Bel's RHoD: Chapter 1 [IC]

[BelGareth]

In the quaint setting of the Old Bridge Inn, Michael finds himself seated across from Kellin Shadowbanks, the congenial halfling innkeeper. The old wooden tables and rustic charm of the place providing a comforting backdrop to their conversation.

Kellin, with a genuine concern in his eyes, leans in closer to share his thoughts, but now in a soft country accent. "Well, I tell ya, Michael, these goblin and bandit skirmishes have truly ruffled some feathers 'round here, they have. They've been plaguing the Dawn Way like a persistent cough, so they have. Trade caravans are now thinkin’ twice 'fore headin' this way, and it's puttin' a right ol’ dent in the business, 'specially here at the inn. Folks are as jittery as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs, I tell ya."

He takes a small sip from his cup before continuing, "Now, speakin’ of unusual, some travellers been whisperin' 'bout seein' strange lights out in the Witchwood. Now, I reckon it might be that local druid, Avarthel, doin' his nightly rounds, but folks are spooked nonetheless."

His eyes wander off for a moment as if reminiscing about quieter days, before he returns his attention to Michael, ready to delve further into the local happenings.

---

Novalis and Tanna-Mai find themselves welcomed warmly at the local church of Pelor, where the stout-hearted Brother Derny receives them. His lilted accent adds a comforting cadence to his words, "Ah, ye’re more than welcome to find refuge here for the night. The house of Pelor is always open to those seekin' sanctuary," he says, his face a blend of warmth and worry.

As Novalis inquires about the local jurisdiction, Brother Derny shares, "Ah, Drellin’s Ferry, it falls under the watchful eyes of Town Speaker Norro Wiston and our brave Captain Soranna Anitah, it does. Though we've some local lords and minor nobility 'round the outskirts, they’ve been good 'bout respectin' the town's autonomy, they have."

He sighs, "The marauder attacks have cast a long shadow 'cross these lands. The faithful have been fillin’ the pews, prayin’ for protection from the shadows lurkin’ 'round the bend."

---

As Telrayel and Ringel approach the barracks, they find Captain Soranna Anitah reviewing the guard rotations for the evening. She's a tall, strong-boned woman with an air of discipline about her. When she speaks, her voice carries a crisp, distinctive lilt.

Upon seeing the duo, she sets aside her papers, her face hardening with a subtle air of urgency as she addresses them. "Alright, what's this I 'ear about messages of importance? Let's 'ave it then," she says, extending a hand for the letters.

As Telrayel hands over the letters, she quickly scans through them, her face growing a shade grimmer with each line she reads. "Bloody 'ell... This ain't good, not good at all," she mutters under her breath, though loud enough for the duo to hear.

She looks up, locking eyes with Ringel and Telrayel. "I appreciate you bringin' this to me attention swiftly. Seems we've got a storm brewin' on the horizon, and it ain’t just any drizzle. I’ll need to get the council together, discuss our next steps. In the meantime, feel free to get yourselves settled in town. And... thank you," she adds, her tone firm yet appreciative as she nods towards the two.

On Ringel’s inquiry about weapons, Captain Anitah mentions, "Morlin Coalhewer might be your man. He’s the local swordsmith and armorer. Given the dire straits, he might be lookin' to stock up."

With a swift motion, she gathers her papers and heads towards the town hall, her mind seemingly racing with the implications of the news she just received.

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