The skies are overcast but the wind is light and the temperature is comfortable for someone from the temperate lowlands, perhaps a little warm for those accustomed to higher, colder places. The creaking of the wagon's axles mingles with the cry of seagulls as the party makes its way south on the High Road from Neverwinter. Tracking the coast a few miles inland, the High Road links Neverwinter in the North and Waterdeep to the South, passing through the Sword Mountains as it does so. Nestled in the Sword Mountains lies Phandalin, the frontier mining town to which the wagon and its contents are bound.
There are five travelling with the wagon. Some were hired to escort it. Others have their own reasons for wanting to travel to Phandalin, and took the opportunity to join the group for the journey. Safety in numbers, as they say.
Anyone who has spent any time on the Sword Coast has heard the tales of an ancient mine near Phandalin filled with riches and magic, that was apparently the scene of some sort of cataclysm. These rumours and legends have long attracted treasure hunters and adventurers, but none has ever located the mine. It's probably just a myth.
It's only recently that the area has begun to be resettled, and Phandalin is one of the newly occupied settlements. Dwarves, humans, and other creatures are starting to explore the area around the village more extensively now, discovering rich seams of ore which enterprising individuals and consortiums are racing to exploit.
This wagon contains supplies and tools that would be useful for such an enterprise, though the Dwarf Gundrun Rockseeker, who hired some of those accompanying it, was tight lipped about exactly what he was planning. Despite his secrecy, he couldn't help but hint at 'something big,' whilst the twinkle in his eye betrayed his excitement. Gundrun had set out on horseback a day ahead of the wagon, accompanied by a human associate named Sildar Hallwinter. He said he had to take care of some business in town, and that the wagon should be delivered to Barthen's Provisions, a shop in Phandalin. On delivery, Barthen would pay each of the escorts 10 Gold Pieces.
It has been an uneventful journey so far, and it looks like easy money.
*Nice, I’m exited. This will be the only post for the nest 12 hours or so as I sleep.*
Lukuth Lokar is a burly Goliath, he is dressed in furs and hides made. Covering his body is runes and symbols in a blue warpaint. He has rock grey skin and dull grey and bluish eyes. His hair is black and hangs around his shoulders in braids. On his back is strapped a greataxe, it is evident he prioritises brawn over brain.
Lukuth is walking alongside the wagon humming a jaunty tune as he breathes in the air and looks around.
The man sitting on a crate atop the jostling wagon looked entirely uneventful. He was tall and thin, but not enough of either to give him an unusual appearance by human standards. He had pale blue eyes, a sickly, pale completion, and pale brown hair the shade of sun-faded leather. The clothing he wore was not that of an aristocrat nor that of a commoner; overall he gave the impression of someone who had recently come into wealth but had not been born into it.
Mayres Sigil was sitting in the sun -- he detested anything cold or wet or dreary -- playing a child's counting game to amuse himself. "Why, look," he cried, "that cloud looks like a squirrel!"
Alden - a ranger in his late 30s - walks a little ahead of the wagon as a scout.
For a ranger, he looks well-groomed and athletic, but his face, which is hidden behind a full beard, is marked by the rough life in the woods and nature. He enjoys the pleasant temperature and the few rays of sunshine that shine on his face through the squirrel-shaped clouds and is glad to be wearing light leather as armour in this weather conditions. His longbow strapped to his back looks like it served him well for some time already. As he walks, he deftly lets an arrow travel between his fingers.
Growing up in Darkwood Forest, he feels quit comfortable in the woodlands. And if the forest has taught him one thing, it's that you can't be fooled by its peace and beauty - because danger can lurk behind every tree.
He keeps a watchful eye on the path ahead and the roadside they pass.
Perched in the driver’s seat, Aeran's tall elven frame sways gently in time with the creaking of the wagon’s axles, the reins held lightly in his hands as the oxen pull the wagon along the road. His unruly blond hair shines like molten gold in the sunlight, framing his finely chiselled features, signifying his high elf heritage. Golden eyes, keen and observant, sweep across the landscape, capturing every intricate detail of the journey.
Aeran, dressed in a set of well-maintained chain armour hidden beneath a fine-looking light travelling cloak, remains comfortable under the gentle warmth of the sun. His armoured gauntlets, temporarily set aside, dangle near him, leaving his hands free to provide a firmer grip on the reins should the need arise. Despite the stoic responsibility of guiding the wagon, a small but genuine smile dances upon his lips as he listens to the soft humming coming from the goliath walking beside the wagon.
"Isn’t it a glorious day, my friends?" Aeran's cheerful voice suddenly carries on the breeze that ruffles his golden locks around his face. He continues, “We had no time for proper introductions before our departure, but allow me to introduce myself now. My name is Aeran Dormaris, and it is my sincere pleasure to make the acquaintance of you all. Let us hope the journey ahead is as pleasurable as what it has been so far.”
Alden keeps a constant distance to the wagon but in such a way that he notices everything behind him.
Without taking his eyes off the road, he speaks to his companions: "You look like a good bunch who know their stuff. Gundren has always had a knack for finding good men (and women) for his missions. If the journey continues as smoothly as it has, we will be at the first tavern sooner than we thought, and can fill our throats with a fresh ale."
Mayres wrinkled his nose. "I've never liked ale. Rather have a spiced wine any day. Its much more . . ." he trailed off, trying to find the right word, "bubbly."
"Bubbly, bubbly, bubbly." The wizard wiggled his fingers to emphasize his point, bright sparks flickering between his fingers before quickly dying out.
Looking over to Mayres with a smile "hopefully we won't need that fireworks today - but good to know we have some." His eyes once again directed to the road ahead of them.
Looking over to Mayres with a smile "hopefully we won't need that fireworks today - but good to know we have some." His eyes once again directed to the road ahead of them.
"Yes, the only problem is that they burn out so quickly -- I've never been good at handling the elements -- perhaps some lamp oil might help?" Mayres cast a glance around the cart. "There seems to be all kinds of flammable things in here."
Sheepish, he looked back over to Alden. "Here I go again, forgetting the niceties. My name is Mayres Sigil, wizard and alchemist by trade. You are?"
"Whatever was a ranger from Eldertree doing in Neverwinter? Visiting relatives, looking for work?" Mayres' tone was kindly and his face was gentle, but his questions served a sharper purpose. He didn't know these people, best to be on his guard until they proved trustworthy.
"Whatever was a ranger from Eldertree doing in Neverwinter, Alden Shadowclaw? Visiting relatives, looking for work?" Mayres' tone was kindly and his face was gentle, but his questions served a sharper purpose. He didn't know these people, best to be on his guard utile they proved trustworthy.
"and sometimes its even better to know more than the names huh?" Alden responded without looking back. Continuing with a calm voice
"My journey to Neverwinter was driven by a quest to seek an elven historian and scholar who resides in the city. He was said to posses ancient scrolls and texts that may hold the key to unlocking the long-forgotten history of the Darkwood Forest and its mystical connections to the surrounding lands. As I have a strong bonding to my homeland I wanted to gain access to these invaluable historical records and fulfill my duty to my homeland" Alden looking back at wagon
"Gundren on the other hand, had some connections within the mining and trading community in Eldertree. We met us once he had some business back there. As he knew I was coming to Neverwinter he asked for a helping hand" Alden imitating a dwarfish voice which was suposed to sound like Gundren: "Easy money boy easy money"
Alden laughed to himself talking further to Mayres "But enough about me my curious friend, what brings you to this area?"
"Neverwinter has an extensive library, I needed to research something so I could complete a . . . project of mine." Mayres' hand strayed to his neck, fingers closing around a ring on a silver chain. "One of the High Priestesses and I had a squabble, fought over the ethics of free knowledge. We worked it out, but I still thought it time to leave town."
This was all true, however, what Mayres hadn't said to the ranger was that this had all happened nearly sixty years before. The High Priestess was dead, which was the only reason Mayres had even dared to set foot in the city. Immortal or not, he was still vulnerable to wounds, and, if the rumors about the High Priestess were true, poison, too.
The skies are overcast but the wind is light and the temperature is comfortable for someone from the temperate lowlands, perhaps a little warm for those accustomed to higher, colder places. The creaking of the wagon's axles mingles with the cry of seagulls as the party makes its way south on the High Road from Neverwinter. Tracking the coast a few miles inland, the High Road links Neverwinter in the North and Waterdeep to the South, passing through the Sword Mountains as it does so. Nestled in the Sword Mountains lies Phandalin, the frontier mining town to which the wagon and its contents are bound.
There are five travelling with the wagon. Some were hired to escort it. Others have their own reasons for wanting to travel to Phandalin, and took the opportunity to join the group for the journey. Safety in numbers, as they say.
Anyone who has spent any time on the Sword Coast has heard the tales of an ancient mine near Phandalin filled with riches and magic, that was apparently the scene of some sort of cataclysm. These rumours and legends have long attracted treasure hunters and adventurers, but none has ever located the mine. It's probably just a myth.
It's only recently that the area has begun to be resettled, and Phandalin is one of the newly occupied settlements. Dwarves, humans, and other creatures are starting to explore the area around the village more extensively now, discovering rich seams of ore which enterprising individuals and consortiums are racing to exploit.
This wagon contains supplies and tools that would be useful for such an enterprise, though the Dwarf Gundrun Rockseeker, who hired some of those accompanying it, was tight lipped about exactly what he was planning. Despite his secrecy, he couldn't help but hint at 'something big,' whilst the twinkle in his eye betrayed his excitement. Gundrun had set out on horseback a day ahead of the wagon, accompanied by a human associate named Sildar Hallwinter. He said he had to take care of some business in town, and that the wagon should be delivered to Barthen's Provisions, a shop in Phandalin. On delivery, Barthen would pay each of the escorts 10 Gold Pieces.
It has been an uneventful journey so far, and it looks like easy money.
*Nice, I’m exited. This will be the only post for the nest 12 hours or so as I sleep.*
Lukuth Lokar is a burly Goliath, he is dressed in furs and hides made. Covering his body is runes and symbols in a blue warpaint. He has rock grey skin and dull grey and bluish eyes. His hair is black and hangs around his shoulders in braids. On his back is strapped a greataxe, it is evident he prioritises brawn over brain.
Lukuth is walking alongside the wagon humming a jaunty tune as he breathes in the air and looks around.
Skyrim!
Also I will cripple your bank accounts.
The man sitting on a crate atop the jostling wagon looked entirely uneventful. He was tall and thin, but not enough of either to give him an unusual appearance by human standards. He had pale blue eyes, a sickly, pale completion, and pale brown hair the shade of sun-faded leather. The clothing he wore was not that of an aristocrat nor that of a commoner; overall he gave the impression of someone who had recently come into wealth but had not been born into it.
Mayres Sigil was sitting in the sun -- he detested anything cold or wet or dreary -- playing a child's counting game to amuse himself. "Why, look," he cried, "that cloud looks like a squirrel!"
Alden - a ranger in his late 30s - walks a little ahead of the wagon as a scout.
For a ranger, he looks well-groomed and athletic, but his face, which is hidden behind a full beard, is marked by the rough life in the woods and nature.
He enjoys the pleasant temperature and the few rays of sunshine that shine on his face through the squirrel-shaped clouds and is glad to be wearing light leather as armour in this weather conditions.
His longbow strapped to his back looks like it served him well for some time already. As he walks, he deftly lets an arrow travel between his fingers.
Growing up in Darkwood Forest, he feels quit comfortable in the woodlands. And if the forest has taught him one thing, it's that you can't be fooled by its peace and beauty - because danger can lurk behind every tree.
He keeps a watchful eye on the path ahead and the roadside they pass.
Perched in the driver’s seat, Aeran's tall elven frame sways gently in time with the creaking of the wagon’s axles, the reins held lightly in his hands as the oxen pull the wagon along the road. His unruly blond hair shines like molten gold in the sunlight, framing his finely chiselled features, signifying his high elf heritage. Golden eyes, keen and observant, sweep across the landscape, capturing every intricate detail of the journey.
Aeran, dressed in a set of well-maintained chain armour hidden beneath a fine-looking light travelling cloak, remains comfortable under the gentle warmth of the sun. His armoured gauntlets, temporarily set aside, dangle near him, leaving his hands free to provide a firmer grip on the reins should the need arise. Despite the stoic responsibility of guiding the wagon, a small but genuine smile dances upon his lips as he listens to the soft humming coming from the goliath walking beside the wagon.
"Isn’t it a glorious day, my friends?" Aeran's cheerful voice suddenly carries on the breeze that ruffles his golden locks around his face. He continues, “We had no time for proper introductions before our departure, but allow me to introduce myself now. My name is Aeran Dormaris, and it is my sincere pleasure to make the acquaintance of you all. Let us hope the journey ahead is as pleasurable as what it has been so far.”
Aeran Dormaris - L2 Paladin on his way to Phandelver
Vesna March - L1 Cleric in Etharis
DM The Missing Farmer
Alden keeps a constant distance to the wagon but in such a way that he notices everything behind him.
Without taking his eyes off the road, he speaks to his companions:
"You look like a good bunch who know their stuff. Gundren has always had a knack for finding good men (and women) for his missions.
If the journey continues as smoothly as it has, we will be at the first tavern sooner than we thought, and can fill our throats with a fresh ale."
Mayres wrinkled his nose. "I've never liked ale. Rather have a spiced wine any day. Its much more . . ." he trailed off, trying to find the right word, "bubbly."
"Bubbly, bubbly, bubbly." The wizard wiggled his fingers to emphasize his point, bright sparks flickering between his fingers before quickly dying out.
Looking over to Mayres with a smile "hopefully we won't need that fireworks today - but good to know we have some." His eyes once again directed to the road ahead of them.
"Yes, the only problem is that they burn out so quickly -- I've never been good at handling the elements -- perhaps some lamp oil might help?" Mayres cast a glance around the cart. "There seems to be all kinds of flammable things in here."
Sheepish, he looked back over to Alden. "Here I go again, forgetting the niceties. My name is Mayres Sigil, wizard and alchemist by trade. You are?"
"Better know the names of the ones who got your back - I am Alden Shadowclaw - passionate ranger from Eldertree"
Looking back to Lukuth "what about you my big friend with the even bigger axe? Whats your name?"
"Whatever was a ranger from Eldertree doing in Neverwinter? Visiting relatives, looking for work?" Mayres' tone was kindly and his face was gentle, but his questions served a sharper purpose. He didn't know these people, best to be on his guard until they proved trustworthy.
"and sometimes its even better to know more than the names huh?" Alden responded without looking back. Continuing with a calm voice
"My journey to Neverwinter was driven by a quest to seek an elven historian and scholar who resides in the city. He was said to posses ancient scrolls and texts that may hold the key to unlocking the long-forgotten history of the Darkwood Forest and its mystical connections to the surrounding lands. As I have a strong bonding to my homeland I wanted to gain access to these invaluable historical records and fulfill my duty to my homeland" Alden looking back at wagon
"Gundren on the other hand, had some connections within the mining and trading community in Eldertree. We met us once he had some business back there. As he knew I was coming to Neverwinter he asked for a helping hand" Alden imitating a dwarfish voice which was suposed to sound like Gundren: "Easy money boy easy money"
Alden laughed to himself talking further to Mayres "But enough about me my curious friend, what brings you to this area?"
"Neverwinter has an extensive library, I needed to research something so I could complete a . . . project of mine." Mayres' hand strayed to his neck, fingers closing around a ring on a silver chain. "One of the High Priestesses and I had a squabble, fought over the ethics of free knowledge. We worked it out, but I still thought it time to leave town."
This was all true, however, what Mayres hadn't said to the ranger was that this had all happened nearly sixty years before. The High Priestess was dead, which was the only reason Mayres had even dared to set foot in the city. Immortal or not, he was still vulnerable to wounds, and, if the rumors about the High Priestess were true, poison, too.
“Me Lukuth, hello Alden.” He grins
Skyrim!
Also I will cripple your bank accounts.
"Since we're all swapping stories, what brought you to Neverwinter, Lukuth?" Mayres asked of the hulking Goliath.
“Giants, bigger than me, giants bash my people. I flee.” His smiles drops.
Skyrim!
Also I will cripple your bank accounts.
"a man who gets straight to the point" " Alden says and grins back friendly. "Pleasure to meet you"
“It is my honour.” He grins
Skyrim!
Also I will cripple your bank accounts.
"Mhm, yes. Giants are wont to do that." Mayres murmured sympatheticly.
Lukuth nods sadly
Skyrim!
Also I will cripple your bank accounts.