Butchern

21 hours ago, Blue Firebird said:

"I will try one with you, if you'd like."

I'll leave it to @Caystodd if she wants to share the spotlight here.

On 12/6/2023 at 9:03 PM, matt_s said:

Oh, and I almost forgot to ask - got any festivities planned, and any room for a few more guests?

The answer is, of course, yes. They have festivities planned. But, as I warned in the game intro, I don't . 😁 Did you have anything in mind? Or I can make some stuff up? Or we can ask the all-knowing Lord ChatGPT as we did last time.

On 12/6/2023 at 9:03 PM, matt_s said:

I do believe I have time to listen if you've the time to tell.

Tore nodded and smiled. These were stories he liked to tell apparently. "The giant's toe is mine. When I was a younger man, a hill giant lived up in the hills about ten miles north of here. One day, he got mind to come to town to get up to no good. I told him he needed to go home. We fought. I landed a few solid blows, as did he. But when I took his toe with my blade, he turned and headed back to the hills. He hasn't been back to town since, but, occasionally, folks around here see him in the distance or see signs of his passing. They used to say he had quite a little treasure horde up there in his cave. Taken from caravans and other travelers in the north. No one ever had the nerve to go look. I left town shortly after my victory for a life of adventure. Fought in the south for decades. I've only been back in the north for about seven years now. I'm too old to fight giants these days.

"The rabbit skull was a gift to the previous owner. It was from the last dwarven mining party to leave the old keep and abandon the mine to the east of here, over across the river. They call those dire rabbits Ettak in dwarven. So the previous owner said. He might have been pulling my leg. I've never seen anything like them either. If they do exist, those pelts would be worth a fortune. No one has ever seen one though, not that I've heard tell."
 

On 12/6/2023 at 9:53 AM, Caystodd said:

"I'll take one."

"Well, we normally don't serve but one a night anymore. Last year this time, the entire Brewer clan took shots, and they about burned the inn down. And it ain't even supper yet, but . . ." He was shaking his head "no," but he was looking at the coin she was tapping on the bar. "What could it hurt I guess?"

Tore crouched down behind the bar to get something that was stored one one of the low shelves. His massive bulk was still visible above the bar, even stooped down. The caravaners heard the sound of jingling keys, then some clicks, then a creak. Tore stood up with an ornate dwarven glass-and-metal flask. A dark red liquid was contained within. He set it down on the bar and yelled, "Clara! Gilly! One of you fetch me some fresh snow."

"Yes 'em!" Gilly called from somewhere in the back, and a door slammed.

With Tore's call for fresh snow, the inn went silent. People were turning in their chairs to look at the bar and were craning their necks to see what they hoped they might see: The flask.

"Well this ought to be good," someone murmured.

"Snow Blindness," someone else whispered.

Gilly returned with a ladle full of fresh snow. Tore popped the cork from the flask and black smoke rose up from the liquid inside. It smelled like oranges and medicine. Tore produced a shot glass, filled it with snow, and then slowly poured the smoking liquid over the snow. Some of the old timers in the inn stood out of respect for Tore, the flask, and whichever of the caravaners was about to down the Snow Blindness. The liquid melted the snow, leaving a shot glass about half full of a pink liquid. It had stopped smoking.

Tore pushed the glass toward Gert and took her coin. "Best do it all in one go. That's how it's done at any rate."

Got two on my nightstand. I hope to start on the first one tonight: The Fisherman by John Langan and Or Share of Night by Mariana Enriquez.

Okay, Seresse can add a Fate Point to her sheet. I've added the Situation Aspect (Gives the Town the Creeps) to the tracking post.

@Caystodd, if you want that drink, it will take some convincing. Tore is pretty sure young Gert might die if she drinks it. :D Let's set the opposition to convince him as Good (+3). He's proud of his drink, but he is also chivalrous at heart.

Seresse and Celeg can join them in the inn now if they like, or you can finish up your scene as you see fit.

@SirLoganofGilead, I'll have your job quest served up on Day 2.

23 hours ago, matt_s said:

He paused, then ran through the logistics of the situation with her and finished with a compliment, genuine in word and meaning, about the state of the place.

"Why thank you," Gilly said. "We normally have a boy to help with the stables, so I can't take all the honors. But his ma said he had to be home on the first day o' Pelor's Rest, so yer stuck with me."

Gilly showed Celeg where they kept the feed bag and dry blankets and pointed him to a stall that had been freshly mucked. "Best take your tack with you to your room. It will frost out here overnight.
 

19 hours ago, Blue Firebird said:

The Elf turns to Gilly, and in the dim light beneath her hood, the frosty glow of her eyes recalls something out of legend. Something the Northerners are all too familiar with: draugr. As she smiles, the light darkens further, like night descends on the barn for but a moment, and then passes again to day. Seresse smiles with complete, if uncertain, sincerity, yet in that dark moment, shadows make it seem more sinister than sincere.

"Not that you can't...I just mean that we are quite accustomed to it."

"Oh, its no trouble at all, I . . ." Gilly stopped and her mouth dropped when she caught Seresse's visage at just the wrong moment. Her face went involuntarily pale. Though it was obvious to all that she was trying to master herself, it was not clear if Gilly was trying not to fight or not to flee, but regardless, she succeeded at not fighting and decided a controlled retreat was in order. "Well, I'll leave ya' to it," she said hastily. "I have to get back." Gilly gestured in the general direction of the inn. "See the man at the bar if you need anything else." And then she hurried out the door.
 

22 hours ago, Caystodd said:

Gert leaned against the bar and asked Tore, "What's in a Snow Blindness? I've never heard of it?" As he answered she watched the tiefling girl climb the stairs.

"It's purified Blackhoard, a dwarven spirit, more than a century old," Tore explained proudly, but it was unnecessary; Gert knew what Blackhoard was. "I've distilled it a second time to purify it, and I serve it as a shot, diluted with fresh snowfall. That's so it won't kill you on the way down. It packs a punch like nothing else. With one shot, you can eat coals and spit fire. The dwarves of the north used to drink it to commune with their god. With one shot you can preach like a cleric, sing like a bard, fight like a savage, and fu-" Tore stopped himself and cleared his throat, deciding on a more polite turn of phrase. "It is said to bring out a person's . . . um . . . romantic side as well. Also the hangover is like taking a club repeatedly to the head." And Tore looked like a man who had taken more than a few blows to the head.

"Up girl. Let's go."

Olive backed up, bow still in hand and grabbed the girl by the arm. "Keep up and we'll have you out of here in no time."

In a few strides, Olive caught up with Glanton and began making a break for it along side him.

As Gert surveyed the room, four things immediately presented themselves as possible points of interest.

First, the stonework of the hearth looked old, older than the inn, but how old she could not say. Perhaps the inn had been built around the ancient hearth long ago. Above the hearth on the stonework of the chimney, hooks had been hammered into the stone. Various curiosities hung on those hooks: a battered sword, a dried bouquet of flowers, an aging and rotted sign from when the Blizzard was young. What caught Gert's eye however was the silver chain that hung from one of the hooks. The chain ended in what looked like a human toe, but it was clearly far too large for a human toe. It was bigger than a man's fist.

Second, a massive piece of slate hung from the wall behind the bar. On that slate, someone with a pretty, looping script had written in chalk the inn's menu: food, drinks, all of it. One item in particular, however, stood out to Gert. It was a drink entitled Snow Blindness, and beside it was sketched an ancient dwarven rune. Gert recognized it "Norägthaz," the Dward rune for danger.

Third, several animal trophies were mounted throughout the common room of the Blizzard. Most of them were mundane enough, though quite impressive specimens. But one of the trophies was the head of a rabbit that was as large as a horse's head! It's fur was snow white and it sported two large antlers growing out of its head. Gert had never seen anything like it.

Fourth, it was not a thing that caught Gert's eye but a person—the girl named Clara. She was young, younger than Gilly, but still of a marriageable age, in the North at least. As she passed by the bar to head up to the rooms to be sure they were ready, the scarf she wore started to slip. She quickly righted it, but when she did Gert noticed the spots on the back of the girl's neck and behind her ears that rose up into small dark ridges, almost like scales. The girl had covered them well with her hair and with the scarf, but Gert saw them. This girl was a Tiefling, one of the mortal races that had an infernal ancestor. Tieflings were incredibly rare in most of the kingdoms, and in the Middle Kingdom their very presence was outlawed.

From the Discord. Putting this here for posterity.

Quote

Caystodd — Today at 12:28 PM
I would like to compel Gert's Trouble. Is there anyone or anything in the common room that might catch her insatiable curiosity that could get her into some trouble?

Butchern — Today at 12:58 PM
Fine with me. Let's ask ChatGPT to pick out some.

Caystodd - Today at 1:01 PM
😵

Butchern — Today at 1:02 PM
Are you at a place where you can make a quick post that I can respond to?

Caystodd — Today at 1:02 PM
From my phone. Will post now.
posted

Butchern — Today at 1:10 PM
I asked ChatGPT several different ways and have gotten a mountain of mostly nothing, but there are some gems there, especially when viewed through the lens of what I have already posted. I'll try to post here in a few minutes.

Butchern - Today at 1:12 PM
@Caystodd not all of these will be things Gert can try, but they should give you something to go on.

On 11/28/2023 at 8:08 PM, Butchern said:

FYI, there are a few other caravaners with y'all that will be NPCs. I haven't decided how many yet. I'll figure that out tomorrow.

I have decided to add one couple, a well-traveled merchant and his wife: Darin and Linnell. They have a wagon full of goods with the abandoned caravan, getting buried under the snow. Also, the leader of the caravan and a few of his guards decided to stay behind, dig in beneath the wagons, and wait out the blizzard to guard the goods.

Celeg and Seresse can finish their conversation in the barn. If you want that conversation to be private, just post Gilly's exit and she's gone. Or you can join the others in the inn.

Everyone else, you can find an empty table to wait at, talk to Tore, or do something else. Up to you. The Blizzard is a pretty friendly place.

The caravaners entered the Blizzard through a small anteroom at the end of the building. The floor there was covered in sopping wet furs to help collect the snow and ice from traveler boots. With the door shut behind them, the warmth of the inn invaded the anteroom as did the smell of bread and beer and the noise of conversation.

The Blizzard was a stout two-story building with a great hearth on its south side and a bar on its north. The middle of the main room of the Blizzard stretched up to the second story ceiling. From the ground floor, the travelers could see up to the second floor which boasted six large rooms that opened onto a railed walkway that allowed a view of the common room below.

A half-dozen tables set in front of the hearth, and they were occupied by townsfolk (by the look of them), mostly men, who chatted and drank. The chattering stopped momentarily, but not so long as to be rude, when the caravaners entered the bar and then quickly resumed.

The man at the bar looked as though he might have some giant blood in him. He was as wide as he was tall, and that was saying something. He was bald with a short, neatly-trimmed beard and hands so large he looked like he could strangle a horse. But his gentle eyes and hearty laugh told the travelers that all horses were safe in his presence.

"Tore's my name!" he bellowed when the caravaners approached the bar. "Welcome to the Blizzard."

On 11/30/2023 at 11:40 PM, SirLoganofGilead said:

"Please tell me you have rooms, and something hot to eat. We have a group that his been stuck out in this storm."

"I do! We have six rooms, but one of them is occupied. If we need more rooms, me and the serving girls can sleep in front of the hearth, and you can have our rooms. I see four of you here," Tore counted Gert, Aron, Darin, and Linnell. The merchant Darin and his wife Linnell hadn't spoken since they set out from the caravan into the blizzard. The middle-aged couple were too busy trying not to freeze to death. "Those two clearly go together," Tore laughed. Darin had his arm around his wife and was trying to warm her with his cloak. "So, three rooms then? Or are there more of you?"

22 hours ago, Caystodd said:

"I'll send the stable boy."

"Five rooms it is," Tore said after Gert explained their number. Then Tore bellowed out over the noise of the crowd. "Gilly!"

One of the serving girls appeared from the storeroom on the east side of the building. "Yes'um?" She yelled back without looking over to the bar. Gilly was tall, busty, and redheaded, a woman of the north. She was well old enough to be married but still fresh-faced and youthful. She was carrying a large stack of wood in her arms.

"Guests at the stables!"

"Yes'um!" Gilly plodded over to the hearth and dumped the wood on the metal grate. She then fetched her cloak from the hook on the wall by the door and out into the snow she went.

"Clara!" Tore bellowed again. A smaller, younger girl looked up from the tray she was serving at one of the tables. "Yes, sir?"

Clara could barely be heard over the noise of the crowd. She had olive skin, raven hair, and delicate features. Her hair was loosely wrapped in a scarlet scarf. Not a woman of the north in any way.

"Get all the empty rooms ready! We have guests for the week."

"Yes, sir!"

~~~

Gert appeared at the stables with a lantern and a hair full of snow. Once she was under cover, she shook herself off like a wet dog.

"Welcome to th' Blizzard," she said as though she had said it a hundred times . . . because she probably had. Then she quickly began to help Celeg and Seresse get the horses squared away. "We're gettin' yer rooms ready now. Supper's in about an hour if'n you're hungry."

Let's say it is about an hour from sunset, so getting to be dinner time.

 "Aye, there's a stable at the inn. You can't miss it," he repeated.

On 11/28/2023 at 9:22 PM, matt_s said:

Pelor's blessing be with you.

"And blessings to you too!" the man called after them as they started up the hill. The men either didn't catch or didn't understand Gert's thank you.

The inn was easy to spot almost as soon as the caravaners started up the slope. It stood tall, just off the road to the east, and the warm light from its windows was visible through the now-lightly-blowing snow. The inn's wooden sign, adorned with a snow-laden pine motif, creaked against the gusting wind. The name etched on the sign in broad letters read: The Blizzard. The two-story structure boasted stout timber timber walls and thick glass windows, both of which were frosted with a layer of white.

Footprints in the snow, coming from both up and down the hill, led to the heavy oaken door that was shut against the cold. The sound of chatter as well as the smell of fire and food drifted down from the Blizzard.

Just to the south of the inn stood a small stable. Snow piled up against the door and their appeared to be no occupants: man or beast.

No worries. I like it.

FYI, you guys came in from the left of the map. The red dot is where you met the men by the fire. The arrow points to the inn.

"Travelers? In this weather? Why in the hell would you do that?" The man seemed genuinely puzzled.

On 11/26/2023 at 9:15 PM, matt_s said:

Had to leave our wagons and make a break for it . . .

"Oh, a caravan? Bad luck," another man called from beside the fire. "When a blizzard like this sets in, it could be here for day."

"The valley protects us from the worst of it," a third man said from behind the fire. "But you'll likely not be going anywhere anytime soon."

Having decided that the caravaners were not a threat, the three men approached the frozen travelers. The men were dressed like men of the north—furs and leathers and bushy hats. The used the butts of their long spears to help walk through the accumulating snow. They looked like stout men, but all that could be seen of them were their eyes and noses peaking out from beneath all the warm clothes.

"We only have a few visitors right now in the inn," the first man said. He cocked his head as he looked at the group and moved his lips while he counted them. "I think there will be room for you all. If not, I'm sure there's a warm barn or two that will put you up for barely a coin."

On 11/27/2023 at 6:23 PM, Caystodd said:

"We can pay."

"You have imperial coins, do you? Color me impressed. Tore will be your best friend when catches wind of that. Tore is the owner of the Blizzard, the only tavern inn in Redbark. My name is Reder. I'm the sheriff here in Redbark," the first man said. He gestured to the two other men. "This is Henry and Gilew. They are brothers, and they are on watch duty with me tonight. Inn is straight ahead up the hill. First building on your right. You can't miss it."

On 11/27/2023 at 6:31 PM, SirLoganofGilead said:

"Maybe some work if you have some?"

"This is the First Day of Pelor's Rest. There won't be much working going on this week, but can't hurt to ask around."

On 11/27/2023 at 3:06 AM, Blue Firebird said:

"I had heard of a festival. . . ."

"Who hasn't heard of Pelor's Rest? Why, even the desert elves in the far south celebrate the Sun God on these seven holy days."

FYI, there are a few other caravaners with y'all that will be NPCs. I haven't decided how many yet. I'll figure that out tomorrow.

Campaign Aspects:
Campaign Aspects can always be invoked with a Fate Point by anyone. I am also giving you one free invoke on each to encourage their use.

The Wild North [ ], An Epic Blizzard [ ], A Cozy Small Town [ ]

Situation Aspects:
Situation Aspects are created by players or the GM and stick around as long as they have a fictional justification to do so. Anyone can invoke a Situation Aspect by spending a Fate Point. Situation Aspects with free invokes on them can only be invoked by their creator or with their creator's permission.

A Bag Full of Imperial Coin (Gert) [ ]
Gives the Town Gilly the Creeps (on Seresse) [X]
Snow Blindness (on Gert) [ ]

I like it!

Great start, y'all. I'll update tonight after dinner to move us along.

The only three things I see right off are 1) You should only have three boxes for Mental Stress (2 base +1 for Fair Will) and 2) you have a magic sword but don't have the Fight skill (it's fine if you planned it that way), and 3) it would probably be more interesting if you moved Undead up to your High Concept and then picked something for your trouble that told us something interesting about your character that could be used to drive the story forward and that wasn't a fantasy trope. What is it about her personality that gets her into trouble in interesting ways?

Okay, I posted up a prompt that you can respond to. Caystodd wants to make more changes to her character, so I'm going to wait to make a final review of the characters until she is done. They are good to go for now. I don't suspect major changes.

"Who goes there?" called one of the men from around the fire. He stepped forward but was barely visible through the now lightly falling snow.

Olive is going to back up 30' or however far she can get and switch out her bow. If she can ready or delay an action to shoot any baddie who comes out the door (just not the drow), she will.

Olive was already outside when the plan fell to pieces. She still had the girl by the front of her dress, but she put her feet on the ground and began backing them both up, until she was clear of whomever might storm out the door. She stowed her axe and pulled out her bow.

"If things go badly, run. That way." Olive gestured with her chin in the direction from which they had originally come.

There is going to be room for all sorts of things to do in this game. Make him a singer or a poet or a (animal) healer or someone who can perform marriages or something on top of being a great rider/jouster. Everything can be useful in Fate and will be fun in this game.