DrK Slumbering Tsar IC

[u-b]

Roger has no problem eating a rat. It certainly could have been cooked better, but we have what we have. He chooses wine over ale. "How much do I owe you?"

Spoiler

Show

Roger settles in and starts chatting casually...

I don't think that's how the spell works.

The target of this spell sees and hears a stream of past scenes and pieces of conversations related to local people and events. The flashes are so brief that it is impossible to identify individual people or places, but when the target concentrates on a particular topic or individual, she can piece together a coherent narrative told in a multitude of changing voices in her mind.

So, Roger just sits, concentrates, and listens to the stuff discussed here and around here some time in the past. I'll spend an extra casting of the spell to hear these rumors (they seem to be helpful). Accounding for the other topics of interest (some could be deemed to reuse the information from some other posts):

Places and people at 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 on the local map
Gurg and Gorg, Tsar, The Dead Fields, Ashen Waste, Orcs, Goblins
Six most recent trips into The Desolation, whether successful or not, by anyone

I'd target a paragraph each. Hopefully, you can copy-paste them from somewhere. Failing that, Roger is willing to take in the remaining 23 rumors or something.

[DrK]

Hastur found the Urser’s answer completely unhelpful. He follows most of the others toward Mama Grim, but gets sidetracked by the female half elf working under this Skeribar. The young woman is the first person to provide useful intel about the desolation. “This is the exact sort of information I’ve been looking for! A concerted effort to clear it of danger is exactly in line with my own mission - I would love to hear your thoughts and Skeribar’s on this matter. What manners of creatures live out in the ashen wastes? How have you gotten anything to grow here? And how much to contract your services?”

The half elf woman utters a low throaty laugh. "Well you are certainly keen aren't you. The Ash wastes are the tamest of the four areas of the desolation, certainly the northern stretches (chaos rifts and boiling lands) have been afflicted far worse. Though they are were the most valuables are. As for us, Skreibar does the pricing but we are at least 20 iron per day, and thats for one of us rangers and the dogs. The trees, well thats out in the ash wastes, some 40 miles to the NE of the camp in the northern reaches of the ash wastes. The Garden of Teliboar is where Skeribar learned his tricks. THeres some other ruins in the ash wastes, Tark Mound lies 50 miles north almost up by the crossroads, that Tark was a savage warlord and we avoid his barrow. The tranquil garden is a haunted walled cemetery 20 miles north and the Tomb of the sleeping night is only 15 miles from the camp though its swallowed more adventurers than we can count." She shakes her head, "The hermit" and she points to a small well made tent supported by wooden slats near the edge of the camp (#3), "Simon says he he has reached it." "Now away with you unless you mean to hire us. Skeribar would be unhappy with the free guiding."

--

In the sip of blood Roger hands over 4 slivers (each 1/10th of an Iron) and listens to the frontiersmen and adventurers and treasure hunters that make up some of the patrons. He listens intently as they chatter and gossip of news and rumours.

“Don’t trust the mercenaries and guides you can hire in the Camp. I think all of them harbor secrets and agendas that come before those they have been hired to protect. Ironically, I think the giants were the most trustworthy of the lot, though I fear we have probably seen the last of them.”

“Have a care Raef, I’ve seen giant wolf tracks at the outskirts of the Camp. One night there were screams. The next morning I found a shack at the edge of town smashed and splattered with blood. The wolf tracks were there. - No, you say that, I reckon its beasts coming down from the Rifts."

“If you’re looking for a guide to take you out in the wastes, nobody knows it better than Skeribar and his men. They charge steep, but they come home alive so that counts for something.”

“Nobody goes out much at night here in the Camp. People that do tend to disappear. I think it’s the doings of that death church myself, but don’t tell ‘em I said so. I don’t want them coming after me. Funny thing is, anyone who stays inside is usually alright, even if it’s just in a tent or a lean-to.”

“If you travel the roads of the Desolation at night, you’re sure to run into the Lost Caravan…all that’s left of the unluckiest merchants to ever try to cross the wastes. You’ll see and hear strange things that can’t be explained, but that’s okay. Just step aside and let ‘em pass, and more than likely they’ll go on by, though a few people do disappear. Those that bother them, though, are doomed to join their cursed journey forever.”

“Them gnomes that run the boarding house are twins. Most folks can’t tell ‘em apart. Heck I’ve never seen them both at the same time…maybe there’s only one of them just pretending to be two…But whatever, there don't be anywhere else to stay in the camp for guests until they build something of their own."

"A fellow passed through here a few months ago heading out to the Desolation. He looked familiar to me from my days as a bandi…er, I mean merchant. Yeah, that’s it, a merchant. Anyway, this guy was dangerous. He’s wanted in several cities, and I’m sure there’s a nice reward for him.”

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko watches silently as his company splits. Uninterested in the tavern, he finds himself scowling down at a rough-drawn map of the wastes- consistent with his own clan's teachings and his recollections, he nods soberly as the surprisingly helpful Half-Elf describes her party's efforts. Hastur's response draws an amused smirk to his otherwise bland expression. After rolling his eyes, he moves on, joining Skynir and the doctor at the witch's hut.

When it turns out to actually be a witch- or rather a hag witches only wish they were, Timoshko finds himself chuckling in genuine mirth. "Of all the things I expected to find here, I must admit you're a surprise," he grumbles. "Are you the law here, or is everyone else just more subtle about being able to rip unwelcome visitors in half?"

[DrK]

When it turns out to actually be a witch- or rather a hag witches only wish they were, Timoshko finds himself chuckling in genuine mirth. "Of all the things I expected to find here, I must admit you're a surprise," he grumbles. "Are you the law here, or is everyone else just more subtle about being able to rip unwelcome visitors in half?"

The hag cackles at the tribesman's words and shakes her head. Lank hair hanging down her back and shoulders. "There is no law in the camp. Might makes right here. I patch up those who survive and our stinky undertaker takes care of those who don't survive." A harsh cackle, "My sisters in the city would laugh should they see me here. The rule of law as thin as it ishere is the Ursurer. He owns the iron, he makes the rules." As she looks at Timishko and the others, "You watch the roads at night. Shadows and worse will take your souls and the guardian of Tsar will do far worse that that. If you are here seeking gold better the barrows in the Dead fields and the ash wastes. "

[u-b]

Other than listening for the end of the evening for any stray rumors from the past, and maybe taking an eventual bath, Roger feels no pressing need to do anything much. He was here to support Izzy's business and decided he could as well wait to see what exactly the needs of that business will be...

[SanguinePenguin]

"My sincere gratitude for the information. My name is Hastur. I'll likely be back to hire one of you on, but that's a steep price - does that include aid against foes, or just guiding?"

After the discussion with Skeribar's crew, Hastur checks to see if other from his party wants to go see this hermit, Simon, and then heads that way.

[DrK]

In the Sip of Blood

In the tavern as Roger inquires as to a bath he is directed by one of the wenches to the Bender Brother's Boarding house. "We don't have rooms or baths here. Just bad ale and worse food mister.." she offers nodding and pointing vaguely to the other side of camp where he has heard the gnomes run their boarding house.

As Izzy has asked about her writ of land she is directed to the grandly named Bard's Gate Embassy. This is the residence of Bard’s Gate’s new diplomatic envoy to the Camp. Sammar arrived a few weeks ago with the Bard’s Gate caravan intent on reaching the exotic northern lands beyond the Desolation in order to set up an established trade route. This old house was refurbished, and Sammar was left behind as liaison and coordinator for the trade route.

[(Un)Inspired]

Skynir's eyes travel upward as the towering hag steps out of her domicile and straighten up; standing almost 3 feet above him.Why grandmother, what sharp teeth you have, he thinks to himself as he appraises the hag. Well she's a healer, and hags know magic, those two facts added together might equal the closest thing we can have to a friend out here in the badlands

Thank you for the warning, and the advice, Mama Grim. I hope we have a more pleasant reason than a need for your healing services, to call upon you again. Our ultimate goal is the city itself, however. No reason to show up to the dance floor if you're scared to waltz, right? You say you've got family still in Tsar? Do you have any message you like us to pass on to them, provided we live long enough to have a chat with them?

After listening to Mama Grim's response politely, he bids her a courteous farewell and returns to listen to the tail end of Hastur's conversation with the ranger guides. I'd like to go with you to speak to the Hermit Simon. Anyone who's got the gumption to make forrays into the desolation and return is worth introducing ourselves to.

[RCgothic]

After receiving directions to the Bard's Gate Embassy, Izzy immediately finished her wind and stands to leave, offering Roger the opportunity to accompany her if he feels like it.

[u-b]

Roger comes with Izzy, thinking it would be for the best to have less re-tellings between him and what stands for the "plan", or the "grant", or the "authorization", or whatever that is...

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko grunts at Skynir's request- or comment, or whatever exactly it was. With no more urgent needs, he dutifully follows along, glancing at the ramshackle tavern in passing.

[DrK]

Off to the Hermit

Skynir and Hastur wish a cordial good day to the Hag who grins a feral grin showing her long canines when they mention the city. "Aye, if you did make it to see my sisters then you'd be welcome to gift three feet of good steel in their black hearts. Thats all they deserve after casting me out." ... As they leave her she offers a small friendly wave before pulling out a piece of unknown meat and tossing it to one of the strange goblin bears.

Seeking Simon the hermit is easy and a question to a man standing behind a small cart selling odds and ends like gets you pointed in the right dierction. A simple wickiup of tree bark stands by itself here showing signs of greater care and attention than found elsewhere in town. As you approach you see a tired looking man in simple robes sat cross legged by a small fire over which bubbles a steaming kettle. Slightly tilted eyes and pointed ear suggest at half elven heritage and Skynir notices the faint wisps of fire burning at one end of the staff and ice crystals small flecks of snow at the other suggesting the staff is blessed with powerful enchantments. As you approach the hermit looks up at you and smiles in a guarded if friendly manner. "Welcome to the Camp. I expect it falls far below what you expect or wanted. Have you met the charming Bender brothers who run the boarding house? taht will be a treat for you."

As you sit he offers tea from his kettle and pulls out a small load of twice baked flat bread and a jar of very old chutney. "Would you care for some food? I am curious as to what brings you to the Camp? I saw the carriages, but they do not look like they belong to you? Are you planning on exploring the Desolation? Have a care it is dangerous. I’ve seen giant wolf tracks at the outskirts of the Camp as recent as two days ago. One night there were screams. The next morning I found a shack at the edge of town smashed and splattered with blood. The wolf tracks were there so even here is not safe.".

As he glances towards a section of the camp where you can distantly see a group of heavily armoured mercenaries (a mix of human, half orc and hobgoblin) he nods. "Don’t trust the mercenaries and guides you can hire in the Camp. I think all of them harbour secrets and agendas that come before those they have been hired to protect. Ironically, I think Gurg and his giants were the most trustworthy of the lot, though I fear we have probably seen the last of them.

Bard's gate Emissary

Leaving the Sip of blood Izzy and Roger trot towards the sod house complete with thatched roof and fieldstone chimney. Deeply recessed windows are blocked by heavy wooden shutters. There are signs of recent repair to this structure and a single flag with the golden horn and lute crossed on a field of red and white flutters from a small pole beside the door. Deep ruts nearby suggest recent carts and carriages but not here now and you would guess that was the caravan that was supposed to head north with Gurg and the giants and has clearly been waylaid.

Knocking on the door you are met by a man you assume is Sammar, the factor from Bard's gate. The man before you wears the finely tailored, though travel stained garb, of an official diplomat. The lyre crest on his tunic identifies his allegiance to Bard’s Gate. He is middle-aged with only a touch of gray in his hair. The worry lines on his face seem to have deepened recently. He bids you enter and nods happily.

“I am Sammar of Bard’s Gate, recently installed diplomatic agent to the Camp. I had sent south for more men to help me in my troubles but had not realised you would be here so quickly." Without realising his confusion about your identities he ploughs on regardless.
"My masters have elected to reopen the northern trade route through the Desolation, and I have been instructed to set up an embassy here to oversee the city’s interests in such a venture. I arrived here with a caravan some weeks ago and set up facilities to serve in the interim until a caravan route could be successfully established and lucrative trade opened up. My caravan departed north not a week ago to open that route and seek valuable trade with the exotic lands of the north. They are not expected back for several months, but I fear ill fortune has befallen them. Though the caravan had its own contingent of guardsmen, for added security they hired a band of ogre mercenaries led by a hill giant to safely escort them across the Desolation. As you are aware, the giant leader of that band returned in none-too-good-a-shape and without his ogre warriors. It is too soon for the giant to have escorted the caravan all the way across the Desolation and already returned to the Camp. Therefore, I fear the worst.

“It is my understanding that you are adventurers who seek to enter the Desolation anyway. All I ask is that you search for the lost caravan and return with any survivors or news of its fate if there are none. For this task I can assure you that you will be richly rewarded by my government. Bard’s Gate is a rich and powerful city with vast wealth from its commerce. It knows how to repay those who give it assistance. Please, will you help me?”

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur welcomes Simon's offer of tea and food. While clearly not luxurious fare, he suspects what he'll have to get at the tavern will be worse. "Thank you, Simon. I am planning on exploring. How big was the wolf print? Skeribar's rangers seemed skilled and to know their trade. What has happened that make you claim their not trustworthy? One of them mentioned that you've been to the... what did she call it... the Tomb of the Sleeping Night? We are planning to head out and I'd love to benefit from any wisdom you can impart."

Spoiler

Show

Know-nature - (1d20+5)[17] (or appropriate) to ID what the wolf is from Simon's description

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko inclines his head gratefully, accepting a small, simple cup that his hand dwarfs. He sips gently, content to accept the offer of hospitality, for what it's worth. Still, he spends more time listening and almost no time talking, his deep brooding eyes taking in the scene with a disconcertingly blank gaze.

[BelGareth]

Constantine stormed off in a huff, damn Ursers, and hags. he was stewing, but he saw Izzy and Roger walking off somewhere, and with nothing else to do, joined them. And he was happy he did, listening to the information, he nodded in understanding.

"Of course! Of course! We even encountered a few ogres on our way here!" he declares "My associates were quick and deadly in their response, can you show us the route this caravan took?"

Spoiler

Show

Constantine
HP's: 48/48
AC: 19 (21 vs evil)
T: 13 FF: 16
CMD: 17 FCMD: 14
Init: +3
Fort: +5 (+7 v E) Ref: +8 (+10 v E) Will: +3 (+5 v E)
Effects: Shield (6 minutes), Protection from Evil (8/10)
Bombs: 10/11/day

[RCgothic]

"Er, that wasn't exactly why I'm here," Izzy replies, both to Constantine and the diplomatic agent, handing over her writ. "I was hoping you could help me establish my claim to my estate. But it's clear operating around here is going to be expensive! If it pays then she, I'll keep a look out for your missing caravan. I suspect we're going to be making quite a few trips out into the desolation."

[3SecondCultist]

Seeing the party split up, Azvigo chooses to follow the larger group consisting of Izzy, Roger, and Dr. Constantine. The archeologist has been busily consulting his notes on the region as they walk through the Camp, to the sound of faint rustling and a grumbling assent deep in his belly as he looks over maps of the area. Though he has been somewhat lost in thought since leaving Mama Grim's, the iron currency - his lifeblood here, and shed in volumes - is securely fastened into the bottom portion of his satchel bags, and so Azvigo is constantly on the watch for cutpurses and thieves.

Upon reaching the house of the Bard's Gate emissary, Azvigo starts to put away his accoutrements and take a listen. When it comes time for introductions he of course tips his hat and states his name with aplomb, but doesn't offer initial comments until he's heard this Sammar speak his piece.

"I don't see why we couldn't at least keep an eye out, yeah," the explorer chimes in eventually. "It's not like we'll be hard up for things to look out for in the Desolation, and a reward is in our shared interests. Our fearless leader here has proven her will, and surely she'll be alright with us taking some detours for funding and favour. Though I would be remiss for not asking on the specifics of the arrangement. How much of a reward are we talking?"

[(Un)Inspired]

Hearing the hag's request regarding her sisters, a great peal of laugher spills out from Skynir, perilously dancing across the razor's edge between charmingly melodious and braying. Ah, uh, well, families are difficult. We'll be sure to pass on your sentiment to your sisters should we see them. He returns Mama Grim's friendly wave and resists the urge to pspsps at her pet, as he walks with his Dwarf and human companions to see the hermit.

Skynir is pleasantly surprised to find not only a fellow half-elf at camp, but someone who possesses courteous manners. He politely accepts the food and tea Simon offers, although he still surreptitiously casts Purify food and Water on it as he does with all food in the Desolation. Thank you for your hospitality, Simon. The Bender brothers, no we haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting them yet. Should we expect a good surprise or the other kind?

He listens to the hermit's description of the wolf attacks and nods along with Hastur's question's about the beast and the guides. Gurg was the trustworthy guide? Okay, well that's one hell of a negative review for the remaining mercenary bands.

We appreciate the warming Simon. Is there anything else you can tell us about the Desolation? If we're better off guideless can you recommend a good jumping-off point for exploration without one? Maybe somewhere on the lower end of deadly, we could explore first to get our bearings?

[DrK]

The Bard's gate Emissary

As he is questioned he points at the road. "Well they travelled north. The road goes directly north through the desolation with nothing else bar the crossroads where the road goes to Tsar or the mountains. I know they were going to pass the crossroads at mid day to avoid the rumours of the spectres that haunt it." He pauses and looks to Azvigo, "There is a reward. A hefty one for finding the caravan. I have two and a half thousand crowns (gp) for location of the caravan, and if the stock is recovered there is the same again along with some magical trinkets from the Bard' gate Guild Arcanum."

At Izzy's comments he blinks hard. "Oh me dear lady, I do apologise. Yes of course. Your land is north of the Camp, some 3 miles to the North West, there was once a town house there but its long destroyed however there is the old cemetery still standing there, Gods be praised, though no-one knows how it has survived" Looking at the sun slowly dipping towards the horizon he glances back to the square. "You had best see to getting rooms at the Bender Brothers guesthouse. Little ingrates they are but the only free house within Camp"

Simon the Hermit

Simon looks at Skynr, Timoshko and Hastur and shrugs. "The desolation is lethal. All the quadrants have their risks. The city is lethal, some sort of monster that is said to be akin to death itself prevents approach to the city. If you are new to the desolation I would suggest you start in the Ash wastes (SW). Its close to the Camp, the more exotic beasts are rarer and all you have to do is watch for the weather for the bones storms where the dust can flense your flesh down to the bone. But plenty of keeps and barrows to look into. the druids are friendly of sorts but I'd be wary as travellers have gone into the trees and never come back"

At mention of guides he shrugs, Well Skeribor and his rangers are experienced, if not well you have the hoboglins of Clintock's 14. Violent and thuggish but effectives.

[u-b]

It was not exactly Roger's business, but to some extent it was, so he felt he better clarify some details. "Three miles to the North West should be fine if there's more than the cemetery somewhere in there. Like, any remains of the wood or stone the former buildings were made from? I wonder how one builds something in these barren lands. Maybe the land is good for agriculture? What do you think would be the purpose of holding that land now?"

Spoiler

Show

...Ash wastes (SW)...

I think that should have been SE. But Izzy's land is still to the west, in the Dead Fields, right?

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko frowns. As the minutes turn slowly into hours, it seems no one has a plan nor a goal. For what will surely not be the last time, he finds himself wondering sullenly about his father's warnings. How can such an aimless rabble carry such importance as the fate of the world? Is this whole thing some cruel joke played by the fates for some unknown slight?

He grunts aloud. "If all we seek is death, guides seem a waste of time. Surely she can find us wherever we dare to wander." He offers Simon an appreciative nod. "I will not forget your hospitality, should I live long enough to make memories of this place."

Turning to his allies, he adds "Shall we rejoin the others? 'Strength in numbers' seems a prudent foundation in such a place as this."

[DrK]

At the factor the man looks at Roger and points at the sun, before slapping his forehaead. "Ah my friend you are right, the north east, that way" and he points to the NE into the ash wastes (away from tsar) for Izzy's land. Shaking his head he mutters about the problems in the savage wastes and how he should have never left Bard's Gate.

With the others floating back to rejoin everyone you all notice that the sun is getting lower in the horizon. The factor looks at Izzyu and nods, "You had best get under cover. Strange things roam the amp at night, the bones run wild and the spirits don't rest easy. Where are you staying?"

[DrK]

It was not exactly Roger's business, but to some extent it was, so he felt he better clarify some details. "Three miles to the North West should be fine if there's more than the cemetery somewhere in there. Like, any remains of the wood or stone the former buildings were made from? I wonder how one builds something in these barren lands. Maybe the land is good for agriculture? What do you think would be the purpose of holding that land now?"

Before you leave the man looked at him, "When they built many of the structures this was before the devastation the war ran long with magics beyond the likes of anything we have seen since released. For now...." he gestures at the Stables, "I would guess you could have materials shipped from Bard's gate. If structures better than these ramshackle hovels are built it might be that the camp expands."

At the second question he shakes his head. "I'm not sure on how to grow things. Skreibor'#s rangers manage and there ae druids in the ash wasete with a large orchard or so I've heard. Maybe they would know more of how to grow things in the desolation?"

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur found the interaction with Simon to be the most pleasant in the Camp so far. He dreaded when he would inevitably learn whatever dark secret the man held. “I suppose the Ash Wastes are the place to start then. I thank you for the tea, and the conversation.” He glances to Timmy and Skynir, and says with the downtrodden tone of a man whose sure he’ll be lucky if he only gets bedbugs from the ordeal, “I suppose we should see these Bender Brothers about lodging…”

[(Un)Inspired]

Skynir smiles and nods in agreement with Hastur's thanks to the hermit. If there's anything we can do for you, as thanks for the tea and advice, let us know. Hastur, What do you think of conducting a bit of Stone Magic with me, and then the three of us can meet the others at The Bedner Brother's "hotel".

Moving with Hastur is he agrees to join, or alone if he declines; The half-elf magician walks to the stone ruins directly to the Southwest of the Well House. He places both his hands on what's left of the stone building and, casting Stone Shape, reshapes as much of it as possible into a secure, reformed building. (If he and possibly Hastur, don't have enough Square feet of stone manipulation today to get it into ship shape, he'll prepare more castings of it tomorrow and settle the job).

Surveying his handiwork with a shrug as if to say good enough for five seconds of work, he turns with his traveling partners and heads to The Bender Brothers to meet the rest of the group and swallows his dread at the thought of what lodging prices are going to look like in Iron Pieces.

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko reluctantly tags along with Skynir as he Elf-blood sets off on yet another detour. Sighing inwardly at the nonsensical waste of time, he crosses his arms to await... whatever it is the shaman is up to in the old ruins. A near-silent snort escapes his nostrils as the spell caster places his hands on fallen stone walls and closes his eyes.

When the stones seems to reform on their own, into something at least strongly resembling the bones of a house, he only blinks in surprise. Once more forced to interact with an unexpected strength, the hulking beast of a man strides forward to inspect the results- now standing alongside Skynir. Without warning, he slams a closed fist into what looks much like a support column, prompting another gasp of air- this one marked by pain and surprise as two of his knuckles split into bleeding welts. He turns to the shaman with appreciation and surprise, rubbing his now-bleeding hand. "That's quite the talent you've got. I can't say I'm eager to live in tunnels again, but it's impossible to deny the quality of the shelter. If you're able to shape out a cellar, it might even be that living in here could be pleasant!"

Smiling at the new development, it's a very different gait marking Timoshko's steps as the trio approaches the Bender Brothers' no-doubt exorbitant lodging.

[DrK]

There a few other looks from the people scurrying about as the stone ruins slowly form into the outline of a structure, one that Hastur certainly thinks he could complete the next day into a usable structure (before some basic carpentry adds doors and windows frames etc…)

Meeting the others they approach the dilapidated looking hostel that is a low spread out ramshackle building of mildewed tarpaulins, wooden planks and sheets of loose metal making the house that stands on some low stilts look less than appealing

By the door you can see a pair of gnomes, not the happy gnomes Bards Gate but hunched little creatures with straggly beards, lumpen noses and ragged clothes. From within the smell of a stew can be sniffed though and that smells good! The gnome looks at you all, ”You are a funny bunch, took you long enough to come our way. Almost closed up for the night. Be 6 iron, 1 fer each of you per night. Another 2 bits (0.2 iron) if you want the stew, real meat aye” he adds

The gnomes look grubby and unkempt and in the boarding house you can all see a central dining area and then rooms off it

People can make s.motive checks

[u-b]

Roger pays 1 iron chip for the night and asks if it is too late to wash himself and/or his clothes. If the service is available, he will pay for that too. He ate at the tavern, so is not hungry. This night he intends to just sleep for a change, not expecting any problems with that.

Spoiler

Show

Sense Motive: (1d20+15)[18]

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur joined his own stored stone shape to Skynir’s to form their dome-icile. After some discussion on what create, Skynir created a half-dome first, then Hastur joined one to it. While the theatrics of a joint casting would have almost been worth it, they had no way to ensure everything would line up perfectly. After it was done - Hastur making sure to fuse, leave an entry and vent at the top -the dwarf was satisfied with his handiwork.

The structure would probably be better served with a bit more work, so, painful as it was, he decided to pay for lodging this night only. However, these Bender brothers do make him nervous.

Spoiler

Show

Sense Motive - (1d20+13)[25]

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko's awe at Skynir's handiwork leaves just enough room to appreciate Hastur's contribution. Despite his preconceived notions, he's rapidly forming opinions about his companions that don't involve exclusively words like "liability." He spends several moments surveying the formwork, genuinely considering sleeping here tonight.

"This is surely more substantial than any tent- and that seems to be what the locals consider 'indoors'," he offers, not especially eager to meet anyone in the Camp that seems so disliked as these Gnomes.

Still, when the would-be architects dismiss the idea, he is forced to choose between trusting their expertise and not. In the end, he somewhat sullenly follows them to the town's only lodging.

"I've eaten my fill today," he rumbles, sourly parting with one of his few iron bits. "And I know better than to trust any chef that feels the need to advertise 'real meat,'" he adds with an impolite glare.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Hell, Timoshko doesn't even really trust his allies yet. (1d20+6)[13] sense motive