Gemma Talok | AC: 13 (I'm just nimble) | HP: 8/8 | HD: 1/1 | Speed: 25ft | Initiative: +3 Passive Perception: 9, Insight: 9, Investigation: 10 Languages: Common, Halfling, Dwarven Spell Slots: L1: 2/2 Krone's appearance surprises Gemma slightly. "Well, fancy seeing you here, love," the little one purrs. "I imagine that there was plenty of work to be had protecting transports along the way? Or did you walk all the way out here just to see me?" Fuma was an interesting fellow-- so silent. Not a wasted word. Just like Gemma. Gemma definitely didn't waste words, and only said exactly what was necessary. It's just that so very much was necessary, sometimes. The tall man's intense stare and winking certainly captured their interest. There must be much going on underneath that still surface. "Glad to play for you-- but I've not heard the sounds of the Black Lion Tribe.. Uthgardt, right? I'll have to hear them one day." "Gleaming Gemma? That's clever. I like it," they respond to Mareen's suggestion. They don't outright claim the name, but seem to give their assent. Krone's assertion that she would be joining the performance doesn't dissuade Gemma any. "I'm sure our impromptu trio can amuse the crowd for a little while, anyway. It's us or the cold, and I think we're a bit more appealing." Sanguinus' story of the hunt for the rust monsters passes through Gemma's head but doesn't prompt much-- they had always been about their city life, and were woefully unprepared for the wilder world of monsters, combat, and new kinds of danger. Nine Hells, the only time they had even really heard of a rust monster had been some abstract concept of one ruining a shipment of gold bars that were to be melted down in the shop. They did their best not to dwell on the comments. What mattered now was now. Hot stew. Warm walls. New friends. OOC

Human Cleric of Tyr AC: 18 (Chainmail, Shield) | HP: 10/10 () | HD: 1/1 | Speed: 20/30 ft. | Initiative: +0 Senses: Passive Perception 15, Insight 15, Investigation 12. StrSave: 0 Athletics: 0 Carrying Capacity: 150 lb. Lift/Push/Drag: 300 lb.: 10 (+0) | DexInitiative: +0 Save: +0 Acrobatics: +0 Slight-of-Hand: +0 Stealth: +0: 10 (+0) | ConSave: +2: 14 (+2) | IntSave: +0 Arcana: 0 History: +2 Investigation: +2 Nature: 0 Religion: +2: 10 (+0) | WisSave: +5 Animal Handling: +5 Insight: +5 Medicine: +3 Perception: +5 Survival: +3: 16 (+3) | ChaSave: +4 Deception: +2 Intimidation: +4 Performance: +2 Persuasion: +4: 14 (+2) Languages: Common, Tharian, Chondathan Spell Slots: L1 2/2 | L2 0/0 Audrey's entrance alongside two halflings went unnoticed by Sanguinus, despite the woman's interest in their party. The group was too mundane, for want of a better word, comfortable enough to not warrant a second glance. Krone on the other hand, drew eyes by her exotic nature. Uncanny in appearance - for all she seemed human there was something more, something off about her that hd Sanguinus' gut churning as his eyes roved to find it. As she joined them, he suddenly realised his attention could be misinterpreted and turned into his cup, coughing to hide his embarrassment. "Very well, pleased to make your acquaintance," he replied to the silver woman. "Though I'm not sure who 'we' are to be joining yet. Certainly I am not a performer as it seems Mareen, Gemma and yourself are. Fuma could perhaps pass as a strongman." Once the performers had finished their introductions, he returned to Mareen's question. "Not much of a story I'm afraid," he replied bluntly, "and my part in it's even smaller. Woman named Ymmeline - hunter round these parts I believe - asked my help regarding some rust monsters. Mustn't have heard what happens when I try to help though, because we lost their trail," he chuckled darkly. "She asked me to head into town to find out if anyone had seen or heard more, but I suppose she may have simply been trying to shed the extra weight. I'm a city boy, not a survivalist at heart. Though I didn't catch any trace of deceit in her so probably not. We were each straightforward as the other, which was a pleasant change." OOC Action: - Bonus Action: - Movement: - Reaction: - Object Interaction: - Actions & Resources Actions: Mace . Melee Weapon Attack: +2 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 1d6 bludgeoning damage. Light Crossbow . Ranged Weapon Attack: +2 to hit, ranged 80/320 ft., one target. Hit: 1d8 piercing damage. Loading, Two-Handed Sacred Flame . Cantrip (V,S): Creature you can see, range 60 ft., one target, no cover. DEX Save: 1d8 radiant damage. Word of Radiance . Cantrip (V,M): Each creature of your choice that you can see, range 5 ft. CON Save: 1d6 radiant damage. Bonus Actions: - Reactions: - Class/Other Features: Voice of Authority . You can invoke the power of law to embolden an ally to attack. If you cast a spell with a spell slot of 1st level or higher and target an ally with the spell, that ally can use their reaction immediately after the spell to make one weapon attack against a creature of your choice that you can see. If the spell targets more than one ally, you choose the ally who can make the attack. Inspiring Leader . You can spend 10 minutes inspiring your companions, shoring up their resolve to fight. When you do so, choose up to six friendly creatures (which can include yourself) within 30 feet of you who can see or hear you and who can understand you. Each creature can gain temporary hit points equal to your level + your Charisma modifier. A creature can't gain temporary hit points from this feat again until it has finished a short or long rest.

I was going to try to get another post in today, but the day has been pretty rough-- will attempt to reclaim some time tomorrow morning and get another post in. Loving everyone's characters so far. :)

Loving the interactions thus far, some strong characters throughout. Holding to my posting on Friday because I'm loving it so much!

FUMA | CN Uthgardt Black Lion Human, Barbarian [1] HP 16 | AC 18 | Init +2 | Perception 13 | Investigation 09 Fuma listened to the conversations swirling around him and nodded to Mareen as she asked about the type of music he wanted to listen to. "You know Black Lion music?" He was of course referring to his tribe's music. He would be impressed if she actually did know his music. Not many outsiders can pick up the nuances. OoC Notes Game Notes The Emerald Enclave has a simple commandment: the "civilized" Red Plumes are creating problems and there are worse things developing in the southern Moonsea. Take a strong arm, and a stronger sense of self, and put civilization back in its place before the balance of power is lost, like in Mulmaster. The Uthgardt takes orders from no one, but there is a matter of pride, of those who deface the graves of the dead because of who rests in it, who upsets the balance of things because of a misplaced sense of supremacy. As with the tribe, those who do not know their place are quickly reminded. Fuma will remind them.

Krone Skalmǫld | ᛋᚴᛅᛚᛘᛅᛚᛏ ᛋᚴᛅᛚᛘᛅᛚᛏ - Sorcerer I "" AC (17) Initiative (+4) Speed (30 ft.) HP (11/11) PP (13) Special (0/0) Status: Normal Saves & Abilities Krone Saving throws: Str (-1) Dex (+6) Con (+2) Int (+2) Wis (0) Cha (+3). Unarmed attack: 1d20+1, (1). Features: Natural Armor ∴ Spellcaster ∴ Spell attack (+5) ∴ Spell DC (13). Special: None. Mule & Cart Saving throws: AC (10) HP (11) Str (2) Dex (0) Con (1) Int (-4) Wis (0) Cha (-3). Attack (hooves): 1d20+2, (1d4+2). Abilities: Speed (40 ft. | 4.5 mph | 7.2 kph) Capacity (300 lbs. + 1900 lbs.) The young woman turned to Mareen, and upon learning she was an artist, she returned her greeting with a small curtsey. "" she spelled her name loudly, clearly, and with contempt. She nearly got distracted by the mention of the rust monsters, briefly entertaining the idea that perhaps they were the reason behind the scantily clad man's appearance. Then again, her own attire wasn't much different from that of the barbarian's. "I am but an aficionado," she humbly replied at Mareen’s prompt. "This Yarting is a memento of my homeland." She produced the lyre and strummed a simple note ⁽¹⁾. However, it was out of tune, as it was customary to loosen the strings to protect the instrument from bowing, especially when it was humid. "You may give it a try, if you wish. The caress of hands blessed by the gift of music is well received by my lyre. I would be honored to have you leave your mark on it, by the essence of your arts," she nodded with expectation. She briefly put away her lyre and continued the conversation. "You think I could share the floor with you?" Krone was a bit perplexed, but her confidence in acrobatic feats was strong. She looked around to prevent tripping and then performed a "giro" or acrobatic spin ⁽²⁾, her cloak swiftly billowing without impeding her movement, and then added a dancing "" or call ⁽³⁾. "Olé! …What say you?" One might wonder whether it was the cold or a blush coloring her cheeks. (1) Rolled 6 in guitar performance, (2) Rolled 15 in acrobatics, (3) Rolled 16 in dancing performance. Replying to

Appearance Age 23 | Height 5' 10" (1.78m) | Weight 132 lbs. (60 kg) | Hair Chestnut | Eyes Brown | Complexion Warm, light tan Description Mareen possesses a round and gentle face, complemented by warm eyes. Her appearance is so distinctly feminine and curved that it's difficult to imagine she was once the leading prima ballerina of Waterdeep just five years prior. She wears her hair down, favoring simple, long dresses in gold, light blue, and deep green; she seldom wears the same outfit twice. The cut of her clothes reveals the strength of her thighs, while deep necklines accentuate her femininity and draw attention away from her robust upper arms. Statblock Sheet | Alignment Chaotic good | Type medium humanoid (human) | Classes Bard (Swords) 3 | Background Entertainer (Acrobat, Dancer) Init +3 | AC 14 (Leather) | Passive Insight 12; Investigation 12; Perception 11 | Saves Str +1, Dex +5, Con +2, Int 0, Wis 0, Cha +5 Languages Common, Elvish HD d8 ☐☐☐| HP 21/21 | Bardic Inspiration ☐☐☐ | Spell Slots I: ☐☐☐☐ II: ☐☐ Underscored: Replenish on long rest | Italic : Replenish on short or long rest. | Numbers count available resources, not used resources. | "☐" indicates an available resource, "☒" used resource. Status - | Effects - | Concentrating on - | Hands Main -, Off - Durations in rds. denote the remaining rounds after the current one. Mareen giggled when the full extent of Gemma's bubbly personality came to bear. Mareen would have preferred not being publicly identified, but she wasn't going to deny. "Yes, I used to be the prima ballerina in Waterdeep. Whether I am still that fabulous I leave up to you; I am not a girl anymore. I am more versatile and of an acrobat than a ballerina by now and my performance is much more fitting for a cosy tavern than a pretentious large hall." There was a time when she had wanted to be the embodiment of purity and grace and it had been hard for her to accept when she had grown out of it. By now, she preferred a crowd that was laughing and having fun watching with a sexy young woman perform astounding tricks, rather than a notoriously complicated routine. "Before everything else, I am a travelling bard. And since you're going to perform with me, for tonight, so are you. So, what's your stage name? The Gleaming Gemma, maybe?" Fuma, who was scaring Mareen a little bit with his steady staring, interrupted only be intent blinking, admitted that he would like to hear Gemma's music. That made him climb several steps on Mareen sympathy ladder. And she was beginning to entertain the possibility of liking him. His most verbose monologue was expressing his favour for music; it might be a clever idea to put her Gemma's songs in the center and flip the roles occasionally. "It is nice to meet you, Fuma. Let us know what you like, and we'll play it for you." She smirked upon Sanguinus remark regarding a rust monster. "A rust monster? I sense a story there. Care to tell me about it? I will find out one way or another, so you might as well present your point of view first. You might want to take somebody along who relies less on steel than you do... and a bard, of course, for otherwise it will be like it never happened." Mareen noticed a pretty girl, local by her body language, taking a seat apart from the others. Only a moment later, a breathtaking beauty, Krone, walked through the room, down to earth in her attitude, but eerily graceful in her motions. I looked like she was a local, too. "Well met, it is a pleasure indeed. Your entry left me impressed; you have an outstanding natural grace. But..." Alright, this might insult the white-haired mystical maiden, but it was better to ask now than carry the question around. "Did you say your name was 'crone'?" Once that was cleared, Mareen nodded to the bag with the lute. "Given Glenna's permission, I am going to give acrobatics, and sword dancing show later. Gemma offered to help with the music. Would you like to share the dancing lights, too? I hope this isn't me poaching in your terrain?"

Krone Skalmǫld | ᛋᚴᛅᛚᛘᛅᛚᛏ ᛋᚴᛅᛚᛘᛅᛚᛏ - Sorcerer I "" AC (17) Initiative (+4) Speed (30 ft.) HP (11/11) PP (13) Special (0/0) Status: Normal Saves & Abilities Krone Saving throws: Str (-1) Dex (+6) Con (+2) Int (+2) Wis (0) Cha (+3). Unarmed attack: 1d20+1, (1). Features: Natural Armor ∴ Spellcaster ∴ Spell attack (+5) ∴ Spell DC (13). Special: None. Mule & Cart Saving throws: AC (10) HP (11) Str (2) Dex (0) Con (1) Int (-4) Wis (0) Cha (-3). Attack (hooves): 1d20+2, (1d4+2). Abilities: Speed (40 ft. | 4.5 mph | 7.2 kph) Capacity (300 lbs. + 1900 lbs.) “I am here...” she whispered. Through the frosted windows of the "Plodding Plow," the sight of Krone could be caught as she approached on her mule-drawn cart; the scene unfolded like a silent tableau against the snowy backdrop. The mule bore the weight of her belongings without complaint, a silent witness to her hard work. The cart bore the marks of travel, telling of her journey thus far, laden with her belongings, and its contents carefully secured beneath a tarp to protect them from the elements. With a deft touch, she tethered her mule to a post near the entrance, securing the reins before dismounting. Krone allowed herself a moment of reflection, her thoughts turning to the challenges that lay ahead. Suddenly, a familiar voice from within the tavern caught her attention. "Stone, Silk, and... copper," it was Gemma. The warmth emanating from the pub beckoned to her, offering comfort amidst the anticipation of her journey. With the prospect of companionship and the familiar ambiance of the tavern, Krone allowed herself to unwind, finding reassurance in the knowledge that she would confront whatever trials awaited her with steadfast courage. She dismounted, her boots sinking into the snow with a soft crunch. Her black cloak billowed around her as she strode towards the entrance, her footsteps leaving a trail of faint imprints in the snow. As she stepped into the warmth of the pub, her breath misting in the chill air, the contrast between the cold outside and the cozy interior was palpable; Krone entered with a confident stride. She had spent the last few months away making herself known as a sellsword, and when she pushed open the creaking door of the "Plodding Plow," a rush of warmth greeted her; she was embraced by the warmth of the hearth and the inviting aroma of hearty stew. Glenna Moonsmith, the proprietress, offered her a friendly smile as she approached, her eyes probably taking in the subtle changes in Krone's appearance. Krone nodded gratefully, her gaze lingering on the table set before her. “This meeting is more than just a chance encounter,” she thought, for it was the beginning of a new chapter in her quest for might and magic. The pub's interior buzzed with activity, a mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the murmur of conversations weaving together like a tapestry of stories. More often than not, the patrons' attention was drawn to Krone’s arrivals, their curious eyes glancing at the figure of the young woman, her ashen-silvery hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. Krone’s snow-white complexion seemed to glow under the flickering light of the fireside, her skin rosy from the cold, but despite the chill outside, she showed no signs of discomfort. Her form-fitting black bodysuit clung to her curves, the fabric stretched taut over her growing frame; the subtle hints of her draconic heritage were evident in the dim cracks along her skin, like delicate veins of silver tracing her silhouette, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. Despite the snugness of her attire, Krone moved with a fluid grace. Her iridescent eyes, glimmering like opal, darted around the room taking in every detail with keen interest. “Thank you,” replied Krone to Glenna, without interrupting the conversation with the patron. The rush of emotion upon spotting Gemma at the pub momentarily overwhelmed her. The chances of encountering her again in the current state of Hillsfar seemed slim, making the reunion all the more precious. Krone couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness knowing her message had reached Gemma. She made her way over to Gemma, flashing a wink before saying, "Hey! How about a riddle of steel?" The sight of a friend made Krone's greeting warmer, as she figured Gemma's table companions were either part of some grand scheme in the halfling’s mind or true partners in crime. Collecting herself, she quickly added, "I am Krone, well met! I'll be joining you," gesturing to indicate that Glenna had sent her over. With care, she set down her bag, containing a Lyre, before finding a seat at the table. No OOC comments.

FUMA | CN Uthgardt Black Lion Human, Barbarian [1] HP 16 | AC 18 | Init +2 | Perception 13 | Investigation 09 Fuma shakes his head in the 'negative' to the heavily armored man and says, "No." In truth he has never encountered a rust monster and so he is not sure he would even know what one looks like. He has heard tales from his kinsmen, but he doesn't think anyone of them ever encountered one either. From what he knows those creatures are a bane to metal; best to kill then with rocks or just run away. OoC Notes Game Notes The Emerald Enclave has a simple commandment: the "civilized" Red Plumes are creating problems and there are worse things developing in the southern Moonsea. Take a strong arm, and a stronger sense of self, and put civilization back in its place before the balance of power is lost, like in Mulmaster. The Uthgardt takes orders from no one, but there is a matter of pride, of those who deface the graves of the dead because of who rests in it, who upsets the balance of things because of a misplaced sense of supremacy. As with the tribe, those who do not know their place are quickly reminded. Fuma will remind them.

Audren Erser Neutral Human AC: 13 (16 w/Mage Armor) | HP: 24/24 | Initiative: +8 | Passive Perception: 13 | Passive Insight: 13 Psionic Energy: 4/4 | Psionic Power Recovery: 1/1 (sr) | Psychic Whispers: 1/1 Conditions: Alert | DM Inspiration: 0 A young human woman enters the inn accompanying two older halflings. They take a moment to brush off the snow from their heavy woolen cloaks before hanging them up to dry. Her gaze quickly scans the room. There are several unfamiliar faces, not unusual considering it's The Stop, but she makes a mental note of them nevertheless. The group finds a small table, close to the fire and settles down. The young woman seems to fuss over the halflings before walking over to the bar. "Hello Glenna. Hope you are well this evening," she greets the dwarf with a small smile. "The usual for us. The boar smells delicious, but don't go topping up Hilbret's plate. You know he's not supposed to have so much red meat." "What's with that group by the window?" Mentally, she sized them up. A large man who looks like he could take a few hits, a guard, a curious halfling, and a very outgoing woman. Were they separate, Audren would have thought no more of them, just more travelers. Together though, together a group like that could mean trouble. Audren hoped it wasn't trouble, she just wanted quiet. Mechanics Main Hand: Empty Off Hand: Empty Saving Throws: STR -1 DEX +5 CON +2 INT +3 WIS +1 CHA +1 Action: Your action goes here. Bonus Action: Your bonus action goes here. Move: Your movement goes here. Manipulate: Your one free object interaction goes here.

Human Cleric of Tyr AC: 18 (Chainmail, Shield) | HP: 10/10 () | HD: 1/1 | Speed: 20/30 ft. | Initiative: +0 Senses: Passive Perception 15, Insight 15, Investigation 12. StrSave: 0 Athletics: 0 Carrying Capacity: 150 lb. Lift/Push/Drag: 300 lb.: 10 (+0) | DexInitiative: +0 Save: +0 Acrobatics: +0 Slight-of-Hand: +0 Stealth: +0: 10 (+0) | ConSave: +2: 14 (+2) | IntSave: +0 Arcana: 0 History: +2 Investigation: +2 Nature: 0 Religion: +2: 10 (+0) | WisSave: +5 Animal Handling: +5 Insight: +5 Medicine: +3 Perception: +5 Survival: +3: 16 (+3) | ChaSave: +4 Deception: +2 Intimidation: +4 Performance: +2 Persuasion: +4: 14 (+2) Languages: Common, Tharian, Chondathan Spell Slots: L1 2/2 | L2 0/0 "I'm sure any show would be worth my while," Sanguinus replied frankly, "though I'm not sure I can speak to my tastes. Those cultural things always went over my head, and were too expensive besides." He took advantage of the rumour to begin eating, carefully and steadily working through the bowl of stew, nodding at the appropriate points, happy to let the bard talk. Like most bards she seemed to enjoy the sound of her own voice. One eye was kept on a group of patrons in the corner who seemed to be getting just a little too rowdy, and occasionally he glanced towards a young lad dressed in hand-me-downs loitering by the door. He wiped his mouth on a spare cloth when she wrapped up, adding "Well it all seems a bit much for me. Something for heroes and adventurers. Hopefully Glenna's problems are more on the simple side of things." He stamped his feet against the straw, feeling beginning to return to his toes with a hot prickle, and looked up at the two latest customers joining their table. A veritable mountain of a man who looked like he belonged in the very stories Mareen was describing. A voluble halfling buried beneath an equivalent mountain of rags. "Well met Fuma, Gemma," he greeted them both politely. The former was - he decided - a reassuring presence in whatever Tyr had planned for him. The kind of study man you could build a line around, and rely on to keep it. Presuming, of course, he was on their side. Otherwise he was the kind of man who made you remember there was some paperwork needed filing back at the station. Not for him any more. He sighed, and took another long drink of ale. He's thankfully saved from having to respond to the halfling's pointed comment by their short attention span. He was perfectly aware that watchmen didn't always have the best reputations with some folk - especially not in the last few months. It didn't help his feeling just a little more run down each time he was judged on that by common folk, rather than the good they did. Used to do. "Sorry if I don't have much conversation in me tonight, it's been a tough winter," he apologised. "Don't suppose you saw any rust monsters on your journey Fuma?" he inquired halfheartedly, not expecting an easy solution. Of the three he judged the barbarian most likely to have encountered them in the wilderness. OOC Action: - Bonus Action: - Movement: - Reaction: - Object Interaction: - Actions & Resources Actions: Mace . Melee Weapon Attack: +2 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 1d6 bludgeoning damage. Light Crossbow . Ranged Weapon Attack: +2 to hit, ranged 80/320 ft., one target. Hit: 1d8 piercing damage. Loading, Two-Handed Sacred Flame . Cantrip (V,S): Creature you can see, range 60 ft., one target, no cover. DEX Save: 1d8 radiant damage. Word of Radiance . Cantrip (V,M): Each creature of your choice that you can see, range 5 ft. CON Save: 1d6 radiant damage. Bonus Actions: - Reactions: - Class/Other Features: Voice of Authority . You can invoke the power of law to embolden an ally to attack. If you cast a spell with a spell slot of 1st level or higher and target an ally with the spell, that ally can use their reaction immediately after the spell to make one weapon attack against a creature of your choice that you can see. If the spell targets more than one ally, you choose the ally who can make the attack. Inspiring Leader . You can spend 10 minutes inspiring your companions, shoring up their resolve to fight. When you do so, choose up to six friendly creatures (which can include yourself) within 30 feet of you who can see or hear you and who can understand you. Each creature can gain temporary hit points equal to your level + your Charisma modifier. A creature can't gain temporary hit points from this feat again until it has finished a short or long rest.

FUMA | CN Uthgardt Black Lion Human, Barbarian [1] HP 16 | AC 18 | Init +2 | Perception 13 | Investigation 09 Fuma looks to the little companion as she offers to play music and he says to her, "Fuma would like to hear your music," and offers the little halfling a 'wink' instead of the customary social smile; it is his way. It has been a long time since he has heard any music. He misses that the most since leaving home (Beorunna's Well). His people would make such a racket with their load speaking, hammering on anvils, and general jovial attitude. Most 'civilized' people think his people dumb barbarians, but in truth they are a cunning and resourceful lot. They make and find numerous uses for things, and one was beautiful music. His culture have been exposed to the little people (dwarves and halflings) as well and he enjoys their amusing merriment as well. OoC Notes Game Notes The Emerald Enclave has a simple commandment: the "civilized" Red Plumes are creating problems and there are worse things developing in the southern Moonsea. Take a strong arm, and a stronger sense of self, and put civilization back in its place before the balance of power is lost, like in Mulmaster. The Uthgardt takes orders from no one, but there is a matter of pride, of those who deface the graves of the dead because of who rests in it, who upsets the balance of things because of a misplaced sense of supremacy. As with the tribe, those who do not know their place are quickly reminded. Fuma will remind them.

Alright, I've posted! I want to say up front that I'm kind of playing around a bit with this character in a lot of ways. I don't want it to make the game less enjoyable for anyone. If the genderfluid aspect of the character starts to get confusing, I'm happy to default to they/them pronouns. And, as said in the main post, if the music selection breaks the tone too hard for anyone in a way that's not fun, I'm also happy to cool it there. You're stuck with the (attempted) unnerving body horror in their spellcasting, though. Non-negotiable.

Gemma Talok | AC: 13 (I'm just nimble) | HP: 8/8 | HD: 1/1 | Speed: 25ft | Initiative: +3 Passive Perception: 9, Insight: 9, Investigation: 10 Languages: Common, Halfling, Dwarven Spell Slots: L1: 2/2 Gemma works her way into the tavern out of the cold, her small frame covered in an absurdly thick bit of rags to keep safe from the bitter winter what little heat she can generate. She firmly closes the door behind her to ward off the cold, and visibly shivers as she slips out of the warming outfit. With a deep breath and a relieved sight, she smiles and looks about the tavern, quickly finding the group that she is meant to join. When Glenna Moonsmith offers Gemma the stew and meat, Gemma smiles up at the woman graciously. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a saint, sweet Glenna? Because if they haven't, then they should. And if they have, then they should say it twice." Gemma wastes no time in tasting the stuff, trying hard to savor the scent and each bite. Times have been hard since her expulsion from Hillsfar, and the kindness of Glenna has earned the dwarf a fierce ally in the halfling. Eventually, Gemma becomes vaguely aware of the conversation that the others are having, and decides to participate. Looking from face to face, she comments, without further context. "Mmmm. Stone, Silk, and... hmph-- copper," as she looks over Fuma, Mareen, and Sanguinus, respectively. "I'm Gemma. You can call me that, or Unko. Or really whatever strikes you as right, if it's in good spirit," she says. There is not a trace of irony in her statement, even with the emphasis she had put on "copper." And it suddenly dawns on her that she does recognize one of the party. "Why, you're that fabulous ballerina-- and more, if the stories are right. Wait, are you going to grace us with a performance? Or are we just lucky to be in the same tavern that you wandered into for a good meal?" If only Gemma had paid a modicum of attention, she might know the answers to her questions already. Alas, she has not. Fortunately, she's flighty and excited enough to have an arguably relevant suggestion anyway. "Oh, do you need a musical accompaniment? If you're up for the fun, I could liven up the performance..." OOC If Sass is willing to allow it, my intention is to use to produce , with the accompanied performance check. Gemma would give a justification that it was inspired by a bizarre music box she came across from a dwarven friend some time ago. However, if we think that it's too tonally inappropriate, I understand, and won't push the issue. :) Performance Minor Illusion

My hope is by the end of this adventure his party will actually see him smile.

I love Fuma's eloquent entry! However, may that Mareen misinterprets his charming overtures of friendship and hides behind Sanguinus.

As if I wouldn't read every word Grego writes like I'm licking dew off a desert flower.

FUMA | CN Uthgardt Black Lion Human, Barbarian [1] HP 16 | AC 18 | Init +2 | Perception 13 | Investigation 09 Fuma, a towering figure covered wearing thick furs, has a wild look about him; the term 'barbarian' is apt in describing him. His nature and demeanor mimics the cold beauty of a frigid day when only the comfort of a warm hearth is sought to appease the weary soul. He greets Glenna Moonsmith with a nod and wink as she directs him to the table with drinks waiting for him. Seeing some other patrons that he has noticed before but never meet he nods and winks at them as well; the wink seems to be his version of a 'smile'. "Fuma" he tells them as he sits and takes a drink. Not one to start small talk he listens to their conversations as he would stare at a warm fire on a cold lazy day. It is nice to hear others' words when he spends so much time alone in the wild. It matters not to him the topics of their conversation just that others around him are talking. He would smile to show his companions his appreciation for their company, but instead he just offers a single 'wink'. OoC Notes Game Notes The Emerald Enclave has a simple commandment: the "civilized" Red Plumes are creating problems and there are worse things developing in the southern Moonsea. Take a strong arm, and a stronger sense of self, and put civilization back in its place before the balance of power is lost, like in Mulmaster. The Uthgardt takes orders from no one, but there is a matter of pride, of those who deface the graves of the dead because of who rests in it, who upsets the balance of things because of a misplaced sense of supremacy. As with the tribe, those who do not know their place are quickly reminded. Fuma will remind them.

Appearance Age 23 | Height 5' 10" (1.78m) | Weight 132 lbs. (60 kg) | Hair Chestnut | Eyes Brown | Complexion Warm, light tan Description Mareen possesses a round and gentle face, complemented by warm eyes. Her appearance is so distinctly feminine and curved that it's difficult to imagine she was once the leading prima ballerina of Waterdeep just five years prior. She wears her hair down, favoring simple, long dresses in gold, light blue, and deep green; she seldom wears the same outfit twice. The cut of her clothes reveals the strength of her thighs, while deep necklines accentuate her femininity and draw attention away from her robust upper arms. Statblock Sheet | Alignment Chaotic good | Type medium humanoid (human) | Classes Bard (Swords) 3 | Background Entertainer (Acrobat, Dancer) Init +3 | AC 14 (Leather) | Passive Insight 12; Investigation 12; Perception 11 | Saves Str +1, Dex +5, Con +2, Int 0, Wis 0, Cha +5 Languages Common, Elvish HD d8 ☐☐☐| HP 21/21 | Bardic Inspiration ☐☐☐ | Spell Slots I: ☐☐☐☐ II: ☐☐ Underscored: Replenish on long rest | Italic : Replenish on short or long rest. | Numbers count available resources, not used resources. | "☐" indicates an available resource, "☒" used resource. Status - | Effects - | Concentrating on - | Hands Main -, Off - Durations in rds. denote the remaining rounds after the current one. Mareen leaned closer to Sanuinius and seemed more relaxed in his presence. "I have a feeling that if you watch me perform, I am considerably safer from overeager admirers," she admitted honestly and added mysteriously: "Now I only have to make good show to worth your while." She wasn't suffering from stage fright, she merely liked to stoke the suspense without boasting all too much. "And I hope I know a lot of things that you don't - I wouldn't be a proper bard if I didn't. And naturally, all my story's are true..." She lend her voice an intensity and hushed that made it seem like she lowered her voice, even though she raisesd it: Mareen Shares a Rumour In the bustling Moonsea region, whispered tales among the bards tell of a mysterious group of adventurers who recently uncovered a hidden temple buried deep within the Cormanthor Forest. Legends say that within this temple lies an artifact of immense power, capable of reshaping the fate of the land itself. Some claim these adventurers have ties to a secretive organization known as the Harpers, while others believe they are mercenaries hired by wealthy nobles with ulterior motives. Rumors swirl about dark forces seeking to thwart their quest, from shadowy cults to ancient dragons awakening from their slumber. As the bards weave their songs and stories, the people of Moonsea hold their breath, wondering what fate awaits those brave souls who dare to disturb the ancient slumber of the forest. Only time will tell if these tales are mere whispers in the wind or harbingers of a greater storm looming on the horizon. Until then, the bards of Moonsea continue to share their tales, spinning a web of intrigue and mystery that captivates all who listen. She paused and leaned back, letting the gravity of the words. "Make of that what you will," she added with an ambiguous smirk. "Is that all I know?" A wide cheeky grin dominated her face. "Who knows. But as to our gathering right now... it could be the working of Tymora, for I enjoy it so far. Depends on who exactly 'we' is in your opinion. However, now it's Glenna's turn!" OOC Credit for the rumour goes to ChatGPT. Prompt Could you make a in-world rumour of current events that is shared amongst the bards in the Moonsea region in the Forgotten Realms campaign settings, based on events depicted in recently published adventures?

Human Cleric of Tyr AC: 18 (Chainmail, Shield) | HP: 10/10 () | HD: 1/1 | Speed: 20/30 ft. | Initiative: +0 Senses: Passive Perception 15, Insight 15, Investigation 12. StrSave: 0 Athletics: 0 Carrying Capacity: 150 lb. Lift/Push/Drag: 300 lb.: 10 (+0) | DexInitiative: +0 Save: +0 Acrobatics: +0 Slight-of-Hand: +0 Stealth: +0: 10 (+0) | ConSave: +2: 14 (+2) | IntSave: +0 Arcana: 0 History: +2 Investigation: +2 Nature: 0 Religion: +2: 10 (+0) | WisSave: +5 Animal Handling: +5 Insight: +5 Medicine: +3 Perception: +5 Survival: +3: 16 (+3) | ChaSave: +4 Deception: +2 Intimidation: +4 Performance: +2 Persuasion: +4: 14 (+2) Languages: Common, Tharian, Chondathan Spell Slots: L1 2/2 | L2 0/0 Sanguinus trudged towards the tavern, chainmail weighing heavy as duty on his shoulders. His breath misted in the crisp air, condensing on the roughwrought plain steel rings of his watch-issued hauberk and coif. A past life now, he reminded himself again. Though the insignia had been stripped, his origin was clear in the swing of his step, the square of his shoulders, the trim of his beard. Even this far from the city of his home he carried that ineffable sense of 'copper'. He had learned, though, in the past few months to follow the dogs and place his trust in Tyr. He had no choice but to do so. Thus he trudged after the mastiff that walked frosted streets, having left a disappointed Ymmeline still searching the wilds. Though he tried his best it never seemed good enough. Still, his best was all he could do. One step at a time. The dark oaken door swung open, revealing the warm bustle of life sheltered from winters harsh grasp, and Sanguinus found himself grateful not just for the food and drink, but the companionship it promised. He looked for a table, and was surprised when the dwarven lady approached him and mentioned a table already set aside. He hadn't thought Ymmeline had sent word ahead. Grateful for the opportunity he sits heavily and sighing, shedding his coif in relief and loosening hardworn black leather boots on the straw below. Of the mastiff, there is no sign. His face is more young than old, but lined with stress and lack of sleep and dark bags gather under his warm brown eyes. His beard remains well trimmed, showing this is a man who still cares for his appearance, though clearly not a vain one by the rest of his modest outfit. "I always have time to listen to those in need," he replied to the proprietor, pouring himself a long goblet of weak ale to soothe his cracked lips, "though these days there seem more rather than fewer." He pulled over the warming stew, settling his frostbitten fingertips around the edge of the wooden bowl to warm. Times had been tight, and what little money he had scraped together had been sent back to Melissa, his wife, and their two boys, Quintus and Caecilius. The warm meal was a pleasant treat. He turned his head to the nobly dressed lady to his side, "Well met, Mareen. My name is Sanguinus. I'm afraid accompaniment is beyond my talents, but I would be happy to watch. I don't suppose you know any more than I why we have been brought together?" Over the past months he had grown used to Tyr's cryptic guidance. His god, it seemed, was not a verbose one. OOC Action: - Bonus Action: - Movement: - Reaction: - Object Interaction: - Actions & Resources Actions: Mace . Melee Weapon Attack: +2 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 1d6 bludgeoning damage. Light Crossbow . Ranged Weapon Attack: +2 to hit, ranged 80/320 ft., one target. Hit: 1d8 piercing damage. Loading, Two-Handed Sacred Flame . Cantrip (V,S): Creature you can see, range 60 ft., one target, no cover. DEX Save: 1d8 radiant damage. Word of Radiance . Cantrip (V,M): Each creature of your choice that you can see, range 5 ft. CON Save: 1d6 radiant damage. Bonus Actions: - Reactions: - Class/Other Features: Voice of Authority . You can invoke the power of law to embolden an ally to attack. If you cast a spell with a spell slot of 1st level or higher and target an ally with the spell, that ally can use their reaction immediately after the spell to make one weapon attack against a creature of your choice that you can see. If the spell targets more than one ally, you choose the ally who can make the attack. Inspiring Leader . You can spend 10 minutes inspiring your companions, shoring up their resolve to fight. When you do so, choose up to six friendly creatures (which can include yourself) within 30 feet of you who can see or hear you and who can understand you. Each creature can gain temporary hit points equal to your level + your Charisma modifier. A creature can't gain temporary hit points from this feat again until it has finished a short or long rest.

For the individual player, it's actually not as overwhelmingly as it may look at first, it's just that Gregorotto went through hell of a lot of work: There are two separate introductory paragraphs, depending on whether you're from afar or a local, and every player got their own personal paragraph. So, in other words, there are six paragraphs, which you can ignore for now: The five individual introductions for the other players and the overall introduction for the other group of players.

Appearance Age 23 | Height 5' 10" (1.78m) | Weight 132 lbs. (60 kg) | Hair Chestnut | Eyes Brown | Complexion Warm, light tan Description Mareen possesses a round and gentle face, complemented by warm eyes. Her appearance is so distinctly feminine and curved that it's difficult to imagine she was once the leading prima ballerina of Waterdeep just five years prior. She wears her hair down, favoring simple, long dresses in gold, light blue, and deep green; she seldom wears the same outfit twice. The cut of her clothes reveals the strength of her thighs, while deep necklines accentuate her femininity and draw attention away from her robust upper arms. Statblock Sheet | Alignment Chaotic good | Type medium humanoid (human) | Classes Bard (Swords) 3 | Background Entertainer (Acrobat, Dancer) Init +3 | AC 14 (Leather) | Passive Insight 12; Investigation 12; Perception 11 | Saves Str +1, Dex +5, Con +2, Int 0, Wis 0, Cha +5 Languages Common, Elvish HD d8 ☐☐☐| HP 21/21 | Bardic Inspiration ☐☐☐ | Spell Slots I: ☐☐☐☐ II: ☐☐ Underscored: Replenish on long rest | Italic : Replenish on short or long rest. | Numbers count available resources, not used resources. | "☐" indicates an available resource, "☒" used resource. Status - | Effects - | Concentrating on - | Hands Main -, Off - Durations in rds. denote the remaining rounds after the current one. Mareen had swapped her travelling coat for a dress as she joined the company in the public room. Her dress seemed a little out of place, plain but made from expensive materials, it didn't look it was designed to warn in public at all, more like something a noble woman might wear in private for its comfort, and yet, at the same time, it was wasteful, for the dress was an obvious dirt magnet and wouldn't last long. She wasn't all too thrilled with being pushed around by a handler, but Gelnna warm greeting made her immediately feel at home. "Hello Glenna!" she returned heartily to the dwarf bartender's greeting. "I'm Mareen and totally love your place." She squirmed a little on her bar stool until she had nested into the perfect position. "No alcohol for me yet, I am going to bestow you with the celestial grace of my acrobatic dance and exotic display of swordsmaidenship later. And, for customers who aren't into that, I suppose my bum will help. Mostly in in handstand, of course, my feet are killing me." She wriggled her toes, which were don in light strappy sandals. "But make sure you have bottle of good clear mead set aside for later. Not too sweet." Every mead was sweet, of course, but Mareen preferred relatively dry ones. She licked her lips, glancing at the pitchers of amber liquid. Looking down the row of other guests, she addressed them: "Well met, ladies and gentlemen from near and far. Would any of you like to accompany my performance with some music later?" She smirked, turned back to bartender: "Why isn't there a local bard around, anyway... did you lose one recently, Glenna?" Mareen's tone was jesting, but her question quite serious. Her left-hand trailed hem of her dress' neckline, not only showing off her décolleté - even though it wasn't as impressive as Glenna's - and the fact that she was wearing an acrobat's costume under the dress, but also directing Glenna's attention at the subtle silver pin with which Mareen was playing. A harper pin. "Anyway, cool water and a good load of rumours, a baked potato and a few roasted ribs would be enough to win over my heartfelt gratitude."

Appearance Age 23 | Height 5' 10" (1.78m) | Weight 132 lbs. (60 kg) | Hair Chestnut | Eyes Brown | Complexion Warm, light tan Description Mareen possesses a round and gentle face, complemented by warm eyes. Her appearance is so distinctly feminine and curved that it's difficult to imagine she was once the leading prima ballerina of Waterdeep just five years prior. She wears her hair down, favoring simple, long dresses in gold, light blue, and deep green; she seldom wears the same outfit twice. The cut of her clothes reveals the strength of her thighs, while deep necklines accentuate her femininity and draw attention away from her robust upper arms. Statblock Sheet | Alignment Chaotic good | Type medium humanoid (human) | Classes Bard (Swords) 3 | Background Entertainer Init +3 | AC 14 (Leather) | Passive Insight 12; Investigation 12; Perception 11 | Saves Str +1, Dex +5, Con +2, Int 0, Wis 0, Cha +5 Languages Common, Elvish HD d8 ☐☐☐| HP 21/21 | Bardic Inspiration ☐☐☐ | Arcane Recovers ☐ | Spell Slots I: ☐☐☐☐ II: ☐☐ Underscored: Replenish on long rest | Italic : Replenish on short or long rest. | Numbers count available resources, not used resources. | "☐" indicates an available resource, "☒" used resource. Status - | Effects - | Concentrating on - | Hands Main -, Off - Durations in rds. denote the remaining rounds after the current one. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ‘ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua’. “At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.” Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tempor invidunt ut labore et dolore magna aliquyam erat, sed diam voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebum. Stet clita kasd gubergren, no sea takimata sanctus est Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Duis autem vel eum iriure dolor in hendrerit in vulputate velit esse molestie consequat, vel illum dolore eu feugiat nulla facilisis at vero eros et accumsan et iusto odio dignissim qui blandit praesent luptatum zzril delenit augue duis dolore te feugait nulla facilisi. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, OOC m voluptua. At vero eos et accusam et justo duo dolores et ea rebu

Whew, what an intro. 👏 It'll be a busy next few days at work, but I'll try to sneak a post in before Friday.

Past is Prologue: Mareen, Krone, and Fuma Locatled halfway between the ruins of a place called Yûlash and the boisterous trade town of Hillsfar, the Stop is a a wall-less village and hub for the local farmers in the harsh wintery landscape that is the southern Moonsea. Yet despite its lack of walls, the Stop has become a bastion of civility for those who seek it: the town of Phlan, with its dark fey and dragon attacks, and Mulmaster burning and drowning under the weight of the Cult of Elemental Evil, if the rumors are to be believed, the town is full of refugees and people desperate for a semblance of safety. And, in spite of its lesser forces and resources, the dark forces of Hillsfar itself, hoping to impose human supremacy, have recently been all but rejected and run out of town: the Stop is for all, except for the Red Plumes, the newly returned jackbooted thugs and strongarms of Hillsfar, itself. With the Moonsea region so busy, it's no wonder you were called here. Countless factions already populate the area, local or otherwise, but some cannot help but meddle. For Mareen Ulicci, this feels very much a betrayal by her Harper handlers. The Red Dancer, as her street name was, had only recently been outed, and in so doing forced into public danger again: at least two assassination attempts by forces unknown but almost undoubtedly connected to her father's fallen empire led her Harper handlers to get her out of Waterdeep post-haste. They could have picked anywhere: Baldur's Gate; a tropical paradise like Halruaa or Chult; even far Zakhara. But instead, they shove her where "need was greatest." They shoved her into the frozen Moonsea for the Dawnfather's sake! Here no less than two weeks, her new handler, Elanil Elassidil of Elventree has sent her to the Stop to investigate not only the stability after rejecting the Red Plumes but also a string of disappearances at the behest of one Glenna Moonsmith, dwarven proprietor of the Stop's inn and tavern, the Plodding Prow. How apropos. Krone Skalmǫld is in a similar boat, but much closer to her port of call. The Traveler has come at last to the surface and has spent the last few months making herself known as a sellsword, and with her appearance, quietly missed the purge brought on by the First Law of Humanity. Business has been slow: the Red Plumes have tried to narrow out as many sellswords as they can, barring their tenuous alliance with the temple of Tempus in the town. Mostly Krone has found herself checking out farmsteads where nothing was wrong or getting rid of rat infestations: but then a rumor found her, that her services might be needed in the Stop; this information came from her contacts among the holy Order of the Gauntlet, relocated to Elventree: go to the Stop, they said, and find out the troubles there. There's work to be done there after: and the Raven Queen does not forget those who help her faithful. For Fuma, it is quite simple. One town looks like another town, and his connection to the Emerald Enclave has a simple commandment: the "civilized" Red Plumes are creating problems and there are worse things developing in the southern Moonsea. Take a strong arm, and a stronger sense of self, and put civilization back in its place before the balance of power is lost, like in Mulmaster. The Uthgardt takes orders from no one, but there is a matter of pride, of those who deface the graves of the dead because of who rests in it, who upsets the balance of things because of a misplaced sense of supremacy. As with the tribe, those who do not know their place are quickly reminded. Fuma will remind them. Past is Prologue: Sanguinus, Gemma/Unko, Audren From the end of the Year of the Warrior Princess and the defeat of Tiamat, to the beginning of the Year of the Warrior Princess, the Red Plume, under First Lord Torin Nomerthal, reimplemented the First Law of Humanity and exiled all "demihumans" from the walls of Hillsfar. The days of Maalthiir have returned, and the blood that stains the Arena's sand belongs to drow who speak of horrors beyond understanding, refugees from below who plead to heed their warning or worse will come to Hillsfar. It also belongs to the elves, halflings, gnomes, and dwarves who did not flee, and to political dissidents besides. For Audren Erser these are but distant rumors of a place she left behind. Before the Cult of the Dragon made Phlan insufferable only last year, Audren left her home in Hillsfar and found herself beset with demons of her own making, and perhaps more. In the wilds of the Moonsea it was the Tentrotters who took her in, Hilbret and Lumilla, an elderly halfling couple who farmed not far from the Stop and who had an extended family network across the Hillsfar hinterlands. They provided her a family and a sense of community, and when they asked Audren for help, how could she say no? Twice now the Red Plumes have faced her, and twice she has proven the First Law of Humanity holds no sway outside those city walls. Today, they bring her to the Stop "on business." But what kind of business, and at the Plodding Plow no less? Gemma and Unko Talok were there when the First Law of Humanity came for her mentor. She was questioned, submitted them as dutifully as his chaotic nature would allow them, and made herself an enemy of the state. With his mentor, the dwarven smith and jeweler Aengoth, already having fled ahead of Gemma to Elventree, the two have, in the past three months, worked on reestablishing contact with their clients in and around Hillsfar as far as the law allows. This has been troubling, for they have found quite a few customers won't even come to them for fear of the Red Plumes. Convinced by friend Krone to come to the Stop for business and for other reasons, Gemma has come on business. But what kind of business? The horrors of the First Law of Humanity are very different for Sanguinus Aurelius Cicero. What happened that day in Hillsfar utterly transformed him: not just forcing him from his city of birth and home for life, but into a life he scarcely understands. Justice is blind, they say, and that day when Sanguinus brought justice down on a new Red Plume and former ally, he made himself an enemy but a servant of a god he scarcely considered before: Tyr, god of justice. Whatever his choice, he appears in conversation with a higher power, and that higher power has kept him afloat since leaving Hillsfar and staying one step ahead of the Red Plumes, who are seeking him out. A hunter of sorts found him recently, knowing his reputation: named Ymmeline, she thought he could help her and the countryside at large. Tracking a group of rust monsters for days, they have gone missing. Why? That's what Sanguinus is being sent to find out. Meet with the proprietor of the Plodding Plow, and find out. And then what? It is a cold set of tendays in the second week of the year when they each of them arrive in the Stop, making their way through the surprisingly wide streets and stacks of smoke from busy homes towards the Plodding Plow, a wonderfully rustic tavern and inn and one of the taller buildings in the Stop. Off the square to the left of the massive granary, the sign is carved to look as a plow, with its name written simply upon it, and underneath it a date: Est. 1434 DR. Inside the smell is immediately Celestial, a strong ever-burning stew on the spit and clearly some kind of winter game in preparation. With it is the smell of constantly making bread, and fresh straw: at the feet of each newcomer is a batch of it to catch whatever the road brings with people and get it off their feet before the melting snow makes a stink of the whole floor. A central roaring fire has a cauldron above it, from which the stew cooks, and a group of dwarven, gnomish, and halfling women scurry around making deliveries of mead and meat. 12 Hammer, Year of the Star Walker's Return 1490 DR, The Plodding Plow, The Stop, Southern Moonsea In time, each of them become known to the proprietor, a middle-aged dwarven woman by the name of Glenna Moonsmith, a comely woman with a stained apron and reddened cheeks, clearly a woman who can get her hands dirty. Her attention given, her smile is broad as she approaches each newcomer in turn. "Welcome to the Plodding Plow; I've set aside a table for you'ens and your hopefully new companions. Sit there, listen to my rumors, 'nd drinks'er on me. That's all I ask." She indicates a table by the northern window, where snow falls casually but slowly outside, building up near the stables behind the Plow along with a pile of that which ought not be considered. Already on the table are six goblets, three wine glasses (you can never predict the tastes of people), a pitcher of amber liquid, and six bowls of stew, smelling faintly of roasted potatoes and beets with a side of beef chunk; a separate wooden plate sits waiting for the fine-smelling boar that cooks in the center of the Plow. A time for introductions, then! Out of Character Welcome to the game! My posts will be smaller henceforth, and my next post will get us moving, I think. Right now I'm offering a chance for you to show off your new character and do some roleplaying; I'm planning on posting by Friday at the latest. A few things: Give us a quick sense of the character, reveal whatever you want to reveal, etc. If you came here with a NPC, which I leave entirely in your hands (except Audren), sideline them immediately; Audren, I'll do that for you, but your NPCs will be important to another PC in a not so obvious way quickly. If you've got Faction loyalties, reveal them or hide them at your leisure; I trust people not to metagame with the info above. Let's dance! I'll reveal combat info as we approach it.