[PF] Mal De Mar IC I

[Cardea]

Player
Character
Race
Class
K.A.
K.D.
K.E.
K.G
K.H.
K.L.
K.Na.
K.No.
K.P.
K.R.
Misc.


Aldurin
Arolith (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=796342)
Tiefling
Incanter
✓
✓
✓





✓




Michael 7123
Gaxis Astéri (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=796637)
Elf
Psychic
✓


✓
✓



✓

✓


fendrin
Flannan "Red" Russell (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=836420)
Human
Symbiat
✓
✓

✓
✓
✓
✓
✓
✓
✓



SlyJohnny
Tommy (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=810771)
Halfling
Paladin (Divine Hunter)









✓



AmberVael
Asenath (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1mEh_WMVFGi1QmG8CUbwtueDcm049ThAAHZov3SdFxpU/edit#gid=0)
Tiefling
Mageknight






✓

✓




FarmerBink
Fidjit Warrywick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=806586)
Gnome
Unchained Rogue














OOC Link (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?490222-PF-Mal-De-Mar-OOC-I)

The Inn was only just waking up. The fire from the night before was only a memory, as the hearth stood cold and unmoving. Chairs were put on top of tables as one inn worker swept last night's rushes out to put in the new set for the day. The windows were opened up to let in the cool mountain air, and to air out the aroma of last night's crowd. And food was being prepared in the back rooms, to serve for the rest of the day. The Inn was only just waking up, and yet already, eight people had gathered.

Sibling tieflings, the travelling halfling holy man, the trapper gnome, and two orphans, one human and one elf, sat in a semicircle. In front of them sat the mayor, who sat in front of the dead hearth, but sat before a table filled with an assortment of odd items, but items that had become the stuff of legend in the years since the incident. A haversack made of dark brown leather, a gold coin that was heads up to display the face of the current ruler, King Crorta, a thick, heavy scroll wrapped in a band of horse hair, a plain longsword, and a closed letter. The eighth person in the room, the owner of the Inn, Robert Yaro, was bringing out a platter. Eight cups, a pitcher of honeyed milk, eggs cooked and seasoned with black pepper, thick crusted bread with sides of jam and butter, and a few slabs of ham. He took a few gold from the mayor, and retreated back to the kitchens.

"So," Arthur Brask started, smiling weakly. "We know you're leaving. All of us know you're leaving. And... well... I wish you were leaving for better reasons, but I know I can't stop you, so I won't. We've put off your questions for years, but this will be your last chance to ask them, I suspect. Ask away."

[SlyJohnny]

Tommy is eying up the items on the table with an inscrutable expression. Though he's been away for over a year, the halfling is barely bigger now then when he was a boy. That and his youthful face- along with his thick brown hair still being in the same style his mother cut it, complete with the single rogue forelock dangling down the centre of his head- give an uncanny impression of having stepped back in time to when you were all children. When he speaks, his voice is soft, calm. Another thing that hasn't changed with age.

"It's a wonder you managed to keep these things locked away for so long. They captured our imagination. There's not a boy in town who didn't dream of being the one to wield that sword, or gain magical powers from that scroll. I always coveted the coin, myself. I imagined it would change into a hundred coins if only flipped it just right, and then I could buy my siblings new toys and my mother fine dresses and my father a new pipe."

He reaches out to the table, hand passing over the coin and picking up the pitcher of honeyed milk. He looks questioningly at everyone round the table, and pours a cup for each person that indicates they want some. His eyes flicker over the eighth unused cup, but he doesn't comment on it.

"Are we sure the traveller perished, that night? Was the body ever found? Was any attempt made to track whatever fought him? There were claw marks... do our most learned have any idea what left them?".

He pauses, sipping his honey milk. He looks to the side and smiles as he swallows, savouring the taste, making the most of the small moment.

"Why did you conceal what you knew until now, mayor? What secret was so important, that it was kept all this time?"

[Aldurin]

One of the tieflings sat on a chair he had watched his mother craft in the distant past, still trying to get used to the explorer's outfit he bought a few days ago. He was used to wearing simple designs of clothing his whole life, and he now tried to ignore the bombardment of sensations from the seams of every pocket and fold brushing against him. "Thank you, Robert." It was an automated courtesy from Arolith when the food was brought over. He spread some jam on a slice of bread, proceeding to chew on it and some ham while he tried to filter his questions. To actually get answers to some of the questions that had nagged at him for years was causing every curiosity to flood forth. Why did his sister discover her magic on that same night that the stranger vanished? How come different magic came more easily to him when he decided to study it? Who was the stranger? What was written in the letter? How did the damn coin work?

He worked through his questions, focusing on the ones he knew the mayor could answer. "What were the contents of the scroll and letter? What prompted the need to hide the details of the incident from us for so long?"

[fendrin]

Red

The slender young woman accepts some honeyed milk from the tiefling, looks at it a moment, then sets it aside.
She eyes the others in the room somewhat warily. She had seen them around, but they are strangers, mostly.

Well isn't everyone, the way you keep to yourself?
Mal, if you don't have anything useful to say just keep your thoughts to yourself.
Hmph. If you're going to be traveling with them, you should make an effort to get to know them.
Yeah sure, whatever. What can you tell me about these things?
...
Yeah, I expected that. I'll just have to do it myself as usual.

She takes the letter off the table and begins reading. Perhaps because of the dialog in her head, it has escaped her notice that she still hasn't said anything since they've gathered.

As she examines the letter, she picks up her cup and brings it to her lips, but pauses distractedly before drinking, looks at the milk, and puts the cup back down, the beverage remaining untasted.

[Michael7123]

There is a glass of milk and some bread in front of the only elf present in the semicircle. The food had remained untouched from the moment it had been laid down. The entire time, the elf was focused on the scroll, seemingly trying to absorb every detail he could from the parchment.

He hadn't made a move to touch the thing yet, let alone unwrap it. In fact, he hadn't moved at all, aside from the occasional blink and the slow movement of his breath.

At the mayor's opening up the table for question, the young elf finally breaks away from the parchment before asking a question."A few nights before the... incident.. did anyone notice anything strange going on up in the mountains where my family herded sheep. Anything at all?" From the tone of his voice, it's faily clear that Gaxis doesn't expect to get much of an answer.



Casting Detect Magic. Psychic spells, so everyone else would pretty much just see him watching it intently. I'm specifically trying to figure out the nature of the scroll.

[AmberVael]

With a nod and quietly spoken but respectful thanks, Asenath mirrored her brother's courtesy to the innkeeper. Her long, olive-green coat was immaculate, the fine embroidery on its high collar and cuffs a rarity in the village that indicated its unusually high quality. Combined with her strict posture, her courtesies and appearance gave the rather misleading impression of nobility and refinement.

Her hands twitched uncertainly in her lap, and then she furtively removed her black gloves, trying not to draw attention to her hands and their thick, dangerous nails as she accepted Tommy's offer to fill her cup and selected a portion of the rest of the meal arrayed before them. While the others asked questions, she carefully ate and listened. The others seemed to have enough questions for all of them, and the questions she really wanted answered probably were beyond the mayor.

[Farmerbink]

For the moment, Fidjit's inactivity overpowers her name. The Gnome, easily mistaken for a young girl, is simply overwhelmed. The torrent of questions warring for some sort of dominance over her consciousness ebb and flow, none quite making it to the surface, has her eyes scan over the gathered accoutrements with a glazed expression. She failed to notice Tommy's wandering glances, and so sat without plate nor cup.

A stunned silence, led by the paralyzing effects of choice beyond comprehension affirms its grip on the young woman. Thoughts flit by beneath the surface, but nothing of her awareness rises to interact with reality until the mayor's voice startles her from her reverie.

[Cardea]

It smells like must and old glue, like rotten berries and stone. It smells like something drowning, and a cloying feeling comes off of it, your skin feeling clammy. You feel yourself being looked at, while it radiates a magical aura, after the first look over it, its magic light fades, eating itself into darkness.

You can tell it is magical, but after the 1st round, it reveals no other information, and its aura disappears.

Brask turns to Tommy first. "We aren't sure, because a body was never found. And some of the hunters followed his trail for two days before a blizzard forced them back. And best we can approximate is that they are wolf marks." He pauses, sighing. "And we concealed it from those that didn't need to know, while we sent some of our own to pursue the man. Only one came back, and she died two months ago. You'd have known her as Uma. She was another tracker that makes trade with us. She... wasn't able to talk about what happened. All we know from their efforts is that we lose four good folk, and these things came back with her. And we kept it hidden because we were afraid. Afraid that bringing it up, making it the talk of the town, would invite unwanted attention. There are reasons why talk of the Old King is rare, and true or not, these things could bring about talk of him again."

He turns to Arolith now, holding the scroll out to him. "You tell me, Arolith." When unfolded, the parchments greets you with this:


http://i.imgur.com/jPMoGyS.png

He turns to Gaxis, a look of concern on his face now. "No, but maybe one of the fieldsman might know. Much of the town was taken with the goings on in the inn that night. Why? Did you?"

[SlyJohnny]

"Oh... I assumed these objects had been left behind in the room. You're saying she recovered the items, but no body? Or the search party brought the man's posessions along on the search?" says Tommy. He searches his memory for what he knows of the old king, and why things pertaining to his reign are a taboo subject. He tries to think back to that fateful night, wondering if he remembers the man carrying the bag they see before them.

"Did Uma leave behind a widower, or any living relatives? I would like to speak to them. I don't wish to add to their burden of grief. But maybe Uma said something to them. Even something she murmured in her sleep might help us."

He chews on what he's been told. "Was the room investigated? I suppose all the damage has since been replaced. I would've liked to have seen those claw marks."

[Aldurin]

When Arolith sees the text on the scroll he stops chewing, completely lost on where to even try to read it. The script could be of an unfamiliar language, magically-encrypted text or complete gibberish. He resumes his normal behavior after a few seconds of failing to get anywhere with the scroll and reaches for the letter to see if it at least contained something readable.

[AmberVael]

Asenath gave the scroll a cursory look, but she didn't express as much interest in it. As Tommy continued the conversation and continued to express interest in the traveler's room and the claw marks though, her grip on her cup tightened. She carefully took a drink and set the cup down gently, deliberately, and then drew her hands back to her lap.

"I saw the marks." She volunteered softly. "I passed through the inn late, so I was there. They weren't left by any local animal; they were the wrong shape, and a wolf can't cut through solid oak furniture in one swipe."

[Farmerbink]

"I saw the marks." She volunteered softly. "I passed through the inn late, so I was there. They weren't left by any local animal; they were the wrong shape, and a wolf can't cut through solid oak furniture in one swipe."

Finally drawn from her stupor, Fidjit nods along absently. Her gaze drifts, unseeing, as she recalls the view from between adult men's legs as she weaseled to the doorway so long ago. "Yeah, there was definitely something wrong about that room. No regular wolf can leave gouges in the solid wood like that. Besides, as I recall, the old man didn't have any pets er nothing. Whatever made those marks must have come in the window after him, or..." She trails off again, leaving the alternative unvoiced

[Michael7123]

As Gaxis listens to the mayor's response, he lets out a sigh and shakes his head. You didn't expect a different answer. Well, you know nothing less than you did coming in here at least.

As the scroll is opened, Gaxis stairs at the paper blankly for a few moments before starting in on the food he had available to him. He had expected the first time he would get to see the inside of that scroll to have some more of an effect on him.

Nothing happened. He couldn't say he was surprised about that.

[Cardea]

Hey fendrin, sorry, you got first go at the letter.

"No. Hunters tracked the man and found some of the items. And later, a party tried to find the man. And..." Brask stops pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry. I've tried not to think about this as best as I can. Uma was a widower, though she trained some of the other hunters in the area. The room was indeed investigated, and we have cleaned the room in the past years."

"And you are right, Asenath. Uma identified it as a... erhm... as a horrid lion. They're things made when the Nemesis came to our world, by various druid circles."

In the morning I'll have sent this to you, my darling Avala. The roads are too long and the trails are too steep, and all the more of a torture without your loving care. I pray to those above and around us, those things that witness my pilgrimage to right the wrongs of our families. I pray each night.

To Father Vei, I pray to see each morning. To Brother Breigos, I pray that I am not overtaken. To Mother Grikanth, that the corruption not overtake me. To Sartulk, that I dream only of you. To Guardian Acaragos, that my roads are warm and food is plenty. I pray to the women of the seasons, that they do not deter my path. To Oushala, I pray that my efforts are not wasted, and my time not stolen. And to Tressik, I pray that our efforts be not in vain.

I say this prayer each day and each night. I travel in solace. I go to the woods. I go to the paths rarely taken. I only stay where the beds are cold. I go where those of the old times cannot see me for what I really am, who we really are. I go where we aren't known. I go to beg forgiveness from the old lord.

I will send this letter to you in the morning. By the time it reaches you, I hope I am where I need to be. And I hope I can be in your arms again soon. I love you, Avala. And I pray you have forgiven me for leaving without you.

- Neatha

[SlyJohnny]

Tommy ***** his head as he reads the letter over Red's shoulder. He searches his memory for a mention of such an "old lord" one might beg forgiveness from, in any of the religious texts he's read.

"We should try to translate the scroll, if we can. Any linguists amoung us?"

His eyes turn to the sword. "Why can't that blade be wielded?"

[fendrin]

Red

Mumbling something to herself, Red snaps the letter shut and hands it back over her shoulder to Tommy.
Doesn't he know how annoying that is? Whatever.

She take a sip of the honeyed milk, grimaces, and puts it down.
Too sweet.
I think it's delicious.
Do you, or are you just being contrary?
Heh. You decide.

With a sigh she turns her attention to contents of the letter and the various things that the mayor and the others had been saying.
"Wolf marks. Horrid lion. Window broken... but the story I heard said that the fight started before the glass broke, and that the shards were on the snow. That means the window was a means of escape, not intrusion. You don't shout about kings to animals - so there was probably someone else there.... but only one stranger was seen, and the other was inside before the glass broke. Either they entered with magic, or... did any locals go missing that night? What made you conclude it was a horrid lion? Size of the marks and strength needed to do that damage, or were there more specific clues, like fur or paw marks? Could it have been something else, like a werewolf or demon? Were there any tracks outside other than the stranger's?"

Slow down, give the man some time to answer.
With a wordless mental growl of annoyance towards the thing that lived in her head, she relents - her thoughts however, continued to whirl at the same frenzied pace, trying to make connections, to fit the puzzle pieces together. There is an answer, a single true account of what happened that night, and she wanted to know what it was.

Avala. Neatha. Old lord is the Old King? Who are 'those of the old times'? The phrase 'what I really am' - literal physically am, like a werewolf hiding in human form or a demon possessing a body, or more figurative, see him as a coward, a traitor, a thief, or something like that? Maybe it's connected to the corruption mentioned? Was the stranger writing this letter, or the recipient, trying to to find the sender? Or perhaps neither - a hunter sent to track down Avala? Maybe Avala was hiding here and was finally caught?

Too many unknowns. Focus on the knowns, avoid assumptions.

Is the mayor hiding anything, or intentionally being misleading?
Sense Motive [roll0]

Knowledge-fest! If anyone thinks of anything else I should roll about, let me know.

About the Old King and the people named in the letter - Avala, Neatha, the old lord, 'those of the old times':
History [roll1]
Nobility [roll2]

About the gods and the prayer - anything unusual or interesting?
Religion [roll3]

About any locals that might have gone missing and Uma
Local [roll4]

About horrid lions
Arcana [roll5] edit: oops, I originally had horrid lions and demons together, this was supposed to go with the demons when I split them up.
Nature [roll6]
History [roll7]

About the Nemesis event and demons
Planes [roll8]
History [roll9]

[Aldurin]

Arolith looks over the letter, passing it along in disappointment when he discerns nothing of use. "Arthur, what are the reasons that people don't talk about the Old King? I haven't looked much into the history of that time, but I don't understand what could have happened then to lead people to be so quiet about him."

[Farmerbink]

As all the talk about horrid lions and unknown names continues, Fidjit seems more and more confused. "Why... If his letter says he kept to the woods, and uses the ill-kept paths, what was he doing in our tavern, that night?"

She rubs a spot on her temples, revealing vibrantly painted multi-colored fingernails. "None of this makes any sense... I don't even know where to start! He prayed like a priest, but..." She turns to her friends and acquaintances, gathered about the table in the dim morning light. "Do any of these other names mean anything to you all? Avala? Neatha?"

[Cardea]

"See for yourself, Tommy."

"Its a matter of power, Arolith. The Old King refers to something or someone so long gone and forgotten. No one knows who he was or what he did or even what race he was. The only name people can give him anymore is The Old King. And ever since the Nemesis came and went, things like that are even under more scrutiny and fear. So when the stranger claimed it was dead... it made us all worry. Even the brothers Velg and Varg went on alert. They put their library into hidden caches just so no one would go purposefully digging it up."

"It might be he came here on a whim, or because of how remote we are in the Kingdom. We're not exactly a crossroads of commerce. And those names remain a mystery to myself as well.

[Aldurin]

"Unless the Old King is some sort of immortal horrible and malignant force, speak of him is no reason to be afraid. This sounds like the result of poorly-kept records being twisted into vague legends." Arolith tries to suppress his annoyance as he begins to flip the coin on the table, trying to make the third side appear. "Can you ask Velg and Varg to exhume the records they buried? This stranger has some connection to the Old King, even if it's something as loose as retracing a path through locations with significance to the name. We need a lead to go on, and superstition shouldn't be a valid reason to impede finding it."

[Farmerbink]

Fidjit surprises herself, nodding along with Arolith's words. "Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe we can find some connection there? Though...." She sighs. "I guess I can see why it's been a mystery so long, huh? There really isn't a whole lot to go off of, except maybe following his tracks- and we know how well that panned out...."

She scratches her head with a handful of variegated nails for a moment, when her eyes widen in realization. "Say, do we know that the trackers were going somewhere in particular, or were they just following tracks in the first place?"

[Michael7123]

Gaxis continues to remain silent and continues eating. He doesn't really have much to say at this point, so he watches his companions interact with the mayor. His own questions had already been answered.

[AmberVael]

Asenath knew of horrid lions and their ilk, but little more than what they were called and vague tidbits about how monstrous they were. Yet, the explanation seemed a little unsatisfying to her. Such a creature was a dangerous beast, a creature of terrible strength and unusual size, but in the end it was a beast. Surely there was something more to it, something that could explain what had happened to her.

Left with only that tidbit to torment her, she instead turned her attention to the sword as Tommy asked about it, and when he did not immediately reach out to try his hand with it, she carefully picked it up instead and attempted to draw it out.

[Cardea]

"And that kind of thinking is what let Nemesis get so much power before anyone took up arms, Arolith! Arthur shouts, a rare thing. "You want to absolve us of these things but you want to be bullheaded and blind without a hint of caution! It isn't carelessness that makes us cautious, boy, it's experience!"

He stops, leaning back into his chair. He slows his breathing, and the flushed look dissipates slowly. "They followed tracks as best they could. If they changed their direction later, we don't know. Velg and Varg might. They know of your intention to leave, already."

Asenath pulls on the handle, and the blade comes smoothly out of its scabbard. A plain longsword, but cleaner than it has any right to be. A silvery sheen covers it, and even where the light does not hit it, it seems to reflect it. It is nearly weightless, lighter than another sword you may have held, lighter than any skinning knife too. Balanced, poised, perfect. Arthur calls out: "Swing it."

[Aldurin]

Arolith remains silent, wanting to argue back but thinking better of it. He waits to see what the others do with the remaining items.

[AmberVael]

Asenath flinched as Arthur yelled and then looked aside, her neck flushing though she maintained her poise and composed expression. The sword settled on her lap, put aside until Arthur reminded her that it was there. She looked at him for a moment calmly, then stood and attempted to swing the sword in a short downward arc.

[Cardea]

As Asenath swings the sword, hissing sound can be heard from the blade. What started as a downward swing curves, and Asenath sheathes the sword. "It does this to everyone who wields it," Arthur says with no small amount of annoyance. "It always turns itself, always moves, always does something, to put itself back in its sheath."

[SlyJohnny]

Tommy has begun to inspect the bag, turning it over and over in his small hands. He runs his fingers over the fabric, checks it for side pouches, delves around inside it. He looks up as the mayor scolds Arolith.

"Noone here is doubting your experience, Arthur." he says, his tone gentle, conciliatory. "But sometimes a new set of eyes can see new things, and some mistakes must be made so we know to fear what we should fear. I appreciate Arolith's perspective. He meant no offense."

He spares a glance at the sword.

"Try... try not wielding it. Just hold it still. Maybe it... wants something. Will it consent to cut wood? Or flesh? Try slicing the ham."

He turns the bag inside-out and back again, his hands busy as he talks.

"Are we waiting for someone, mayor? We've a spare cup." he says, nodding to the eighth tankard.

[fendrin]

Red

Red stands abruptly, angrily, inadvertently knocking over her mug of mead in the process.

"Caution is one thing, but willful ignorance is another matter altogether. You want to keep you and yours safe, I get that. I don't have anyone left to protect because of things I don't understand - how can I protect anyone if I don't know anything? Would anyone have been safe from the Nemesis if they just kept their heads buried up their..."
Good... good... let it out... you've been too bottled up. Revel in your anger, let it flow...

Red stops herself, and takes a deep breath. Not good to fly off the handle like that. Losing control could be dangerous.

"Please understand that we..." she glances around at the others, whom she barely knows.
Well, 'I', anyway but saying that won't help anything.
"we don't mean to be reckless. We just want to know - this incident could be the harbinger of something very, very bad... and ignoring it could spell disaster for the entire town. You must know that, or those records would have been destroyed, not hidden. Please, help us. With the guidance of your experience we can do this cautiously. Without that we will do it anyway, but most likely more recklessly - even if we don't mean to."

She looks down at the mead pooling around her boots, and sighs.

"Damn it, I just cleaned them."

[Farmerbink]

Fidjit smirks, once more drawn from her reverie by Red's impassioned outburst. "Yeah, but doing things recklessly is usually more fun!" She jumps atop her chair, pounding her tiny fists on the tabletop- to no discernible effect. "I could sneak in, and you could- wait, what do you do again?" Her eyes widen to a comical size as she realizes how bad that all sounds in the context. "I mean, uhh.."

Thoroughly embarrassed before the mayor, Fidjit stares into the floor, redder-faced than usual. "Maybe I should stick to trapping," she mutters. "Rabbits and squirrels have the same skin, no matter how excited you get..."

[Cardea]

Brask breathes in, sighing, and collecting himself. He addresses Tommy and Red. "Then listen well. Old names, of things, of places, of creatures, incite them. Brings their eyes to the speaker. And the older it is, the more power it has, until it can look at nicknames, at adages attributed to its person. Names like his, speak of the... old ones... can make them look our way. Its not a irrational if you have proof of it working." He undoes the button on his left sleeve, rolling it up. Halfway up his forearm, the flesh is marred and pocked, healed over and swollen in comparison to his right. No hair grows on it, and while Arthur is tan from windowed sunlight, his arm is an out of place pink. "Curses can hurt more than the intended. You need to remember this if you draw the attention of those that can bring them down upon your name. But! The sword can't be swung. But in its early years, we tested it. We placed it carefully in a vice, and pressed things against it. Wood did not cut, but flesh and meat it did just fine, like a razor. The eighth cup is for someone else. I've another meeting here later today."


Brask's left arm has been exposed to acid several times, and healed over just as many, making the overall tissue of his arm swollen from the extensive scarring.

[Aldurin]

When Arolith sees the burns on Arthur's arm, his eyes widen a bit. "I . . . I didn't realize. I apologize for my ignorance." He takes a look over the objects again, realizing the danger they posed. "So any relic, person or concept of the past must be handled with caution, lest ancient forces of malice turn their attention to us?"

[AmberVael]

"Maybe later." Was all Asenath said in reply to Tommy's suggestions. Instead, she carefully set the sword aside and began to examine the sheath, wondering if it was the real key to the sword's unusual behavior. Of course, Asenath knew very little about magic, let alone magical items. All she could do is give the sheath a critical look and hope there was some odd sign to it that might explain things.

Mostly, she felt like she was done here. Nothing had really addressed her own questions, and she doubted anything more revealing would come up.

[Cardea]

The bag itself is made of three layers of leather, with an interior of wool. The stitching is done expertly, and carefully, and done over and over for endurance. Its reflective, and looking it over you realize the thread itself is made of tightly wound iron thread. Inside the bag is debris from the wilds: twigs, grass, leaves. But nothing of deliberate importance. On the outside, there are three compartments, but they're all of a similar quality, and they all contain similar contents.

[SlyJohnny]

Tommy nods grimly on seeing the mayor's arm, as if confirming something he wondered at previously. He doesn't seem surprised, as if he's seen that sort of thing once or twice before.

As he roots around the bag, he abruptly raises both eyebrows, the small gesture appearing exaggerated by his normally taciturn face. It's just as unexpected as if he'd screamed aloud in shock.

"Red. You've spent more time out in the far woods then any of us. I imagine you know the foliage of each area." Tommy says, turning to to the human woman who's only a foot or so taller than he is. "Where might these have come from?" he asks, producing a couple of leaves and some bark shavings from the bag.

"Of course, we've no way of knowing when he picked up which bits. But I imagine the looser bits are more recent, whereas the stuff that's got well stuck is more likely to be from earlier in his journey."

He surrenders the bag to Red so she can more easily search it.

[Cardea]

While you can't identify anything specific about the foliage, you realize that the contents are fresh, as if they were picked only a few minutes ago.

You are able to recognize the twigs as from the south, though not specifically what kind, as the trees from the south produce bark that is a much more vivid brown than the harsher things you may find farther north. The leaves you recognize as being from Northern Oak, which produce leaves of a shade of pale mint green.
You don't know anything regarding this topic with this check.
You don't know anything regarding this topic with this check.

[Farmerbink]

Fidjit looks up with a surprised expression. "Woah-" she reaches out and plucks one of the leaves from Tommy's proffered hand. "These are like- did you pluck them this morning? I've never seen leaves hold their color for more than a few hours, before..."

The expression on the young-looking girl's face raises questions about whether she'd rather hear the answer or just continue tracing the fine veins of the leaf's face. There's wonder in the small things, after all.

[AmberVael]

Asenath put the sword back in its sheath, carefully set it on the table, and then looked at the pouch herself. After all, as a hunter she'd roamed all over the local area, and would know if anything was local.

"No. They're from too far apart." She turned towards Fidjit and tapped one of the leaves she was holding, then the twigs. "I've seen these leaves in the northern forest. But the bark is from the south."

[SlyJohnny]

Tommy raises an eyebrow.

"...Fresh? How can that be?" he muses. He turns the pack over in his hands, pondering.

Finally, he removes a length of rope from his pack, ties it around his waist, and grabs a lit candle or lamp if there's one handy. He takes a couple of deep breaths, and then slips his tiny body into the mouth of the bag.

[Farmerbink]

"...Fresh? How can that be?"

Fidjit holds up the leaf, perhaps obnoxiously close to the Halfling's face. "See here, how there's still sap in the veins? That usually drains out in a matter of minutes, either when the leaf is plucked, or before it falls, actually. That's often why the leaves fall in the autumn, and-"

Her eyes widen in realization that she's more excited about the leaf than... anyone else, and curls her lips in a small, self-conscious frown. Her rosy skin almost hides the deepening red of a slight blush.

[Aldurin]

Arolith immediately turns his attention to the bag when the others express their shock at how fresh the leaves are impossibly fresh. He steps over and takes a look at the bag, trying to come up with ideas on how it functions this way.

Spellcraft and Knowledge Arcana and Planes to try to understand how the bag works.
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