Scales of War (Dancing Wizard Edition)

Rescue at Rivenroar Beginning: The Antler and Thistle

Melorasday, July 7th, 707 BTF

It’s a hot, hot day in Brindol, enough so that it’s dangerous to stay outside without water even for the young and robust. This has turned out to be a mixed curse of sorts, since the deadly heat is the finest excuse to blow off a day of work any of the townspeople have had in years. Everywhere any of you look, you see taverns crowded with people, clusters of mothers and children sitting together in shade eating late lunch, and even members of the City Watch taking breaks from their patrols to get out of their armor and wet their faces in any nearby source of water. After all, the heat would be just as dangerous to anyone marching in to cause trouble as it is for them – right?

The Antler and Thistle isn’t as packed as some of the nicer establishments in Brindol, and this is a very good thing. The drinks here don’t taste as good as they might, and the meat’s pretty dry, but without the thick press of bodies in the other buildings you’ve actually got space to get, and stay, cool. A group of men play cards in the back, and it looks like there’s room for one more. The bartender, a balding, rail-thin man, leans across the counter to chat conspiratorially with a Gnoll in strange furs, a man dressed in a merchant’s traveling tunic sits next to a Tiefling wearing the standard of Bahamut quietly discussing business, and a Deva woman sits off to the side, enjoying the cool and watching the Tiefling closely but casually.


Temsik – You’re used to getting nasty looks from non-Tieflings, especially humans, and while you’re getting enough of them to notice in Brindol for sure, you’re not getting as many as usual. The people on the street were downright unimpressed with your horns and red skin, but that could be chalked up to lethargy caused by the heat. It happened again in the Antler and Thistle though! A few people looked up, coughed or sniffed loudly at your appearance, and then went back to their business. As you flop down, exhausted from your travels, you realize why that must be – there is a tapestry on the back wall of the tavern, right underneath the mounted antlers that probably give it its name, showing four people striking action poses, one of whom is a Tiefling (see the picture of the Diamond League above). “Heroes of Brindol,” is written in gold fiber underneath the image.

You haven’t been eating for more than a moment before a lean, gregarious man in his early 30s plops down next to you, wiping his forehead and smiling. He wears the sort of traveling tunic and light pants that merchants wear when running caravans in particularly hot weather. He wipes the sweat off his hand and then offers it to shake.

“Hi,” he says. “Name’s Uwe.”


Isa – Things are quiet here. It gives you time to think. Maybe if you’re lucky, things will stay quiet and you can finally – but no. A kid, probably no more than sixteen years old, wearing the clean white vestments of an acolyte of Pelor, slips into the tavern and looks around for a moment before settling on you, wringing his hands and walking over.


Winter – Just when you’ve decided that this is an awful city and you’ll never be able to support yourself, the bartender Thorik walks over, leans close, and whispers, “You work with herbs, right? How would you feel about free meals for a week?”


Grackle – Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, you’re suddenly disturbed by a group of almost a dozen yelling, giggling children. They swarm in, some of them climb on your fur, some of them pull on your weapons, and some of them just dance around.

“Mr. Grackle, Mr. Grackle,” they say. “You’ll never guess what’s happening! Never, never will you guess!”


TS – TS is a block away from the Antler and Thistle (rewind lol) and quickly approaching.


is currenly “sharing” a drink with Thorfin Ironhammer, who has become enthralled with “Rocky” and is hitting him up for any inside information he might have on the nature of metal and stones to aid him in his smithing business. Ramorod finds this stout dwarf intriguing, quite the antithesis of the stoic elves he has spent most of his life with.

“Well,” Thorfin says as he leans back and props his feet up. “You’re a wonder to be sure. Somethin’ I’ve nae seen before, but somethin’ in the core of me wants to take a pick to you and see what moves inside.” He laughs and slaps a hand on his knee. “I won’t though. You’re as alive as myself and I was never a good stoneworker besides! I do know some folks as could help you, finest miners and all-around stonefolk this side of the world, but…”

He runs his hands along his bald head and sighs, suddenly looking worried.


The days of the week are Mansday, Bowsday, Iounsday, Kordsday, Avandrasday, Melorasday, Erathisday

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