Time Started: Duneset, c2393/Lavanda-10, 17’48

Location: Feodris | Dosleron Region | Grasmere Island Province | Grasmere Keep | The Salt Slums | The Stewed Prune

We began our tale in media res, joining the crew of The Stewed Prune just as a bar brawl had broken out. The cause of the ruckus seemed to be some kind of political disagreement, but things escalated quickly as some of the more inebriated patrons weren’t content with mere fisticuffs and property damage but had moved on to arson, scattering the burning logs from the hearth out into the common area and tossing lit candles at each other as weapons.

For the most part, the crew tried to focus on calming the crowd and keeping the fires under control. Riv, a maridjinn far from home disguised as a tall human, doused some flames while several customers fled the scene (most without paying) and others tried to get out of the line of fire from the more aggressive brawlers. Quincy, a pompous tortle sorcerer, and Brom, Stewed Prune proprietor and dwarven druid, tried to find sources of water. Meanwhile, ex-Pillarguard tabaxi Bold Rain, let his training take over and clawed at a customer who seemed to be trying to take the opportunity of the distraction to score some free beer.

Olivia, a ranger who had spent most of her formative years lost in The Whimsey and who had been magically de-aged on her return trip to the material plane, contributed to the firefighting efforts as best she could. When that seemed a losing effort, she tried to shout down the unruly brawlers with some particularly unsubtle threats with her crossbow. Despite her best efforts, the patrons seemed either too scared to obey or too lost in their cups to listen.

As Brom dashed toward the back door to fetch a mop bucket, he found one customer had slipped into the back and had started intentionally starting fires on his and Bold’s bedding. The young woman was acting strangely and as Brom diverted his attention to try and stop her, he realized she seemed to be under some kind of drug or magical spell. Frustrated, Brom shapeshifted into a bear and knocked the woman unconscious before dragging her outside away from the flames.

Beeroy and Quincy bickered noisily but fell into a familiar cooperative routine, working on the fire and trying to subdue the rowdiest of the mob. After a few moments, Bold joined them in the center of the room, trying to break up fights and keep the fires contained.

Urne, the lone dragonkin in the establishment and disgraced artificer from the Forgeborn clan, evaluated the scenario in his typical unaffected manner. Clearly the construction on the building was shoddy, and many standard fire safety precautions had gone unheeded. Things were going to need fixing, and it seemed unlikely he would get the audience he had come for with the proprietors so clearly preoccupied. Urne stumbled on his way out the open window, and found Goat—his automaton companions—waiting for him on the other side. Together they headed back into the burning building to help however they could.

As the fires grew, Riv refocused his efforts on the spreading hearthfire while the others did their best with the smaller fires and began to focus their attention on the most belligerent brawlers and arsonists. A large meccalid (dwarf-orc hybrid), later identified as Odu, seemed to be the ringleader so Beeroy tried to pin his foot to the floor with a dagger while Olivia pelted him in the thigh with her crossbow. His rage and drunkenness made him shrug off even these grievous wounds, though. At last, Quincy cast sleep on the most dangerous brawlers, allowing the rest to be herded out to the street and the dozing instigators to be dragged to safety.

The fire brigade arrived and assisted with their own water magic to finish putting out the fires burning The Stewed Prune. They asked what had happened and were informed about the now-unconscious woman found in the back room. The brigade officer seemed familiar with the symptoms described and pinned a marker card to the young woman’s dress, designating her as a “person of interest” for the Town Patrol, whom he said would be arriving at some point.

Meanwhile, Brom, trying to account for the last of the customers, caught a glimpse of something in a side alley just down the street from the Prune’s entrance. It jogged a memory from just before the fight broke out, and as he turned to get a better look, the shadow turned and vanished. “There!” Brom shouted, shifting into a huge dog and giving chase. Quincy, Riv, Bold, and Olivia followed, dashing down the alley after the fleeing shape.

The quarry crashed through some refuse, slipping in the garbage, allowing Brom and the others a hope they could catch her. But the pursued picked up a burst of speed and almost slipped away. Quincy shot the runner in the back with some magic missiles, slowing them down enough that Bold could grab its cloak and drag it to the ground.

As the groaning shadow sat up and tossed back its hood, the panting staff of The Stewed Prune saw a lovely purple-skinned ovor woman in leather armor regard them with irritation and embarrassment. She seemed to assume your interest in her was part of a shakedown and offered a coinpurse if she could be let free with no questions.

Brom seemed to think the rogue had something to do with the brawl or the fire and pressed her on it, resisting the temptation of the bribe money. After some resistance, the ovor confessed that she had been asked to meet a well-dressed man at The Stewed Prune. She said she’d been having an affair with him, but had gotten into some trouble that he had gotten her out of without much explanation. She was suspicious of his motives and was lurking outside trying to decide if she should take the meeting when the fight broke out. Everyone still had questions for her, but she pulled the old, “Look over there!” trick and disappeared.

Everyone was frustrated and headed back to the bar, but spirits lifted a bit when it was quickly obvious there was only one well-dressed person still hanging around. After approaching him, you began to question the individual. He seemed nervous and cagey, and told a series of lies that Brom quickly picked up on. When pressed, he admitted he was a Pillarhand Judge (Judge Jamie Wappelode) and that he had been having an affair with a purple-skinned ovor. He convinced Brom and the others to let him leave before the authorities arrived, but claimed he could be reached at the courthouse so long as they promised not to disturb him inside.

Shortly after he left, the Town Patrol did arrive as advertised. Led by an important-looking man who quickly took control of the situation outside, asking for details about the instigators, escalators, and the young woman who had started the fire in the back room. Most of those pointed out by the Stewed Prune crew were hauled off, others were temporarily detained, questioned, and in a matter of minutes all had cleared out leaving only the badly damaged bar staff behind.

Riv and Urne lent some magic to repair some of the worst of the damage, but it was clear there was more than one night’s work to get the place back in working order so everyone agreed to reconvene in the morning. Brom paid everyone for their work, including a small bonus for the trouble, quietly lamenting the number of unpaid tabs, and set off to find a suitable inn for the night.

Game Event: Long Rest

Time Ended: Elmset, c2393/Lavanda-11, 10’33