An ethereal voice echoes through the void "Let the Games Begin!"
In the city of Neverwinter, a dwarf named Gundren Rockseeker asked each of you to bring a wagonload of provisions to the rough-and-tumble settlement of Phandalin, a couple of days’ travel southeast of the city. Gundren was clearly excited and more than a little secretive about his reasons for the trip, saying only that he and his brothers had found “something big,” and that he’d pay you ten gold pieces each for escorting his supplies safely to Barthen's Provisions, a trading post in Phandalin. He then set out ahead of you on horse, along with a warrior escort named Sildar Hallwinter, claiming he needed to arrive early to “take care of business.” You’ve spent the last few days following the High Road south from Neverwinter, and you've just recently veered east along the Triboar Trail. You’ve encountered no trouble so far, but this territory can be dangerous. As the sun rises you all slowly wake to continue your journey. Enjoying a campfire breakfast and breaking down your camp while collecting the cart full of supplies. What do you want to do?
(Since you all have been traveling together for a few days if you would like to start with anything the party has gleaned of your personality in the short time they have met you and also how you know/have come to be employed by Gundren.)
Reghar the goliath ate heartily like usual. "Yeah like I was saying the other day I'm an only child, my family is good. I just decided it was time to go out and make something of myself. I wouldn't mind retiring back home in a few years. Open a tavern with a fighting pit and tell stories of my adventures."
After eating Reghar will go make a loop around the camp, pee on a tree and check the area before getting going again. Perception 21
"How fascinating," Geth said as he scribbled in his notes. "Is that common in goliath families: having not that many children?"
Traveling in groups and doing odd jobs was not something the young scholar would have considered fun, but with such an eclectic group as the one he had found, it was an opportunity he could not pass up. Being the only human of the group, he was getting first-hand experience with races none of his fellow scholars got. Plus, given that he had only recently been thrown out of an elven camp for getting "too close to the research," this worked out for him.
Geth only poked at his breakfast, but would have been ready to leave with his group at any given moment.
Reghar you look around your campsite and see the lush untamed forest around you, the sun barely cresting and shining through and over the treetops, the sky a beautiful combinations of oranges and red with just a tint of the blue hue of the coming day. The area where you camped last night is a little ways from the Triboar Trail and has a thick thicket around it make a natural dense foliage wall around the camp. You sense movement in the thicket that instantly throws you on guard heart pounding with a burst of readied adrenalin until a small rabbit peeks its way through the brambles. Your heart beat slows and you look to your campsite with the smouldering fire almost out and your current companions on your new job finishing up there breakfasts and packing up.
(Do you guys want an OOC thread for this or just use parentheses?)
"Filth, aw a this is filth." The druid mumbles complaints between and during mouthfuls of his breakfast, spraying morsels of food around everything in the vicinity. "Gie us a crunchy squirrel any day. By the Hells, I'd take slugs and moss o'er this muck!"
Dressed in a tattered leather jerkin and simple rags, the druid known as Roth could be summed up in three words, smelly, dirty, and drunk. Wispy grey hair falls about his face, which is dominated by a severe burn on his right-hand side - a reminder of the folly of youth, he mentioned to someone with the fortitude to ride downwind of him. A battered wooden shield and rusty scimitar show signs of years of use, and years of neglect. The only thing in his possession in good condition was a backpack, possibly given to him by Gundren for the trip. Within minutes of departing, Roth had the backpack open, throwing away most of its contents with cries of "Useless!" and "Waste of space!", and has since started filling the bag with twigs, nuts, rocks, and on one occasion, horse droppings.
Only when prompted on how he was acquainted with Gundren does Roth crack a smile, a horrible sight if ever there was one. "A cosy pile o' hay near Gundren's hoose was ma bed fur the night, until he appear'd wi' the guard. Ah may huv exchanged wurds with them, and mibbay a spell or twa; Gundren must've liked what 'e saw, cos he offer'd me a job oan the spot. Tough luck fur me, ya canny buy booze with horseshit, so ah said aye!"
Roth's drinking had become apparent quite quickly after departure, a bottle of spirits, probably stolen from somewhere in Neverwinter, eventually ran out, along with his (presumably homemade) moonshine, housed in his new waterskin. This has left him slightly more cantankerous than normal.
Despite his protests, the food on his plate decreases in quantity until gone, leaving the suspicion that he wouldn't be satisfied without complaining, regardless of the quantity or quality.
Hi everyone, looking forward to playing with you all. Does anyone have any shareable content at all or are we just using basic material?
I'm trying 'an accent' with Roth, so if anyone needs a translation, speak up. Probably best to read it phonetically. If it gets irritating, let me know. :)
The druid cackles as the bolt hits home. "Ha! No need fur the rest o' us, wi' Reghar the rabbit-killer oan hand!"
Roth's natural pessimism begins to creep in as his mouth returns to its natural scowl. "Naw doubt the rabbit is surely afflict'd wi' some pox or disease, it mibbay sens'd a man o' nature near to it, an' was seekin' me out fur help. Might've wast'd a bolt, goliath."
Priscilla Stretches as she peaks from behind a bundle of sacks the incredibly tiny halfling lass with naturally curly locks blinks her big blue eyes and begins to eat form some of the food left for her.
"What did I miss?"She says yawning and pulling her dagger to clean a bit of gunk from under her nail. Seeing some booze she sneaks over and takes a sip dagger still in hand. She pulls it from her lips and wipes her mouth off on her bare arm and shudders.
"Still tastes like piss," She says and shakes her head as slips the dagger back into her boot and smiles."Who cooked, because it wasn't me and they need a bit more...never mind just realized I ate some of that leftover meat log thing from last night.."Priscilla takes another big swig, and coughs, feigns a gag and then swallows hard.
"Not much," Geth says as he notices the halfling approaching the rest of the group. "Regar was kind enough to find lunch today, but that's about it." He looked up at the rising sun. "I expect our mysterious employer would want us to not dally too much longer." He hastily finished what was left of his meal. Pricilla was right. It wasn't good, but it was at least still edible.