There have been tales travelling around the inns of Neverwinter of a dragon in the region of the Sword Mountains. The tales say of a white dragon has descended upon the mountain range and claimed the snow-cappd range is it's own. There have apparently been sightings of the dragon patrolling the skies around Icespire Peak, surveying the land and hunting for food or something else before returning to it's lair, A crumbling fortress on the northeast spur of Icespire Peak serves as the dragon’s lair.
The fortress used to be home to a tribe of savage orcs who have now been seen roaming the foothills of the mountain range and deep in the forests consorting with a small group of half-orcs that dwell within the dark depths of Neverwinter Wood.
Other travellers on the road of noted a manticore has been spotted roaming the region, driven from it's nest by the more powerful dragon, and has begun terrorizing the folks living on the outskirts of Phandalin.
Always on the look out for some good coin and a new tale to tell, you leave Neverwinter travelling down The High Road to Phandalin on one of the frequent merchant convoys. There are not many travellers with you as few would like to get mixed up with dragons and the other creatures roaming the area, but there are a number of other adventuring types on the convoy with you, mainly hired as security.
Nestled in the rocky foothills of the snow-capped Sword Mountains is the mining town of Phandalin, which consists of forty or fifty simple log buildings. Crumbling stone ruins surround the newer houses and shops, showing how this must have been a much larger town in centuries past.
Phandalin’s residents are quiet, hard-working folk who came from distant cities to eke out a life amid the harsh wilderness. They are farmers, stonecutters, blacksmiths, traders, prospectors, and children. The town has no walls and no garrison, but most of the adults keep weapons within easy reach in case the need for arms should arise.
Visitors are welcome here, particularly if they have coin to spend or news to share. Upon arrival you wander the town getting your bearings finding the Stonehill Inn at the center of town offering modest lodging and meals. A couple of doors down from the inn is a job board for adventurers, posted outside the townmaster’s hall, .
As you enter the establishment, your eyes adjust to the dim light and your nostrils are filled with the scent of heavy smoke coming from a dozen pipes in the mouths of patrons, as well as from a large fireplace in the western wall of the inn.
Booths make up most of the perimeter of the interior, and most are filled with various patrons. Large round tables occupy most of the middle floor space, and a long wooden bar dominates the Eastern wall. At the North end of the Inn, a set of stairs ascends to a balcony that circumvents the lower floor, and two hallways that lead North to a number of available rooms for rent.
Behind the bar, you see a short yet rotund human man serving drinks and wiping glasses clean with a towel draped over his shoulder. "If it's a tale you've come to find this is the place for it friend. Just heard from one of those folks passing through that they've been seeing Orcs coming down the mountains preying on the folks of the lowlands. You didn't perchance come from Neverwinter did ya? They really need to send some aid this way elsewise we'll be getting overrun in jig time! We've been working so hard to get this town rebuilt as well." He hands you your drink and collects the dirty tankards that have been piled at the side of the bar and dunks them into the bucket of murky water and begins to 'clean' them. "If your looking to make a name for youself lad, the townmaster posts jobs up on the board out in the town square, a good bit of coin is up for them too."
You take your drink scanning the room, and spot a couple of familiar faces from your caravan enjoying a meal and drink. The rest of the patrons appear to keep to themselves slouched over their drinks, letting the alcohol wash away their aches and pains from working in the mines.
Seeing the familiar faces from the caravan, Frilneiros heads out towards them.
"Greetings, lads! How are you enjoying your stay here? Have you heard about the Orc problem here? My, my, I'm thinking that would make a great story to be explored!"
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There have been tales travelling around the inns of Neverwinter of a dragon in the region of the Sword Mountains. The tales say of a white dragon has descended upon the mountain range and claimed the snow-cappd range is it's own. There have apparently been sightings of the dragon patrolling the skies around Icespire Peak, surveying the land and hunting for food or something else before returning to it's lair, A crumbling fortress on the northeast spur of Icespire Peak serves as the dragon’s lair.
The fortress used to be home to a tribe of savage orcs who have now been seen roaming the foothills of the mountain range and deep in the forests consorting with a small group of half-orcs that dwell within the dark depths of Neverwinter Wood.
Other travellers on the road of noted a manticore has been spotted roaming the region, driven from it's nest by the more powerful dragon, and has begun terrorizing the folks living on the outskirts of Phandalin.
Always on the look out for some good coin and a new tale to tell, you leave Neverwinter travelling down The High Road to Phandalin on one of the frequent merchant convoys. There are not many travellers with you as few would like to get mixed up with dragons and the other creatures roaming the area, but there are a number of other adventuring types on the convoy with you, mainly hired as security.
Nestled in the rocky foothills of the snow-capped Sword Mountains is the mining town of Phandalin, which consists of forty or fifty simple log buildings. Crumbling stone ruins surround the newer houses and shops, showing how this must have been a much larger town in centuries past.
Phandalin’s residents are quiet, hard-working folk who came from distant cities to eke out a life amid the harsh wilderness. They are farmers, stonecutters, blacksmiths, traders, prospectors, and children. The town has no walls and no garrison, but most of the adults keep weapons within easy reach in case the need for arms should arise.
Visitors are welcome here, particularly if they have coin to spend or news to share. Upon arrival you wander the town getting your bearings finding the Stonehill Inn at the center of town offering modest lodging and meals. A couple of doors down from the inn is a job board for adventurers, posted outside the townmaster’s hall, .
Frilneiros enters the inn with a joyous walk and orders a drink
"Aah, what a good place for the beginning of a tale!" he says to himself.
Trying to find a seat, he looks around hoping to meet a friendly face.
Stonehill Inn
As you enter the establishment, your eyes adjust to the dim light and your nostrils are filled with the scent of heavy smoke coming from a dozen pipes in the mouths of patrons, as well as from a large fireplace in the western wall of the inn.
Booths make up most of the perimeter of the interior, and most are filled with various patrons. Large round tables occupy most of the middle floor space, and a long wooden bar dominates the Eastern wall. At the North end of the Inn, a set of stairs ascends to a balcony that circumvents the lower floor, and two hallways that lead North to a number of available rooms for rent.
Behind the bar, you see a short yet rotund human man serving drinks and wiping glasses clean with a towel draped over his shoulder. "If it's a tale you've come to find this is the place for it friend. Just heard from one of those folks passing through that they've been seeing Orcs coming down the mountains preying on the folks of the lowlands. You didn't perchance come from Neverwinter did ya? They really need to send some aid this way elsewise we'll be getting overrun in jig time! We've been working so hard to get this town rebuilt as well." He hands you your drink and collects the dirty tankards that have been piled at the side of the bar and dunks them into the bucket of murky water and begins to 'clean' them. "If your looking to make a name for youself lad, the townmaster posts jobs up on the board out in the town square, a good bit of coin is up for them too."
You take your drink scanning the room, and spot a couple of familiar faces from your caravan enjoying a meal and drink. The rest of the patrons appear to keep to themselves slouched over their drinks, letting the alcohol wash away their aches and pains from working in the mines.
Seeing the familiar faces from the caravan, Frilneiros heads out towards them.
"Greetings, lads! How are you enjoying your stay here? Have you heard about the Orc problem here? My, my, I'm thinking that would make a great story to be explored!"