Arra smiled fiercely at the merchant as she passed, though given the fierce and alien nature of her features, it was hard to determine her intent. She was too slight and small to be properly intimidating, but too feral and unfamiliar looking to be comforting.

"Let us break our fast, and be on with it!"

She said, the eagerness in her voice clear, at the very least.

Alfie shrugs, "Or we can wait and eat better. You haven't tried my Dried Rations Soup, yet. or my Rehydrated Fruit Bits Surprise."

"Where is everyone?" Sakr asks, looking around the empty room with concern. "Wasn't this place full last night?"

Davor walks up to the innkeeper. "You servin' breakfast?"

The innkeeper shrugs. "Sure. But it'll be a while. I'm surprised you're not hightailing it out of here like everyone else."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:37, Sun 20 Nov 2022.

"We did plan.. Hightailing.. As you say, after breakfast. Why, what got people running off without a proper first meal of the day?".

"Oh, you haven't heard then," the innkeeper replies. "Several people were poisoned last night. It seems someone polluted one of the town wells. The priests of Tymora are unable to help those infected. The poison is resistant to all magical attempts to purge or analyze it, making it impossible for the priests to cure."

Alfie looks over, "Anyone try more mundane means, or did they go straight to magic?"

The innkeeper frowns at Alfred's question. "Of course. They've tried everything. But if you have some suggestions, I know the Tymorans are looking for help."

Davor looks at his companions. "You learn a bit about plants studyin' with a shaman. Never hurts to consult the spirits on these thing neither. I say we look into it."

He looks back at the innkeeper. "And I suppose we'll have ale with our breakfast then. Just to be safe."

"And let our prey gain a greater lead?"

Arra did not sound pleased, and might have even raised an objection, had it been her place. She was not here for her own pleasure though, as the stay in this hovel of an inn had demonstrated amply. She'd wanted the true magic, the old magic, and this place was the price she had paid, banished from the Feywild until her debts were paid.

Well then, time to start paying them.

"I've some small lore of the woods about me, and of the wilds. If you say we look, then look we shall."

Alfie looks thoughtful, "For long term poisonings, there will be some thing solid-ish dropped in. Something that will keep it poisoned. If they just poured in something liquid use will clean it out eventually. Find out what they used and I can probably work out an antitoxin. And we can pull it out, then drain the well for a bit."

"Let's eat and then head over to the temple to see what we can do to help out," Sakr says, sitting down at a table.

"Why do I have the feeling that Bruiser has something to do with this, too?"

Davor nods his agreement with Sakr. "The spirits are whispering the same thing to you I see." He looks back at the innkeeper. "Let's have breakfast then."

The innkeeper brings out some reheated stew from the previous day, along with some bread and ale, a while later. As the party waits and then eats, they see the merchant from earlier, as well as several other patrons, hurry out of the inn.

"The world is made up of many moving parts and chaos reigns supreme, it is more likely unrelated", Aeowin shrugged:"We should consider moving on, it'll give us a little more time to prepare at the fair rather than getting embroiled in local affairs that distract from our target, just a thought". He began to chow down. Aeowin was a quick eater. Eat it when you got it, was a rule of the streets and the mentality was hard to break even if coins lined his pouch.
"What are those spirits you keep mentioning?", Aeowin asked Davor when he finished.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:15, Thu 24 Nov 2022.

Davor leans forward and his eyes go wide as he stares at Aeowin. He waves his hands dramatically. "The spirits of the dead! They're all about us at every moment. If you quiet your mind you could hear 'em whispering to you too."

He relaxes and leans back. After a sip of ale, he continues. "If you want my advice though, you don't want to be able to hear 'em. Half of what they say is gibberish." He looks into the middle distance as though listening to someone who is not there. "No, of course not. EVERYTHIN' you say is nonsense."

Looking back at Aeowin and grinning, the half-orc continues: "I have the curse of bein' haunted by my own ancestors. Nothin' worse than your own family hoverin' around all the time tryin' to give you advice."

"Three for it, one opposed."

Though they were five, Arra didn't vote. It wasn't her place too.

"For once I'm glad I have no family", Aeowin replied Davor.
He began to hum, hoping it would stave off the dead.

Alfie grumbles, "Try hanging around some guy that's always talking to folks that aren't there."

After finishing their meal, the adventurers leave the Worried Wyvern for Tymora's temple in Belville. They immediately notice the quiet of the town. The merchant flat to the west is mainly empty, and even a few homes appear to have been abandoned.

A large tent has been erected in front of the temple. Robed priests move in and out of the front flap of the tent, bearing bowls of water or trays of food. As the party approaches, they see that the inside of the tent houses sixteen cots, each bearing a poison victim. The ailing townsfolk moan in pain or call feebly for water. The Tymorans help the sick the best they can, but they seem bitter and dismayed.

After a few moments, a Tymoran priestess suddenly notices the adventurers. Setting down a tray of bread, she approaches with purpose in her stride. She comes within a few steps of the party, stops, and raises her right hand. "Hail, and well met. What do you seek from the faithful of Tymora, goddess of luck?"

"We, um... We've actually come to see if there is any way we can be of assistance here," Sakr says to the priestess. "We heard that there has been a mass poisoning."

Aeowin wandered behind the rest of the group. He wasn't particularly interested in running from one disaster to another like an unpaid emergency service.
Shit happens, he thought to himself, there's no reason to run toward the smell every time you catch a whiff ..

Less interested in the sick themselves, Davor goes to take a look at the allegedly poisoned well.

Arra had no formal training as a healer, but her newly found compatriots had decided among themselves that they wanted to investigate this poisoning. Still, she had some small wisdom from her few years, and she bent low over the sick to see if she might divine the source of their woes. Any who were near her might have heard her sniffing, for all the world sounding like some small predator hunting for prey.

14:02, Today: Arra rolled 12 using 1d20+3.  Medicine.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:04, Sat 26 Nov 2022.