know what is going on. He introduces himself as Avequem, and says he is another sage in the city. Whether he and Matreous were lifelong friends, it’s unclear, but I suppose when one sage dies, all the sages feel the pain, maybe? Avequem then says he will escort the party back to The Hearth to rest and then he tacks on the very suspish “and we’ll see what happens in the morning.”
Hm. There is much back and forth in the conversation, and it seems things are about boil over when Andraste demands to know: “Why are you smiling? Your friend just died.”
Touche, Andraste. Touche. Notes do not indicate that Avequem provided a reasonable answer. In the end, it seems the course of action is to head to The Hearth. To be truthful, some of the party sustained some considerable ouchies and so a rest would be a good thing.
The dwarves and half-elf need all the sleepy time they can get (8 hrs), but the two elves (Andraste and Vilya) only need four to feel completely rejuvenated. Which is great, because there is work and mischief to be done!
Four hours later…
Andraste, utterly refreshed, heads down to the common room to see who else is up.
Vilya, also totally refreshed, rolls a Natural 20 in a Perception check to see if she can hear the snores of an ogre (remember Little One?) as she creeps through the inn’s corridors. She appears to hear something, but it is soon revealed that LO is located in the downstairs of The Hearth. Still reading, notes appear to determine. And guess WHO he’s talking to?
That’s right. None other than the overly-friendly-but-slightly-awkward-because-its-her-first-time-in-the-big-wide world Andraste. As Vilya enters the room, obviously hoping to find Little One alone, Andraste waves to the elf warlock and implores her to “say hi.” Surprisingly, Vilya just does that, but shortly departs the room.
Her time will come, she knows, her time will come.
Meanwhile, the conversation between Little One and Andraste is reminiscent of a droplet of water on a hot skillet: all over the place. Still riveting, however…
A: Do you know anything about a cure for the blight on these crops?
LO: Did you ever find Matreous?
A: Oh, he died.
LO: What happened??
A: Well, bye. I’m tired (oh, is she?)
The night passes without much else occurring. Little One finishes another book, probably.
The party awakens to find Avequem waiting for them. “Good morning,” he exclaims, “what are your intentions today?
And like, daaaaaaayum, just like that, he’s already getting all up in the group’s business. Does this man want printed itineraries of all the members of the party or what? Sheesh. Eventually, more circular conversation results in this major point: Matreous is dead, and if the party needs information and advice from him that badly, they will provide the $$$$ to take him to the temple and have Raise Dead cast upon him. Avequem and the other sages of the Candlekeep simply do not have the funds to undertake this entire cost. And, the party members simply don’t have the coin either. I mean, it is a lot of money.
And that is the quandary our noble heroes face at present.
But, it is this discussion of money that perks up the ears of a human nearby.
“Greetings, friends. Do I hear you are in need of money? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Oswald. I am a coroner and I am en route to the hamlet of Greymoor, where I am to investigate a recent death. If perhaps you would accompany me as an escort there and back, I would gladly pay for your services.”
More questions are asked of this new source of income: How long is the journey? Are there any dangers? What are the perceived threats? Are there deer? Oswald’s answers: Two days journey there and back. Rumors of attack by bandits. No deer that Oswald knows of. Thack is in.
Vilya attempts to Bluff Oswald: “Listen. We won’t work for free. And we have other offers of employment out there. Make it worth our while.” Sounds pretty convincing, right? It should have worked, too, if it were not for the 9 on Vilya’s Deception Roll.
*Sigh*
Long story short, the group decides to accompany Oswald to Greymoor, where he will be investigating a death in the village. Cause of death, he says: Slashing. The coroner agrees to not only pay the 25 gp for each party member’s time and skill, but he’ll also foot the bill for the nicest Airbnb in Greymoor. Avequem loans the party a book to use upon their reentry (Mazfrost’s Mighty Digressions. Bet LO has read it), and the entire group does their best Arnold the Terminator voice to Silnar on their way out, saying, “We’ll be back.”
Heading east from Candlekeep, the group come upon the main thoroughfare running north to south, called the Coast Way. As they traverse, Brynja attempts to learn more about her fellow dwarf by asking if he knows anything about the environs, has he heard of the Cloak Wood they are passing by? Thack says, “No. Me from Serpent Hills.” However, listening to Thack’s short and sweet answers are MUCH preferable to Oswald, who really has nothing cool to say except how awesome he is, how much work he’s done, etc. He’s probably a Master Level Mansplainer.
Alas, friends! I have already broken my promise to keep things short in this post. Let me remedy that with the rest of the entry here.
1. In Greymoor, the party happens upon a new dead body, not the original one Oswald came for. The death is actually so recent, there is fresh blood and newly-gathering townspeople.
2. It is discovered that Oswald is playing loose and fast with his job description. Turns out he’s not really a coroner, but a dead people tax collector. Like, really? There is such a thing? Sounds like a graverobber.
3. George is the name of the dead man and there is a long, seeping gash from his shoulder to his opposite hip. He appears to have been slashed.
4. Oswald is here to survey the remains of Sir Thames (like the river in England?), known as the “sheriff” around these parts. Was known as, anyway. RIP, good sir.
5. Sir Thames has been dead two weeks, murdered in much the same manner as George.
6. George has a daughter, Erin, who has not yet been informed of her father’s death.
7. There is a mention of a Father Derigor, a priest of the moon (and Brynja gets a good feeling at that news), who may know more information.
8. Further info-gathering reveals that this is the 5th death in the last month, and all causes of death are similar: a great slashing and some bite marks, leading some of the townsfolk to believe the killer is not human.
9. Carlos, as a Lawful Good character, is pretty rankled by Oswald’s unethical and downright gross way of getting “paid”. And Carlos feels there’s gonna have to be some kind of reckoning.
10. Based on the discussions of the townspeople, and on Vilya’s Knowledge check, these heinous crimes are looking to be committed by a lycanthrope. A werewolf. Man-wolf. She-wolf. Whatever. Equal opportunity killing going on here.
11. Brief rest for the group that goes into the late afternoon, and then there is a decision to make: Follow Oswald to Sir Thames’s resting place OR travel to George’s home to try to tell Erin of her father’s demise OR go see the Father Derigor guy.
Everyone wants to do everything, and there is no doubt that everything will get DONE. Because that is the type of steely resolve that our brave questers have. However, where to go first…will be decided next time.
As always, friends, your unwavering loyalty is forever my life mission. I do nothing but serve you.
Your faithful and fearless scribe,
Heather