Meta Ruins of Myvolia

DM - The Blunt Nail Tavern - Parlone
Stories, Rock and Roll, and Larceny

The noise in the Blunt Nail Tavern starts to steadily rise as time ticks away. More and more merchants enter demanding service and getting deep into their cups. You must lean in closer to be heard and hear the words of the grizzled old man.

Cora - parlone

Once Cora finds wine cellar door. she begins to case the tavern making sure no one is watch the enterance to close as to notice as she slips in. This isn’t her first time stealing from a tavern.
She begins to think of her parents and the first time she stole from a tavern. He father told her to go and get her a bottle of wine. They were going to celebrate the completion of the her first Four Leaf Clover heist. She had no money so she like any good thief she walked into the the crowded tavern. Right to the wine cellar doors and down into the cellar and grabbed 2 bottle of their best wine.
Unfortunately she forgot to check to see if anyone was watching. So as she start up the stairs to find the bartender and 2 bouncers were wait for her to come out.

Can I help you?

The Bartender yells. This scared Cora she wasn’t expecting anyone to have seen her. She froze not sure of what to do next.

Who are you?

The bartender yells at Cora. This sparked Cora, instantly she replies

Yes!! Do you realize you have been sold watered down wine?

The bartender replies.

I bought that from my friend Ulgorf I have been buying from him for years now I don’t believe he would rip me off.

Cora thinks to herself “can this get any easier”

I know Ulgorf has sent me to let you know that he bought his last batch from a travelling merchant and that every bottle that was sold to him would be return in a couple days free of charge.

The bartender replies,

I have a tavern to run here I can’t sell watered down wine here. You tell Ulgorf I expect to see the bottle here by tomorrow morning or I am going to have the city guards after him

Cora jesters the bartender to lend her his ear,

Now sir you know Ulgorf is a man of his word and when he says he will have you the replacement bottle in a couple of day. He will have the bottles for you. He is right now riding to the next city to get them and wont be back by tomorrow. He told me to apologize for the inconvenience and say that no one should notice the difference.

The bartender says,

You might be right. I mean they haven’t said anything yet. Thank you umm What did you say your name was.

Just then some yells,


The two bouncers and the bartender run off to break the fight up and Cora quickly slip out the backdoor. Where her mother and father were waiting patiently for her. Her father says,

And what have we learned from this lesson?


Always pay attention to your surroundings never assume the things are as easy as they seem.

Cora smiles as she continues to watch the tavern for possible threats to her plan. Once she is sure no one is watch she slips down into the cellar.

Spot: 1d20+6

Search: 1d20+5

Matrim -- Mosh pit?

The tales told around the table with this group of adventurers whom I had accepted as friends and valuable allies churned something inside of me. I was intrigued by the old man. My companions seemed to share the same sentiment.

Which is the best course of direction if we are indeed heading out on the morrow?

I yearn to catch the trail of those beasts again. And if they are heading back to their homeland in such numbers, there must be a reason why.

Leaning back in his chair and raising his ale in appreciation for the friendships and good music, Matrim was excited to see how the morning would unfold.

Sebastian -Rocking Out at The Nail
Rocking Out

Roll: 1d20 +12
12(d20) +12 =24

for those about to walk(north)… FIRE! We salute you…

Finishing his song, Sebastian bowed with a flourish. Jumping down from the table he didn’t remember climbing onto, he plopped down next to T’Alen and leaned closer to his countryman…

Has grandpapa reavealed any more about the journey we intend to take?

He asked in their native Thraycian.

I am eager to begin, but the perils we will soon face will likely make the travels of our past seem like a day at the Kings spa.

T 'Alen - still at the table

T ’Alen pauses drinking as a thought passes through his mind

Could this old timer know of the fabled city, maybe he could provide clues to its where abouts or maybe know someone who does

He Leans in closer to the old man with an eager look in his eyes

Terrence - And so it begins
Wants more......

Terrence leans as he take a sip of his wine. He’s eager to hear more from the old man.
Thoughts of this old adventurer kicking ogre ass back in his youth churns up a fire inside. Who is this old man? What has he seen? What does he know? Where is his house? What treasures lie within it?
(evil grin)

Time to apply my skills, he thinks to himself and when able he quizzes the old man and scans him closely looking for anything out of the ordinary

Gather Information:
Roll: d20+7
9 = 2[d20]+7

Roll: d20+8
25 = 17[d20]+8

Cora - parlone
Cora gets into some mischief

Cora sit quietly listens to the old man tell of who he is and why he knows so much about us. She begins to look for the wine cellar.

If I going to be on a long adventure I’m going to need some wine to drink. LOTS of wine.

She say to herself as gets up to find the wine cellar.

Lornaal - Not enough to drink for this

Lornaal found the warmth and shelter of the tavern to be a welcome respite from the winds shrieking in off of the bay. The promise of ale did not hurt either.

While none of his companions would find Port Parlone to be anything more than a dreary backwater, to one who grew up in the shadows of the Spinereach it was as cosmopolitan a town as one was likely to encounter. The size of the southern ships impressed Lornaal, as they always did. The sounds of the slippery southern tongues were like worms in his ears.

The drab colours that made it difficult to know where the stoney shore ended and the grey surf began were unlike those of home. The deep, almost encompassing greens of the pine forests echoed in Lornaal’s mind. He pictured the high meadows in spring, bedecked with glorious blankets of flowers, then the hush that covered the land after a fresh snow-fall. There was a raw beauty to the Spine Gulch and its absence filled Lornaal’s heart.

Seated at the table with his companions, he turned his attention to the pressing need for beer. The battle with the mantacore had been trying and the long march from the Winter Woods had been taxing, even to a man with his size and vigour.

As the day began to slip away and Lornaal set his mind on getting drunk, he was drawn to the greybeard and his intimate talk of the Northreach. To be honest, he had hardly heard a word that his companions had spoken, or the telling and re-telling of their stories and exploits. Somehow, though, this grizzled man seemed to speak directly to Lornaal, making his heart sick again, in a strange and infuriating way.

When the man suddenly turns his attention to Lornaal and switches to the tongue of his people, he stiffened. He recognized the words as those that lived in his own heart. There was a warning there, or perhaps a recognition.

After that, however, the man’s words and their meaning were utterly lost on Lornaal. Instead, his mind soared to the north. Like a hawk he saw the foreboding entrance to the Boneshatter pass, still covered in snow, and the lost warriors of his tribe picking their way towards Lodd on their planned raid.

Suddenly restless, his great thirst made even more powerful by these ruminations, Lornall raises his voice in a tone often used to speak through the shrieking winds of a mountain pass,

Ale. And keep them coming.

Sebastian - Still at the table
Ethusiasm growing

Sebastian picks up his banjo and begins to pluck… looking at T’Alen he says

Sacre bleu Wizard, we carry enough arms to raze this town twice over. What else could we be?

Catching the eye of the serving wench Alma is ogling, and indicating the old man, he shouts:

Madamoiselle! A drink for our new friend! Also mon frere with the big sword would like a word with you…

Grinning he picks up the pace on his banjo and begins to sing…

In the morn we march on the great white north, on our way to cut down any horrors that spring forth, I and my fellows we are the eight, for any who oppose us death will not wait…


T 'Alen - At the table
Cautious and curious

T ’Alen takes a slow pull of his drink, and leans forward towards the old man

What do you know of the lands beyond the spine old one? Have you any maps, or writings of the area?

T ’Alen leans back in his chair a bit waiting for an answer

And how do you know what we are?


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