Episode 1: The Hand of Vanth

[Quetzalcoatl]

Percep: 1d100: [92] = 92 / 15%
JIC: 1d100: [4] = 4 / 1d20: [3] = 3

Talkies: 1d100: [45] = 45 / 44%

Quetzal considers the reasons for this strange violence, initially confused, but then realizing that it's a fight over territory, ultimately. Well, that makes sense, at least. It doesn't explain the weird glowing hand thing, but at least the motives for killing this man are... logical from a certain point of view.

He gets ready to try to explain a complex thought in minimal words. Points at the corvid and says.

"His hand, no worth to piggy turtle."

It's not a sacrifice if you make someone else pay it, but it still clearly worked.

Quetzal then picks up one of the dead pigs and flops it onto the altar, draws his knife and points at its hands. "Twooo haaands," he repeats, quizzically.

[Augur]

Conditions:
Date/Time: July 5th, 20th Year of Longjaw/Evening
Location: Fallwood
Environment: Light Forest, Night
Modifiers: No visual modifiers due to strange illumination

“Perhaps you ought to ask them your question,” he suggests to the crow. “After all, you’ve already made the sacrifice.”

"But, as Jesper pointed out, you are the one that paid the price. So I will only ask if you are sure you have none."

Harold shakes his head so violently a few small feathers can be seen falling to ground from his shoulders. "No, I want nothing more to do with this place, and the insanity of the Chiromancers has persuaded me out of any further frivolities or parlor tricks of this sort. Perhaps the Orthodox were right to advise me to stay well away from such matters."

Pip looks back at the skulls, trying to see if there is any indicator as to each's specialty.

While the five skulls are each situated inside a recessed portion of each massive stone digit, and each skull & its spot is decorated with different painted scrawlings, Pip finds his education insufficient to the task of discerning any real insight.

Quetzal then picks up one of the dead pigs and flops it onto the altar, draws his knife and points at its hands. "Twooo haaands," he repeats, quizzically.

This action draws the attention of all those gathered, especially Pip who is in such close proximity, but nothing happens otherwise.

What are your intentions?

Butcher's Bill

Birger:
Irok: Leather armor destroyed, -12 S.D.C.
Kaster:
Jesper:
Pip:
Quetzalcoatl: -32 S.D.C.

[Jesper]

Perception: 1d100: [31] = 31 / 45% (+10% if Danger Sense is active, -15% to anything within 60' in front of Jesper)
JIC: 1d20: [5] = 5 / 1d100: [71] = 71
Conditions: Danger Sense
Skills:

Hand of Vanth

Jesper gives Harold a small nod, understanding why the corvid wants nothing to do with the spirits. His eyes sweep the skulls again, then the altar. His curiosity creeps into his thoughts. I could tear a small corner, the rabbit reasons, thinking of his mentor’s scarf. Surely that would be enough for one question.

Quetzal then picks up one of the dead pigs and flops it onto the altar, draws his knife and points at its hands. "Twooo haaands," he repeats, quizzically.

Jesper jumps a little at the sudden arrival of the dead pig, but recovers quickly. He looks at the sacrifice and then to Quetzal. “Does it count if he’s dead? He has no use for his hands…”

[Pip]

Perception: 1d100: [18] = 18 /44% (+10% if Danger Sense is active, +10% when in darkness, +5% to perceiving any tactile characteristics)
Just in Case: 1d20: [10] = 10 ; 1d100: [34] = 34
Conditions: Danger Sense

“Perhaps you ought to ask them your question,” he suggests to the crow. “After all, you’ve already made the sacrifice.”

"But, as Jesper pointed out, you are the one that paid the price. So I will only ask if you are sure you have none."

Harold shakes his head so violently a few small feathers can be seen falling to ground from his shoulders. "No, I want nothing more to do with this place, and the insanity of the Chiromancers has persuaded me out of any further frivolities or parlor tricks of this sort. Perhaps the Orthodox were right to advise me to stay well away from such matters."

Pip crosses his arms with a huff. "While there is no doubt that Chiromancers are fanatics. The Orthodox are regressively fearful, they don't try to understand something before they decide it is bad. Caution can be good, blind fear is not."

Quetzal then picks up one of the dead pigs and flops it onto the altar, draws his knife and points at its hands. "Twooo haaands," he repeats, quizzically.

This action draws the attention of all those gathered, especially Pip who is in such close proximity, but nothing happens otherwise.

Jesper jumps a little at the sudden arrival of the dead pig, but recovers quickly. He looks at the sacrifice and then to Quetzal. “Does it count if he’s dead? He has no use for his hands…”

Pip shuffles away when such a comparatively large body is dropped right next to him. "I am not sure, but there is no need for us to sink to Clement's level. Let's leave the mutilation to the fanatics. Besides, the job is not done until Herald is home right? Let us deny Clement any reward for his cruelty and be on our way." Turning from the group Pip approaches the index finger. 'The index finger points to things, including information in books. Good enough reasoning for a crapshoot I guess.' "What is the nature of this structure?" He asks the embedded skull.

[Irok]

Perception: 8% / 1d100: [87] = 87
JIC: 1d20: [1] = 1 / 1d100: [27] = 27
Conditions:

A mutant with Telepathic Listening can "hear" what a person is thinking. This is done by focusing on one person and picking up on his or her surface thoughts.

Harold shakes his head so violently a few small feathers can be seen falling to ground from his shoulders. "No, I want nothing more to do with this place, and the insanity of the Chiromancers has persuaded me out of any further frivolities or parlor tricks of this sort. Perhaps the Orthodox were right to advise me to stay well away from such matters."

Irok immediately puts a reassuring paw on Harold's shoulder. HAROLD SAFE. The bear might be considered a moron by many, but he knows well thoughts of fear and comfort.

Pip crosses his arms with a huff. "While there is no doubt that Chiromancers are fanatics. The Orthodox are regressively fearful, they don't try to understand something before they decide it is bad. Caution can be good, blind fear is not."

The bear watches Pip with no particular threat in his gaze, but rather a kind of firm doubtfulness set on his furry face. He imagines all the Orthodox folk would be comfortable in their homes right about now, with their hands where they belonged; attached to wrists.

ORTH. O. DOX. KEEP HANDS

He wonders why the complicated folk were always so quick to put down those who want to keep things simple. He tunes his telepathic listening to Pip's mind in an attempt to understand what weird thoughts are whirling around in there.

Pip shuffles away when such a comparatively large body is dropped right next to him. "I am not sure, but there is no need for us to sink to Clement's level. Let's leave the mutilation to the fanatics. Besides, the job is not done until Herald is home right? Let us deny Clement any reward for his cruelty and be on our way." Turning from the group Pip approaches the index finger. 'The index finger points to things, including information in books. Good enough reasoning for a crapshoot I guess.' "What is the nature of this structure?" He asks the embedded skull.

Without thinking Irok immediately answers. HAROLD ALREADY SAY. EAT HANDS. ANSWER QUESTIONS. As he watches he wonders how a severed hand could make a better answer than this. Irok cannot fathom the attraction of this place, he'd rather be whittling or eating fish. He thinks of the word he gleaned from Pip's mind. CRAPSHOOT.

[Augur]

Conditions:
Date/Time: July 5th, 20th Year of Longjaw/Evening
Location: Fallwood
Environment: Light Forest, Night
Modifiers: No visual modifiers due to strange illumination

Having heard the skulls named, and having seen the glyphs in the recesses of the skulls, Pip makes a leap of understanding and comes to realize which named skull is in which digit's recess: Inaha (thumb), Theox (index finger), Ortria (middle finger), Tesska (ring finger), Pendat (pinky). What those names mean, if anything, is still a mystery. Harold, however, sees the revelation in process and says, "I can add only that I know the skulls perform different functions as it were, but not which skull performs which function. Clement loved to show off his 'arcane wisdom' to me since the pigs were too dense to appreciate his artful lies." Harold strokes his tail feathers with his remaining hand, clears his throat, and quotes, "One is a retrocog, one is a seer, one is a far-talker, one is a maledictor, and one is a necrovoch."

"What is the nature of this structure?" Pip asks the skull recessed into the index finger.

The skull in the index finger does nothing, but the one recessed into the cavity in the pinky begins moving. Its jaw opens and closes as though a living head were animating it. A voice like that of tin bells being carried on the wind resounds from the skull's glowing green head. "The wisdom of the ages calls through the eddies of time and space. From the mind of a man obsessed with the tools of the ancients, this sanctuary was to serve as an adjunct to an arcane library. The library was never constructed."

The unearthly green glow fades and the area is left, finally, in relative darkness with only the light of the moon illuminating the clearing, the stone fingers, and the bloody altar.

What are your intentions?

Butcher's Bill

Birger:
Irok: Leather armor destroyed, -12 S.D.C.
Kaster:
Jesper:
Pip:
Quetzalcoatl: -32 S.D.C.

[Irok]

Perception: 8% / 1d100: [79] = 79
JIC: 1d20: [17] = 17 / 1d100: [82] = 82
Conditions:

Keeping his mind trained on Pip as he delves into the mysteries of the hand. A mutant with Telepathic Listening can "hear" what a person is thinking. This is done by focusing on one person and picking up on his or her surface thoughts.

As the skull speaks Irok's eyes are alive with a kind of wary watchfulness.

TALKY SKULLS TALK TOO MUCH. He examines the skulls more closely in the green light, trying to judge whether the skulls could be forcibly removed from their places in each enormous finger. The bear is concerned, but not from the skulls themselves, but how many hands will go missing should the clever folk make a habit of asking pointless questions. His gaze lingers a moment on Harold's bloodied stump, then roam about the clearing looking for options. MUST KEEP HANDS. He particularly is concerned about Pip, and how he feels about this asking questions of this place.

Irok looks left and right for any large boulders or rocks or trees, keeping his thoughts to himself.

As the green light fades, the bear makes a decision. If at all possible, he would return.

And bury this place under a mountain of rocks.

OOC Comments

Specifically, Irok wants to know if the skulls look removable, the hand looks breakable, or if there appears to be suitable materials nearby to pile atop this place. Rocks weighing a few tons each would be ideal.

[Pip]

Perception: 1d100: [92] = 92 /44% (+10% if Danger Sense is active, +10% when in darkness, +5% to perceiving any tactile characteristics)
Just in Case: 1d20: [6] = 6 ; 1d100: [87] = 87
Conditions: Danger Sense

The bear watches Pip with no particular threat in his gaze, but rather a kind of firm doubtfulness set on his furry face. He imagines all the Orthodox folk would be comfortable in their homes right about now, with their hands where they belonged; attached to wrists.

ORTH. O. DOX. KEEP HANDS

"That has no correlation... err, direct connection." Pip tries to keep his speech simple for Irok's sake. What might help me illustrate my point? Hmm... I see him carving all the time. "Think of it like this. If someone attacked you just for carving a piece of wood for fun, is it your fault for carving the wood? Is carving bad? No too both, the fault is theirs for attacking you."

Having heard the skulls named, and having seen the glyphs in the recesses of the skulls, Pip makes a leap of understanding and comes to realize which named skull is in which digit's recess: Inaha (thumb), Theox (index finger), Ortria (middle finger), Tesska (ring finger), Pendat (pinky). What those names mean, if anything, is still a mystery. Harold, however, sees the revelation in process and says, "I can add only that I know the skulls perform different functions as it were, but not which skull performs which function. Clement loved to show off his 'arcane wisdom' to me since the pigs were too dense to appreciate his artful lies." Harold strokes his tail feathers with his remaining hand, clears his throat, and quotes, "One is a retrocog, one is a seer, one is a far-talker, one is a maledictor, and one is a necrovoch."

"Interesting... " Pip muses, then pauses. Wait, a necro what? I have never heard that suffix.

He wonders why the complicated folk were always so quick to put down those who want to keep things simple. He tunes his telepathic listening to Pip's mind in an attempt to understand what weird thoughts are whirling around in there.

Pip shuffles away when such a comparatively large body is dropped right next to him. "I am not sure, but there is no need for us to sink to Clement's level. Let's leave the mutilation to the fanatics. Besides, the job is not done until Herald is home right? Let us deny Clement any reward for his cruelty and be on our way." Turning from the group Pip approaches the index finger. 'The index finger points to things, including information in books. Good enough reasoning for a crapshoot I guess.' "What is the nature of this structure?" He asks the embedded skull.

Without thinking Irok immediately answers. HAROLD ALREADY SAY. EAT HANDS. ANSWER QUESTIONS. As he watches he wonders how a severed hand could make a better answer than this. Irok cannot fathom the attraction of this place, he'd rather be whittling or eating fish. He thinks of the word he gleaned from Pip's mind. CRAPSHOOT.

Pip looks over his shoulder at Irok. "Just because that is how Clement used it does not mean that is how it works." He then stiffens when the timing of Irok's last comment dawns on him. "Wait, did y..."

The skull in the index finger does nothing, but the one recessed into the cavity in the pinky begins moving. Its jaw opens and closes as though a living head were animating it. A voice like that of tin bells being carried on the wind resounds from the skull's glowing green head. "The wisdom of the ages calls through the eddies of time and space. From the mind of a man obsessed with the tools of the ancients, this sanctuary was to serve as an adjunct to an arcane library. The library was never constructed."

The unearthly green glow fades and the area is left, finally, in relative darkness with only the light of the moon illuminating the clearing, the stone fingers, and the bloody altar.

Pip turns to face the pinky as he ponders its response. "So any finger will answer the question, you don't have to ask a specific one, and it seems Pendat the pinky is likely the retrocog. But more importantly, the Hand was meant as the adjunct of an unfinished library. That is both exciting and saddening. Seams it was most likely built in The Old Days. Now if only we knew how to operate it with something less barbaric than severed hands..." He says with a look of disgust, but then shrugs and turns to face the group. "Oh well, no use wondering about that right now. We need to get our rescuee home to proper medical attention." Looking meaningfully at Irok, Pip thinks. You can listen to thoughts can't you.

[Birger]

Perception: 1d100: [19] = 19 /69%
Just in Case: 1d20: [19] = 19 ; 1d100: [78] = 78
Conditions:

Can see double the usual distance and detail of normal human vision.

,

Gives the character an increased chance (+10% skill bonus) to perform delicate actions and skills like picking locks and sleight of hand (palming, etc.). Characters can also recognize very slight differences in texture.

,

Allows the character to detect very faint scent traces. Tracking by smell (as a bloodhound) is possible at 59%+5% per level. Characters can also recognize the distinct smells of individuals and can detect when people experience extremes of emotions (69% +2% per level of experience). This is occasionally used as a lie-detector, but is rather unreliable.

Birger shakes his head and starts walking back to his cart. No time for mystic non-sense. Birger thinks as he goes to see how his donkey fared. Once back to his donkey Kiri, Birger pets her muzzle and climbs back into the driver's seat. Certainly interesting, but not something I can take home to my town... well not without likely being branded a lunatic and sunk to the bottom of the bay with heavy rocks. Birger muses, while waiting on the others to come back and be ready to make their way back to Kingsalter.

[Quetzalcoatl]

Percep: 1d100: [87] = 87 / 15%
JIC: 1d100: [93] = 93 / 1d20: [3] = 3

Talkies: 1d100: [62] = 62 / 44%

Quetzal listens, not entirely understanding what's being explained, but getting the gist. "Sssssecretsss!"

If we need to blackmail someone, I suppose this is the place to get that information, assuming we have some extra hands lying around.

He goes and helps Birger get the cart ready, plucking a few feathers from his chest to make a softer seat for their precious cargo.

"Neeest," he says to the raven, tapping the cart with his beak.

[Jesper]

Perception: 1d100: [38] = 38 / 45% (+10% if Danger Sense is active, -15% to anything within 60' in front of Jesper)
JIC: 1d20: [18] = 18 / 1d100: [30] = 30
Conditions: Danger Sense
Skills:

Hand of Vanth

Jes listens intently to the Hand’s reply to Pip, and while he doesn’t fully understand the answer, he briefly wonders if there’s another hand in the world. Maybe a whole body scattered and buried…? Jesper’s mind reminds him again of Marcus’ scarf. He briefly entertains the notion of sacrificing a piece of the precious cloth, but another idea comes to him. What if the Hand only accepts a hand as sacrifice?

As the others seemingly prepare to leave the site, Jesper finds himself led by his curiosity. “What if it's enough…?” He pulls his mentor’s scarf from his belongings, then tears a small portion of material from it. Jes makes his way up the altar and once there, he offers the scrap of silk. With his dagger, Jes makes a small cut in his hand and presses the wound down on his sacrifice. Jesper then waits with anticipation.

If the Hand comes back to life, he asks, “Where will I find my parents?”

If the Hand remains dark and still, a disappointed Jesper will whisper, “It was worth trying.” He gathers himself and belongings and prepares to make the trek back to Kingsalter.

[Augur]

Conditions:
Date/Time: July 5th, 20th Year of Longjaw/Evening
Location: Fallwood
Environment: Light Forest, Night
Modifiers: No visual modifiers due to strange illumination

He examines the skulls more closely in the green light, trying to judge whether the skulls could be forcibly removed from their places in each enormous finger.

Indeed, the skulls, when not glowing green and floating in place look to simply be resting inside the recesses of each of their respective stone fingers.

"Oh well, no use wondering about that right now. We need to get our rescuee home to proper medical attention."

Harold grimaces, tries to make a joke to lighten the mood and take away some of the sting of his new reality, but a stab of pain interrupts him and murders the joke mid-birth. "A salve and bandage to prevent infection, and maybe some hot tea & brandy for my nerves would be nice, but I think that will likely be the end of any treatment. The pig was blessedly accurate in his blow, and so severed my hand neatly at the joint. Good thing, too, our hollow bones make for easy breaking, and a shattered bone is far more likely to kill you than losing an appendage."

Once back to his donkey, Kiri, Birger pets her muzzle and climbs back into the driver's seat.

Kiri is in as fine of spirits as normal. The unflappable donkey insists upon languorous scratches behind her ears before she'll accede to following instructions or taking a lead, however, and so the toll must be paid. When donkeys are of a mind, and have decided on something, there's as good of a chance of persuading one out of an idea as there is in convincing The Orthodox that trying something new won't be the end of all that's holy and just in the world.

He goes and helps Birger get the cart ready, plucking a few feathers from his chest to make a softer seat for their precious cargo. "Neeest," he says to the raven, tapping the cart with his beak.

Harold looks from Quetzal to the "nest," and back to Quetzal again. "Okay," Harold says, stepping up and into the cart with some help from the Birger and giant hummingbird. He takes a seat where Quetzal made his small sacrifice. "Thank you. I'm good from here though." Birger and Kaster get their vehicles ready. Pip climbs aboard Birger's cart, sees Quetzal, Harold, and then notices that Jesper's not among them. They get their carts in motion and head around the hillock to the site of The Hand of Vanth where they expect Jesper still lingers and arrive in time to see Jesper stand atop the dais and act.

As the others seemingly prepare to leave the site, Jesper finds himself led by his curiosity. “What if it's enough…?” He pulls his mentor’s scarf from his belongings, then tears a small portion of material from it. Jes makes his way up the altar and once there, he offers the scrap of silk. With his dagger, Jes makes a small cut in his hand and presses the wound down on his sacrifice. Jesper then waits with anticipation.

If the Hand comes back to life, he asks, “Where will I find my parents?”

The scrap of scarf begins to burn with wicked green flames and the remainder of the scarf around Jesper's neck begins to follow suit. Jesper has no choice but to quickly yank it off. The green flames consume the scarf in its entirety in a short-lived towering column of green fire. The green lights flare up all over the site once again and the skulls hover in place glowing until all but one comes to rest. After a moment, disembodied voices seem to emanate from the very earth under Jesper's feet, from the air around his pointed ears.

Marcus Sternclaw, Tesska the necrovoch summons you from beyond.
What in the black and silver? Who summons me? Was it not enough that I swung at the end of a rope twenty years too soon?
Silence! Where will Jesper Brambleborn find his parents, Sternclaw? Do not repeat the lie you told him and thereby dishonor the sacrificial rite!
The last I saw them was at Port Periwinkle. His father, anyway. Daenara was buried in the Fallwood after being taken by an infection. Only The Bone Grey or Queen Arabeth might possess the arcane wisdom to find Darius. After losing Daenara, he lost his thirst for thieving, and wanted instead to see the world so he could tell Daenara about it in the next life. He took a ship from the Port never to be seen in the Old Kingdom again.

The eerie green light fades away, the skulls settle in their recesses, and Jesper's head is filled with even more questions.

What are your intentions?

Butcher's Bill

Birger:
Irok: Leather armor destroyed, -12 S.D.C.
Kaster:
Jesper: Scarf destroyed
Pip:
Quetzalcoatl: -32 S.D.C.

[Birger]

Perception: 1d100: [40] = 40 /69%
Just in Case: 1d20: [6] = 6 ; 1d100: [2] = 2
Conditions:

Can see double the usual distance and detail of normal human vision.

,

Gives the character an increased chance (+10% skill bonus) to perform delicate actions and skills like picking locks and sleight of hand (palming, etc.). Characters can also recognize very slight differences in texture.

,

Allows the character to detect very faint scent traces. Tracking by smell (as a bloodhound) is possible at 59%+5% per level. Characters can also recognize the distinct smells of individuals and can detect when people experience extremes of emotions (69% +2% per level of experience). This is occasionally used as a lie-detector, but is rather unreliable.

Pilot: Teamster/Wagoner 1d100: [29] = 29 /54% (To drive the Wagon.)

Birger climbs into his drivers seat and awaits for the group to be ready to leave. "So where are we dropping you off at in Kingsalter?" Birger asks his wounded passenger. Birger says before clicking his tongue and giving the reigns a shake to let Kiri know it's time to move. "Can't say this is how I expected my walkabout to start, but it certainly is interesting." Birger says to no one in particular. Talking skulls are certainly not normal. Birger thinks grimly.

[Pip]

Perception: 1d100: [87] = 87 /44% (+10% if Danger Sense is active, +10% when in darkness, +5% to perceiving any tactile characteristics)
Just in Case: 1d20: [16] = 16 ; 1d100: [87] = 87
Conditions: Danger Sense

Harold grimaces, tries to make a joke to lighten the mood and take away some of the sting of his new reality, but a stab of pain interrupts him and murders the joke mid-birth. "A salve and bandage to prevent infection, and maybe some hot tea & brandy for my nerves would be nice, but I think that will likely be the end of any treatment. The pig was blessedly accurate in his blow, and so severed my hand neatly at the joint. Good thing, too, our hollow bones make for easy breaking, and a shattered bone is far more likely to kill you than losing an appendage."

"I hope that is the case, but better safe than sorry no?" Pip asks with a raised eyebrow.

Pip climbs aboard Birger's cart, sees Quetzal, Harold, and then notices that Jesper's not among them. They get their carts in motion and head around the hillock to the site of The Hand of Vanth where they expect Jesper still lingers and arrive in time to see Jesper stand atop the dais and act.

As the others seemingly prepare to leave the site, Jesper finds himself led by his curiosity. “What if it's enough…?” He pulls his mentor’s scarf from his belongings, then tears a small portion of material from it. Jes makes his way up the altar and once there, he offers the scrap of silk. With his dagger, Jes makes a small cut in his hand and presses the wound down on his sacrifice. Jesper then waits with anticipation.

If the Hand comes back to life, he asks, “Where will I find my parents?”

The scrap of scarf begins to burn with wicked green flames and the remainder of the scarf around Jesper's neck begins to follow suit. Jesper has no choice but to quickly yank it off. The green flames consume the scarf in its entirety in a short-lived towering column of green fire. The green lights flare up all over the site once again and the skulls hover in place glowing until all but one comes to rest. After a moment, disembodied voices seem to emanate from the very earth under Jesper's feet, from the air around his pointed ears.

Marcus Sternclaw, Tesska the necrovoch summons you from beyond.
What in the black and silver? Who summons me? Was it not enough that I swung at the end of a rope twenty years too soon?
Silence! Where will Jesper Brambleborn find his parents, Sternclaw? Do not repeat the lie you told him and thereby dishonor the sacrificial rite!
The last I saw them was at Port Periwinkle. His father, anyway. Daenara was buried in the Fallwood after being taken by an infection. Only The Bone Grey or Queen Arabeth might possess the arcane wisdom to find Darius. After losing Daenara, he lost his thirst for thieving, and wanted instead to see the world so he could tell Daenara about it in the next life. He took a ship from the Port never to be seen in the Old Kingdom again.

The eerie green light fades away, the skulls settle in their recesses, and Jesper's head is filled with even more questions.

Pip hops off the wagon and quickly makes his way to Jesper. "Are you alright?" He inquires with concern while moving to inspect where Jesper's scarf landed when discarded. He only offered a scrap, but the Hand took the whole thing... It might be more dangerous than I initially thought. And if that truly is the spirit of someone Jespur knew, I may need to examine some of my assumptions about the world...

Chemistry: 1d100: [24] = 24 /59% (Inspect the ashes of Jesper's scarf, if there are any.)
Chemistry: Analytical: 1d100: [96] = 96 /49% (Inspect the ashes of Jesper's scarf, if there are any.)

Once back at the carts Pip will ask Jesper "Was that really the person you knew?"

Birger climbs into his drivers seat and awaits for the group to be ready to leave. "So where are we dropping you off at in Kingsalter?" Birger asks his wounded passenger. Birger says before clicking his tongue and giving the reigns a shake to let Kiri know it's time to move. "Can't say this is how I expected my walkabout to start, but it certainly is interesting." Birger says to no one in particular. Talking skulls are certainly not normal. Birger thinks grimly.

"One of the elders in my village often says that 'interesting is what you get when you don't get what you want.'" Pip offers. "In this case, I would have to agree. More questions were raised than answered."

[Irok]

Perception: 8% / 1d100: [69] = 69
JIC: 1d20: [6] = 6 / 1d100: [52] = 52
Conditions:

A mutant with Telepathic Listening can "hear" what a person is thinking. This is done by focusing on one person and picking up on his or her surface thoughts.

The bear watches Pip with no particular threat in his gaze, but rather a kind of firm doubtfulness set on his furry face. He imagines all the Orthodox folk would be comfortable in their homes right about now, with their hands where they belonged; attached to wrists.

"That has no correlation... err, direct connection." Pip tries to keep his speech simple for Irok's sake. What might help me illustrate my point? Hmm... I see him carving all the time. "Think of it like this. If someone attacked you just for carving a piece of wood for fun, is it your fault for carving the wood? Is carving bad? No too both, the fault is theirs for attacking you."

The bear thinks a long moment over the flurry of words, fishing deep within for his thoughts on them. He gets a nibble. FOLK GREEDY. FOLK BAD. He points to Harold's wounded arm. HURT FOR POWER.

He eyeballs the skulls about them. HURT FOR TALKY HEADS. I ROK NOT LIKE.

Looking meaningfully at Irok, Pip thinks. You can listen to thoughts can't you.

SMART THINK LOUD. ROK NOT DEAF. SOME FOLK GOOD TO TALK. SOME GOOD TO LISTEN. ROK LISTEN.

He examines the skulls more closely in the green light, trying to judge whether the skulls could be forcibly removed from their places in each enormous finger.

Indeed, the skulls, when not glowing green and floating in place look to simply be resting inside the recesses of each of their respective stone fingers.

Thoughts of all the hurt folk would suffer from greedy know-it-alls seeking answers worry the bear greatly. Irok examines the skulls closely and asks his clever new friend of question. TAKE SKULLS? STOP GREEDY CHOPPINGS?

As the others seemingly prepare to leave the site, Jesper finds himself led by his curiosity. “What if it's enough…?” He pulls his mentor’s scarf from his belongings, then tears a small portion of material from it. Jes makes his way up the altar and once there, he offers the scrap of silk. With his dagger, Jes makes a small cut in his hand and presses the wound down on his sacrifice. Jesper then waits with anticipation.

If the Hand comes back to life, he asks, “Where will I find my parents?”

The scrap of scarf begins to burn with wicked green flames and the remainder of the scarf around Jesper's neck begins to follow suit. Jesper has no choice but to quickly yank it off. The green flames consume the scarf in its entirety in a short-lived towering column of green fire. The green lights flare up all over the site once again and the skulls hover in place glowing until all but one comes to rest. After a moment, disembodied voices seem to emanate from the very earth under Jesper's feet, from the air around his pointed ears.

Talky talk blah blah

Marcus Sternclaw, Tesska the necrovoch summons you from beyond.
What in the black and silver? Who summons me? Was it not enough that I swung at the end of a rope twenty years too soon?
Silence! Where will Jesper Brambleborn find his parents, Sternclaw? Do not repeat the lie you told him and thereby dishonor the sacrificial rite!
The last I saw them was at Port Periwinkle. His father, anyway. Daenara was buried in the Fallwood after being taken by an infection. Only The Bone Grey or Queen Arabeth might possess the arcane wisdom to find Darius. After losing Daenara, he lost his thirst for thieving, and wanted instead to see the world so he could tell Daenara about it in the next life. He took a ship from the Port never to be seen in the Old Kingdom again.

The eerie green light fades away, the skulls settle in their recesses, and Jesper's head is filled with even more questions.

Irok's heart gives a grinding thud in his chest; and he realises that folk might get to keep their hands after all. TALKY SKULL NOT TAKE HAND? While everyone discusses things, the bear considers his options; whether to bury the place with rocks or not?

[Pip]

((rolls held))

"That has no correlation... err, direct connection." Pip tries to keep his speech simple for Irok's sake. What might help me illustrate my point? Hmm... I see him carving all the time. "Think of it like this. If someone attacked you just for carving a piece of wood for fun, is it your fault for carving the wood? Is carving bad? No too both, the fault is theirs for attacking you."

The bear thinks a long moment over the flurry of words, fishing deep within for his thoughts on them. He gets a nibble. FOLK GREEDY. FOLK BAD. He points to Harold's wounded arm. HURT FOR POWER.

He eyeballs the skulls about them. HURT FOR TALKY HEADS. I ROK NOT LIKE.

Pip nods. "Basically, yes. There are always those that are willing to hurt others to get what they want. But that does not immediately make what they use or seek bad. The Orthodox often refuse to see this nuance."

Indeed, the skulls, when not glowing green and floating in place look to simply be resting inside the recesses of each of their respective stone fingers.

Thoughts of all the hurt folk would suffer from greedy know-it-alls seeking answers worry the bear greatly. Irok examines the skulls closely and asks his clever new friend of question. TAKE SKULLS? STOP GREEDY CHOPPINGS?

"That may not be wise" Pip cations. "We don't know if they might be bobby trapped." Or what irreparable damage it may cause to the Hand. I wonder if some of my contacts could keep an eye on the Hand to watch out for more bad actors. I would just have to find them first.

[Jesper]

Perception: 1d100: [28] = 28 / 45% (+10% if Danger Sense is active, -15% to anything within 60' in front of Jesper)
JIC: 1d20: [15] = 15 / 1d100: [63] = 63
Conditions: Danger Sense
Skills:

Hand of Vanth

The moment that the scrap of Marcus’ scarf goes up in flames, Jesper remembers to breathe. He takes in a sharp breath at the pain caused by the mysterious green flames and jumps to action when the rest of the scarf begins to burn as well. Jes snatches it away from his neck and watches it vanish. His heart sinks… It was all I had left!

Tears sting his eyes as he looks up to witness the skulls coming to life once again. Jesper’s ears stand at attention at the sound of Tesska’s voice. Then he hears the one voice he never would have thought to hear again. “Marcus?” Jes calls out, not sure if he can trust the skulls or his ears. He looks all around him, but there is no sign of the old badger thief. “You lied?” Jesper cries with confusion. He feels wounded. “You knew my parents?”

Before Jesper knows it, the green fire fades and the voices are gone. He’s left with names and unanswered questions. Darius…Daenara… He repeats his parents' names over and over again, vowing to himself to never forget them. The Bone Grey…Queen Arabeth…? Jesper stands next to the altar, trying to make sense of it all. He doesn’t even hear Pip come up until he speaks.

"Are you alright?" He inquires with concern while moving to inspect where Jesper's scarf landed when discarded.

“I…yes. Yes, I’ll be fine,” Jesper replies, coming back to reality. He sighs heavily and begins to make his way back to the cart to join the rest of the party.

Once back at the carts Pip will ask Jesper "Was that really the person you knew?"

“I don’t know,” Jes answers honestly. “Marcus was my mentor, my father. He told me that he found me abandoned.” He looks to Kaster. “Do you think your father knew mine?” His eyes go back to Pip and then to Birger, believing them to be well-traveled. “What is the Bone Grey? Queen Arabeth?” he asks them.

[Irok]

((Rolls carried))

Seeing Jesper upset clearly has an impact on Irok. He shuffles on his feet fishing for words in his head, but fails to get a bite. He gently pats his rabbit friend on the head, if nothing else to remind him he isn't alone. Without thinking, he thinks, ROK SAD FOR JESPER.

"That has no correlation... err, direct connection." Pip tries to keep his speech simple for Irok's sake. What might help me illustrate my point? Hmm... I see him carving all the time. "Think of it like this. If someone attacked you just for carving a piece of wood for fun, is it your fault for carving the wood? Is carving bad? No too both, the fault is theirs for attacking you."

The bear thinks a long moment over the flurry of words, fishing deep within for his thoughts on them. He gets a nibble. FOLK GREEDY. FOLK BAD. He points to Harold's wounded arm. HURT FOR POWER.

He eyeballs the skulls about them. HURT FOR TALKY HEADS. I ROK NOT LIKE.

Pip nods. "Basically, yes. There are always those that are willing to hurt others to get what they want. But that does not immediately make what they use or seek bad. The Orthodox often refuse to see this nuance."

ROK CRUSH HURTY FOLK. He gives Pip a hard look. SKULLS... TEMPT FOLK TO HURT. ROK NOT LIKE.

Indeed, the skulls, when not glowing green and floating in place look to simply be resting inside the recesses of each of their respective stone fingers.

Thoughts of all the hurt folk would suffer from greedy know-it-alls seeking answers worry the bear greatly. Irok examines the skulls closely and asks his clever new friend of question. TAKE SKULLS? STOP GREEDY CHOPPINGS?

"That may not be wise" Pip cations. "We don't know if they might be bobby trapped." Or what irreparable damage it may cause to the Hand. I wonder if some of my contacts could keep an eye on the Hand to watch out for more bad actors. I would just have to find them first.

WHO BOBBY? The bear looks at the skulls carefully for Pip has given him an idea. HMM DAMAGE... He flexes a mighty fist in thought.

[Quetzalcoatl]

Percep: 1d100: [72] = 72 / 15%
JIC: 1d100: [61] = 61 / 1d20: [17] = 17

Talkies: 1d100: [19] = 19 / 44%

Quetzal continues to be confused about what's going on. A scarf for information seems like a good trade. And Irok is freaking out. Why are we not on the road, saving our alpha rescue bird?

He nods at Pip, "Power... issss power." And then he nods again for emphasis.

After, he settles into the cart behind Harold, making sure the raven can see his head and beak clear, laying out so he's not a threat. "Guaaaard."

Assuming they begin the actual journey, he tries to make Harold feel important by making small talk with him during their long ride.

[Augur]

Conditions:
Date/Time: July 5th, 20th Year of Longjaw/Evening
Location: Fallwood
Environment: Light Forest, Night
Modifiers: No visual modifiers due to strange illumination

"So where are we dropping you off at in Kingsalter?" Birger asks his wounded passenger [Harold]. Birger says before clicking his tongue and giving the reigns a shake to let Kiri know it's time to move. "Can't say this is how I expected my walkabout to start, but it certainly is interesting."

"I hope that is the case, but better safe than sorry no?" Pip asks with a raised eyebrow.

Pip hops off the wagon and quickly makes his way to Jesper. "Are you alright?" He inquires with concern while moving to inspect where Jesper's scarf landed when discarded.

There isn't even a light scorch mark on the surface of the altar. The scarf apparently burned without heat. Jesper, in keeping with this incredulous discovery, looks disturbed, but completely unharmed.

Harold catches sight of all that has transpired and caws/shrieks loudly in anguish and rage. "A stupid article of clothing will suffice and they took my bloody hand! The imbeciles! The brigands!"

Irok examines the skulls closely and asks his clever new friend a question.

The skulls are resistant to examination as, despite his tremendous strength, they will no more budge from their places simply resting in the rock recesses than will the gargantuan stone fingers themselves.

After, he settles into the cart behind Harold, making sure the raven can see his head and beak clear, laying out so he's not a threat. "Guaaaard."

Harold turns around and nods once at Quetzal. "I'm honored, cousin Hummer. I don't believe I've ever seen a folk of your kind your size before. I'm sure you will strike terror into the hearts of any would-be assailant."

---

Conditions:
Date/Time: July 11th, 20th Year of Longjaw/Evening
Location: Kingsalter
Environment: Urban, Day
Modifiers: No visual modifiers due to strange illumination

After six days of travel mostly along the King’s Road, the motley crew find themselves once again back in Kingsalter. The trip along the King's Road was uneventful, but ate further into the group's supplies as thirst and hunger wait for no folk. Harold happily joins you in your return to the Adventurers' Guild Hall, where he demonstrates to the Guild attendant on duty that he's alive, and lays all good graces on those of you assembled for rescuing him from certain death. The Guild attendant sticks to the letter of the bounty and doles out two thousand bucks in six wads, but Harold protests and places a debt upon himself to the tune of another four hundred bucks so that the lot of you are further recompensed. Harold bows and attempts to add a flourish to thank you ceremoniously, but he's still weak from the blood loss and so nearly falls before catching himself on a stool. "My dear adventurers, I wish you better luck than I have, and would like to assure you that my misfortune, and our travels have jogged some wisdom into my bird's brain, and I'll not be taking up any more such fancies as palmistry. I've had quite enough of magic real and imagined." He pats you each on the shoulder amiably with his one good hand as he makes his way away from the Guild hall and towards his home.

You're back once more in the Kingsalter, the heart of the Old Kingdom. The Adventurers' Guild Hall surrounds you. You've been given a tantalizing but disturbing look into the mysteries that await beyond the safety of the city. What shall you do with yourselves now that the world is no longer quite as you once assumed it to be?

OOC Comments

Please see to it that you update your equipment as follows:
+400 bucks each
-11 days food/rations each

Quetzal should have 6 days of healing as well. Please let me know how much that is in the Discord channel & I'll update the Butcher's Bill.

You can enjoy an interlude to cover the return trip. If you wish to, you may also have another interlude in Kingsalter at the cost of 50 bucks each for expenses.

What are your intentions?

Butcher's Bill

Birger:
Irok: Leather armor destroyed, -12 S.D.C.
Kaster:
Jesper: Scarf destroyed
Pip:
Quetzalcoatl: -32 S.D.C.

[Pip]

Perception: 1d100: [55] = 55 /44% (+10% if Danger Sense is active, +10% when in darkness, +5% to perceiving any tactile characteristics)
Just in Case: 1d20: [17] = 17 ; 1d100: [75] = 75
Conditions: Danger Sense

At The Hand of Vanth

There isn't even a light scorch mark on the surface of the altar. The scarf apparently burned without heat. Jesper, in keeping with this incredulous discovery, looks disturbed, but completely unharmed.

That, should not be possible. Everything that burns leaves a residue. And I doubt the scarf had any bluestone in it, much less enough to burn green... Pip thinks, his unease with the structure rising.

Harold catches sight of all that has transpired and caws/shrieks loudly in anguish and rage. "A stupid article of clothing will suffice and they took my bloody hand! The imbeciles! The brigands!"

The claim was that it must be something of value. It seems likely that that scarf was of value to Jesper. But how would the Hand know... He muses worriedly.

ROK CRUSH HURTY FOLK. He gives Pip a hard look. SKULLS... TEMPT FOLK TO HURT. ROK NOT LIKE.

"But so can money, or weapons, or strength such as yours." Pip counters. "I do not like it either, but it is impossible to remove everything that temps Folk to harm others." He shakes his head, then glances at the Hand. "At this point, if Clement had not escaped, I would be seriously considering trying to camouflage it. But he knows where it is. So that would be fruitless."

WHO BOBBY? The bear looks at the skulls carefully for Pip has given him an idea. HMM DAMAGE... He flexes a mighty fist in thought.

"Boobytraped!" Pip exclaimed in alarm, fearful of either the Bear or the Hand coming to harm from his slip of the tongue. "Considering what we have seen it do it is entirely likely that it may be able to harm those that try to damage it."

The skulls are resistant to examination as, despite his tremendous strength, they will no more budge from their places simply resting in the rock recesses than will the gargantuan stone fingers themselves.

Or it is completely implacable. He sighs with relief.

“I don’t know,” Jes answers honestly. “Marcus was my mentor, my father. He told me that he found me abandoned.” He looks to Kaster. “Do you think your father knew mine?” His eyes go back to Pip and then to Birger, believing them to be well-traveled. “What is the Bone Grey? Queen Arabeth?” he asks them.

Pip thinks to himself for a moment. Whether that really was the spirit of a dead man or the Hand gained the knowledge some other way, both prospects are worrying. If was it said was even true.

When Jesper asks about the things the Hand mentioned Pip pulls out his journal where he records local legends and other things of interest. "Queen Arabeth sounds familiar. Let's see." He flips through the few filled pages until he finds what he is looking for. "According to legend Queen Arabeth was the last inhabitant of Baroncliffe Castle. I have never heard of The Bone Gray though."

---

On the Road

While on the road Pip makes sure his gear is in order, as well as anyone else's that lets him. And makes new arrows to replace the ones he and Birger lost. (Maintenance Interlude)

---

At Kingsalter

You're back once more in the Kingsalter, the heart of the Old Kingdom. The Adventurers' Guild Hall surrounds you. You've been given a tantalizing but disturbing look into the mysteries that await beyond the safety of the city. What shall you do with yourselves now that the world is no longer quite as you once assumed it to be?

"So what are everyone's plans?" Pip asks the group. "Personally, I want to see what other mysteries and folklore there are around here. Hopefully, none are as unnerving as the last one. But in either case doing that alone has the potential to be dangerous, regardless of my intellect." He comments with a shrug. "You Folk seem like a decent sort. So I can stick around. I am sure I will be useful." He finishes with a smirk.

[Irok]

Perception: 8% / 1d100: [88] = 88
JIC: 1d20: [9] = 9 / 1d100: [47] = 47
Conditions: Whittling

On The Road

On the road Irok resumes his whittling on breaks. WHITTLE WHITTLE The bear sounds pleased and he scrapes and cuts away with surprisingly delicate moves. LITTLE BY LITTLE He decides the only way to get around the crack in his wood is to cut deeper and change his idea a little. WOOD KNOWS SHAPE. ROCK FIND IT.

After recent events, the problems of split wood grain didn't seem to trouble him so much anymore. Unless prompted otherwise, the bear works away at his lump of wood until done.

Day 1: Sculpting & Whittling (45%): 1d100: [61] = 61 (FAIL)
Day 2: Sculpting & Whittling (45%): 1d100: [53] = 53 (FAIL)
Day 3: Sculpting & Whittling (45%): 1d100: [34] = 34 (SUCCESS)

Once finished, Irok just finds another lump of wood and commences a new project. These seem to go much more smoothly as Irok has learned some small lesson in the subtleties of shaping wood.

Day 4: Sculpting & Whittling (45%): 1d100: [32] = 32 (SUCCESS)
Day 5: Sculpting & Whittling (45%): 1d100: [41] = 41 (SUCCESS)
Day 6: Sculpting & Whittling (45%): 1d100: [39] = 39 (SUCCESS)

Kingsalter

On arrival to Kingsalter Irok gently interrupts proceedings with a raised paw. He reaches into his pack and retrieves a few momentos he'd been busy whittling.

He pulls out a whittled model of one of the glowing skulls they'd witnessed. PENDAT THE PINKY the bear explains. He hands it to Pip. ANSWER QUESTIONS. The hulking bear pats Pip on the head. GIFT.

For Jesper he pulls out a small model of their friend Thistle. ROK FIND THISTLE. This one he'd been working on ever since they left Kingsalter, and has clearly been a labor of love. KEEP THISTLE SAFE.

For Harold he offers a scale model of his missing hand. PROS THET he winces, he knew this word but couldn't fish it out. FORGET WORD he apologises. ROK TRY HELP Like the others, the hand has also received a professional level of attention to detail.

The bear shuffles on his feet uncertainly, hoping he did a good enough job of it.

[Birger]

Perception: 1d100: [89] = 89 /69%
Just in Case: 1d20: [1] = 1 ; 1d100: [5] = 5
Conditions:

Can see double the usual distance and detail of normal human vision.

,

Gives the character an increased chance (+10% skill bonus) to perform delicate actions and skills like picking locks and sleight of hand (palming, etc.). Characters can also recognize very slight differences in texture.

,

Allows the character to detect very faint scent traces. Tracking by smell (as a bloodhound) is possible at 59%+5% per level. Characters can also recognize the distinct smells of individuals and can detect when people experience extremes of emotions (69% +2% per level of experience). This is occasionally used as a lie-detector, but is rather unreliable.

Birger is rather quiet on the trip back to Kingsalter. Birger spends a good deal of the trip lost in his thoughts as Kiri can basically navigate a road once the group is back on it. I had plans right? Or did I just think I had plans..? Is the reoccurring thought running past his mind. His dreams are confusing jumbles of the last few days, with glowing green fire wreathing everything, even the seemingly normal tasks in the dream. It leaves Birger a little unsettled. Is magic real? Would that mean ghosts and monsters are real too? Birger thinks one day, while dining upon some of his food stores. Gonna need to refill those too, especially with Irok around, he'll eat me out of home if given half a chance. Birger thinks with a half amused chuckle. Wonder what trouble we'll get into next. Not that I wan to get into trouble, but these folk seem to be magnets for it.

Once Kingsalter is in sight, Birger really talks for the first time in a few days. "Harold, we're we dropping you off?" Birger says as he guides the cart to the gates of the town. Bigger than Port Periwinkle for sure. Birger thinks as he looks at the city proper. "Also where are we going after Harold's been dropped off, do you all have a place or should I find an inn for the meanwhile?" Birger asks the group at large.

Birger follows the directions to the adventurer's hall, and parks his wagon, following the others inside.

"My dear adventurers, I wish you better luck than I have, and would like to assure you that my misfortune, and our travels have jogged some wisdom into my bird's brain, and I'll not be taking up any more such fancies as palmistry. I've had quite enough of magic real and imagined." He pats you each on the shoulder amiably with his one good hand as he makes his way away from the Guild hall and towards his home.

Birger nods. "Well Harold, it's been an odd pleasure. I wish you fair days ahead." Birger says before watching the crow leave.

"So what are everyone's plans?" Pip asks the group. "Personally, I want to see what other mysteries and folklore there are around here. Hopefully, none are as unnerving as the last one. But in either case doing that alone has the potential to be dangerous, regardless of my intellect." He comments with a shrug. "You Folk seem like a decent sort. So I can stick around. I am sure I will be useful." He finishes with a smirk.

Birger shrugs. "Don't know to be fair, I'm in the same boat as you really." Birger replies to Pip.

[Kaster]

Percep: 35%: 1d100: [83] = 83
JIC: 1d20: [20] = 20 1d100: [18] = 18


Kicking himself a bit for not abandoning the cart and wagon before the fight was over, Kaster maintains his position as tender, standing idly by as the other finish up at the Hand of Vanth.

He looks to Kaster. “Do you think your father knew mine?”

When Jesper asks him a question, Kaster comes out of his stupor and says with a shake of his head, "I don't think so. I've heard him speak many times about Marcus. Usually when he's been in his cups telling stories about when we lived on the road. I've never heard him say anything about a Darius or a Daenara. Are those your parents names?"


Kaster spends his time on the road recounting his father's stories, hoping that something in them will help him out, but after tell the tales he doesn't think there was anything worthwhile in them. Except a few good laughs for the group.


Back at the Adventurer's Guild Hall, Kaster says to Harold, "I'd like to wish you a poetic good bye but I can come up with anything. So I will just say, I hope life causes you no more pain than you have already suffered. Keep you head up and know that the future is a mystery to all of us." He claps the bird on the back in turn as Harold leaves for home.

With the others gathered and some money in hand, Kaster says, "Being back here in Kingsalter is a bit odd. I was meaning to be on the road for some time traveling about and trading goods. I guess we can still do that as we look about the country. Between my cart and Birger's wagon we can get a respectable amount of trade goods and head for the small villages or some such as we go about inspecting these other more interesting places. The Bone Grey, Queen Arabeth and this Baroncliffe Castle."

Kaster looks concideringly at the others as he pulls out his tobacco pouch and pipe and begins to pack the thing, ready for a good smoke while he contemplates his next move.

[Jesper]

Perception: 1d100: [64] = 64 / 45% (+10% if Danger Sense is active, -15% to anything within 60' in front of Jesper)
JIC: 1d20: [20] = 20 / 1d100: [55] = 55
Conditions: Danger Sense
Skills:
Prowl: 1d100: [39] = 39 / 30% (to avoid being caught breaking into the Braebucks’ kitchen; if he’s caught, he’ll use Invisible Haze to help him get out)


Hand of Vanth

Harold catches sight of all that has transpired and caws/shrieks loudly in anguish and rage. "A stupid article of clothing will suffice and they took my bloody hand! The imbeciles! The brigands!"

“It wasn’t a stupid article of clothing,” Jesper practically growls at the bird. “You have no idea what I sacrificed.” Although Jesper kept both of his hands, and livelihood, he can’t help mourning the loss of the one thing he had kept from his past. I don’t understand why you’d lie, Marcus. Why didn’t you tell me about my parents? You were more than just my mentor…

On the King’s Road

Jesper keeps his distance and says very little to Harold as they make their way back to the city. He does speak to the others when they approach him, but only to answer the most basic of questions asked of him. For the most part, the normally affable rabbit seems lost in his thoughts. From time to time, his fingers scratch at his neck or the scar cut into his ear.

He looks to Kaster. “Do you think your father knew mine?”

When Jesper asks him a question, Kaster comes out of his stupor and says with a shake of his head, "I don't think so. I've heard him speak many times about Marcus. Usually when he's been in his cups telling stories about when we lived on the road. I've never heard him say anything about a Darius or a Daenara. Are those your parents names?"

“That is what Marcus’ ghost told me,” Jes reveals. “I don’t understand why he kept that from me.”

When Pip tells Jesper about Queen Arabeth and Baroncliffe Castle, he commits the name to his memory.

Kingsalter

After receiving their reward at the Adventurer’s Hall, Jesper shoves his share of the bucks into his tunic. He thanks Harold for the business and hopes to never see the Palmist again. When Jesper turns away, he runs into Irok…

For Jesper he pulls out a small model of their friend Thistle. ROK FIND THISTLE. This one he'd been working on ever since they left Kingsalter, and has clearly been a labor of love. KEEP THISTLE SAFE.

Jesper reaches out for the carving Irok offers to him. “You even armed him with Saffron,” he says, amazed at the bear’s skill. “Thank you, Irok.” Jes looks up at him and smiles for the first time in days.

As the others discuss their future plans, Jesper listens and chimes in. “I haven’t really thought of what to do next,” he admits. “I somehow keep finding my way back into the city.” When Kaster mentions Baroncliffe, Jes’ ears perk up. “Where is the castle? I’d like to go there too.”

Kingsalter Interlude

One night when Jesper is able to slip away on his own, he makes his way to the Braebuck’s residence. Confident that his foster parents are asleep, he breaks in through a loose window in the kitchen. He carefully retrieves 100 bucks from his tunic and leaves it behind on the wooden table. Assuming his movements go undetected, Jes then slips back out through the window.

[Pip]

((rolls held))

On arrival to Kingsalter Irok gently interrupts proceedings with a raised paw. He reaches into his pack and retrieves a few momentos he'd been busy whittling.

He pulls out a whittled model of one of the glowing skulls they'd witnessed. PENDAT THE PINKY the bear explains. He hands it to Pip. ANSWER QUESTIONS. The hulking bear pats Pip on the head. GIFT.

For Jesper he pulls out a small model of their friend Thistle. ROK FIND THISTLE. This one he'd been working on ever since they left Kingsalter, and has clearly been a labor of love. KEEP THISTLE SAFE.

For Harold he offers a scale model of his missing hand. PROS THET he winces, he knew this word but couldn't fish it out. FORGET WORD he apologises. ROK TRY HELP Like the others, the hand has also received a professional level of attention to detail.

The bear shuffles on his feet uncertainly, hoping he did a good enough job of it.

Jesper reaches out for the carving Irok offers to him. “You even armed him with Saffron,” he says, amazed at the bear’s skill. “Thank you, Irok.” Jes looks up at him and smiles for the first time in days.

"The word you were looking for is 'prosthesis'. But yes, these are quite well made." Pip agrees. "Thank you." And Jesper's seems to have lifted his spirits some. "The name Thistle has been mentioned before, is he a friend of yours?" He asks, looking between the Bear and the Rabbit.

With the others gathered and some money in hand, Kaster says, "Being back here in Kingsalter is a bit odd. I was meaning to be on the road for some time traveling about and trading goods. I guess we can still do that as we look about the country. Between my cart and Birger's wagon we can get a respectable amount of trade goods and head for the small villages or some such as we go about inspecting these other more interesting places. The Bone Grey, Queen Arabeth and this Baroncliffe Castle."

Kaster looks concideringly at the others as he pulls out his tobacco pouch and pipe and begins to pack the thing, ready for a good smoke while he contemplates his next move.

As the others discuss their future plans, Jesper listens and chimes in. “I haven’t really thought of what to do next,” he admits. “I somehow keep finding my way back into the city.” When Kaster mentions Baroncliffe, Jes’ ears perk up. “Where is the castle? I’d like to go there too.”

"North along the coast from Port Periwinkle if I recall." Pip answers. "And a trade endeavor is not the worst idea." I have enough funds for now, but more is always useful. "Though if we are going to be looking into the things mentioned by the Hand we might as well inquire about them here before we leave." He proposes. Information is usually centralized in capitals, that is why I was on my way here to start with.

If the others agree, Pip will spend some time looking into local legends and folklore. Especially The Bone Grey, Queen Arabeth, and Baroncliffe Castle. But anything else of interest too. Everything he finds he will record in his notebook. (Research Interlude)