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. The Stonehill Inn at the center of town offers modest lodging and meals. A couple of doors down from the inn, posted outside the townmaster’s hall, is a job board for adventurers.
Gramm, Sora, Thilael
You find yourselves inside Stonehill Inn. Sora is sitting at a table having breakfast, after having spent the night at the inn. Thilael is at the bar, being served a drink by a balding human in his fifties. He arrived a few minutes ago. Gramm enters, finding the tavern quiet at this hour, only a few patrons having breakfast, an elf at the bar and the barkeep on the other side of it.
Gorarel, Sindrall, Liliana
You find yourselves at the Townmaster's Hall. Sindrall enters into a hallway with a few potted plants as decoration and some hanged drawings. He sees a human man knocking at one of the rooms. Gorarel is knocking at the townmaster's door after receiving a message requesting his presence. Having followed Sindrall unseen down the High Road, Liliana is leaning in from behind the entrance door, trying to listen in. A passerby eyes her suspiciously, but does not stop.
You hear a male voice answering from behind the door: “If you’re a dragon, know that I’m far too thin and bony to make a good meal!”
All: What do you do? Include a description of you characters as those present would see them with your first post.
Gorarel is stands at 6 feet tall, clad in leather armor. He has long hair tied in a rough braid down his back. Two short-swords can be seen hanging from his belt and a longbow attached to his back. He has rugged yet young face.
He replies to the male voice: "How many dragons do you know who knock? I have come regarding the message sent to me. It is Gorarel"
Sindrall is of average height for his race standing at 4 foot 5", years of service to the church and his people has resulted in him being slightly skinnier then the average dwarf. His muddy brown hair and scale mail armor are caked with the dust from the road acquired on his long journey from Helm's Hold. Strapped to his back is his shield dented from numerous conflicts and tied at his waist is his warhammer, a simply crafted weapon that hides its lethal legacy.
Listening to the conversation ahead of him Sindrall lets out a hearty belly laugh at the male human's response, he addresses the man: "Well met, I am Sindrall, follower of helm", raising his voice so all in the room can hear "and I too am not a dragon!"
Liliana is a little shorter than her average half-elf brethren at 5 ft 5 and a half, clad in dusty leather armor with her trusty short bow at her back. With red hair that looks brown from the mud caked in it and sharp bright green eyes scanning round the room taking note of any visible valuables and passing persons who are less careful with their possessions.
After being glanced at suspiciously by some ignorant human she winks and smiles charmingly making sure his wife can see the interaction. Human distracted she continues to subtly watch the the dwarf to work out where his gold purse and any valuables would be. Liliana snorts in amusement hearing the dwarf declare himself not a dragon, picturing said dwarf standing upon a table - breathing fire. "Not a dragon indeed" She giggle quietly to herself.
Nodding at the barkeep, Thilael proceeds to pour some of his drink in a smaller container sitting on the bar. Looking tall even though he sits at the bar, with a height of probably 6 feet and a half feet, he is a young fellow, a high elf most likely just reaching the mature age of around 100 years old. His white hair is neatly braided into a long ponytail resting straight down on his back. He's dressed in cloth garments with strange runic patterns and leather pants. An interesting mix of scholarly and adventurer-looking clothes. To add to this, resting on the bar there is an intricately looking quarterstaff that is most likely his, and tied to his waist is a long and pointy rapier that reached all the way down to the floor, scratching it in places. As soon as he finished pouring the water into the other container a white owl appeared out of nowhere to satisfy its thirst. Thilael started to gently pet the small owl on its wings.
He then turned back to the barkeep, As you can see my Snow Owl, Fayeth, is excited to see the white mountains around your village. Quite a majestic view, I must say. You must know your mountains really well here. Anything out of the ordinary with these ones?
Gramm enters the quiet tavern and looks around. Used to a reaction when a tall dragonborn enters a room he shrugs and snorts, a small burst of flame emitting from his snout. He walks over to the bar and motions to the barkeep.
A lively establish I see. What manner of ales do you have to ease my thirst?
Gramm shrugs off his pack and props his greataxe against the bar waiting for the barkeep to bring some refreshment
He nods to the tall elf who seems very busy decanting drinks into various containers. Nice owl
Gorarel turns his attention back to the door and says: "It is not someone I am yet acquainted with. Is this really a conversation to shout through the door, or would you consider letting me in just this once?"
The man behind the bar replies to Thilael with half a smile that doesn't touch his eyes: "You've picked a dangerous time if you want to go for a trek in the mountains. I haven't seen it myself, but word is a dragon made it's home somewhere in that range and is causing all kinds of trouble."
The bartender frowns as the newcomer leans his massive axe onto the bar, blade making a loud thump on contact with the floor. After a second look at the Dragonborn, he decides to stay silent about it. "Today we offer Bitter Black, Baldur's Gate Pale and Triboar Red Ale", he answers dutifully.
Gorarel - Harbin answers curtly, without a second's thought: "I can hear you fine through the door. Do you have news, or not?"
Gramm - The barkeep disappears for a few seconds in an adjacent room and comes back with a large wooden mug filled to the brim, ale hidden under a pink head. "Not much is known, I'm afraid. A few people went missing in the mountains. The worst is, since its arrival, orc raids have been more frequent, and a manticore has been seen in the hills, too. That will be 2 silver."
Sora sits at the table toying with her food, her mind distracted. She is half-elf but to most she looks human. With light auburn hair and blue eyes, only slight point in her ears was the giveaway to a keen eye.
Whilst pushing a half eaten mushroom around her plate, she surveys the room. Her attention is caught by a high-elf talking to the barman.
As she strains to listen in on their conversation, a dragonborn enters the inn. For a split second her eyes flicker to her trusty glaive, propped up against the wall. Her attention then returns to the conversation at the bar.
Sindrall observing the conversation between the human and the man behind the door adds "Yes come on man, I have traveled many miles for information and all this talk of dragons has peaked my interest" turning to the human at the door Sindrall offers up his hand in friendship "I am curious as to what has scared this poor individual, do you have any idea?"
Gorarel evidently frustrated at Harbin: "No news of any more dragon sightings on my journey. Though there is trouble brewing in the mountains; more disturbances".
Gorarel turns to Sindrall: "You've come at an interesting time my friend."
Gorarel shakes his hand: "If you are looking for information on the area, I am able to help you. I am a ranger and know these mountains as good as anyone."
"Well, I hope that dragon stays away until someone kills it or I die of old age.", you hear Harbin grumbling. "If you're looking for work, check the job board. See if you find some dawdlers at the inn to help you, I don't want you ending up as dragon dinner. Or manticore, if the rumours are true. Go now!", he says dismissively.
Sindrall takes a close look at the human in front of him, he has the look of one who has been in the wild sometime and could be useful in his quest, there is something else about him that Sindrall can't quite put his finger on.
Knowing his task will be easier with allies, Sindrall extends his hand once more and says "Aye, it would be a pleasure to work with others once more"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
Welcome to the Dragon of Icespire Peak!
Cast:
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. The Stonehill Inn at the center of town offers modest lodging and meals. A couple of doors down from the inn, posted outside the townmaster’s hall, is a job board for adventurers.
Gramm, Sora, Thilael
You find yourselves inside Stonehill Inn. Sora is sitting at a table having breakfast, after having spent the night at the inn. Thilael is at the bar, being served a drink by a balding human in his fifties. He arrived a few minutes ago. Gramm enters, finding the tavern quiet at this hour, only a few patrons having breakfast, an elf at the bar and the barkeep on the other side of it.
Gorarel, Sindrall, Liliana
You find yourselves at the Townmaster's Hall. Sindrall enters into a hallway with a few potted plants as decoration and some hanged drawings. He sees a human man knocking at one of the rooms. Gorarel is knocking at the townmaster's door after receiving a message requesting his presence. Having followed Sindrall unseen down the High Road, Liliana is leaning in from behind the entrance door, trying to listen in. A passerby eyes her suspiciously, but does not stop.
You hear a male voice answering from behind the door: “If you’re a dragon, know that I’m far too thin and bony to make a good meal!”
All: What do you do? Include a description of you characters as those present would see them with your first post.
Gorarel is stands at 6 feet tall, clad in leather armor. He has long hair tied in a rough braid down his back. Two short-swords can be seen hanging from his belt and a longbow attached to his back. He has rugged yet young face.
He replies to the male voice: "How many dragons do you know who knock? I have come regarding the message sent to me. It is Gorarel"
Gorarel, Sindrall, Liliana
Sindrall is of average height for his race standing at 4 foot 5", years of service to the church and his people has resulted in him being slightly skinnier then the average dwarf. His muddy brown hair and scale mail armor are caked with the dust from the road acquired on his long journey from Helm's Hold. Strapped to his back is his shield dented from numerous conflicts and tied at his waist is his warhammer, a simply crafted weapon that hides its lethal legacy.
Listening to the conversation ahead of him Sindrall lets out a hearty belly laugh at the male human's response, he addresses the man: "Well met, I am Sindrall, follower of helm", raising his voice so all in the room can hear "and I too am not a dragon!"
Gorarel, awaiting a response from the room, cannot help but overhear the dwarf and let's out a small chuckle, turning halfway around:
"Indeed, well met"
Liliana is a little shorter than her average half-elf brethren at 5 ft 5 and a half, clad in dusty leather armor with her trusty short bow at her back. With red hair that looks brown from the mud caked in it and sharp bright green eyes scanning round the room taking note of any visible valuables and passing persons who are less careful with their possessions.
After being glanced at suspiciously by some ignorant human she winks and smiles charmingly making sure his wife can see the interaction. Human distracted she continues to subtly watch the the dwarf to work out where his gold purse and any valuables would be. Liliana snorts in amusement hearing the dwarf declare himself not a dragon, picturing said dwarf standing upon a table - breathing fire. "Not a dragon indeed" She giggle quietly to herself.
My apologies - assumed inn would also be a bar. A very posh town indeed.
Nodding at the barkeep, Thilael proceeds to pour some of his drink in a smaller container sitting on the bar. Looking tall even though he sits at the bar, with a height of probably 6 feet and a half feet, he is a young fellow, a high elf most likely just reaching the mature age of around 100 years old. His white hair is neatly braided into a long ponytail resting straight down on his back. He's dressed in cloth garments with strange runic patterns and leather pants. An interesting mix of scholarly and adventurer-looking clothes. To add to this, resting on the bar there is an intricately looking quarterstaff that is most likely his, and tied to his waist is a long and pointy rapier that reached all the way down to the floor, scratching it in places. As soon as he finished pouring the water into the other container a white owl appeared out of nowhere to satisfy its thirst. Thilael started to gently pet the small owl on its wings.
He then turned back to the barkeep, As you can see my Snow Owl, Fayeth, is excited to see the white mountains around your village. Quite a majestic view, I must say. You must know your mountains really well here. Anything out of the ordinary with these ones?
Gramm enters the quiet tavern and looks around. Used to a reaction when a tall dragonborn enters a room he shrugs and snorts, a small burst of flame emitting from his snout. He walks over to the bar and motions to the barkeep.
A lively establish I see. What manner of ales do you have to ease my thirst?
Gramm shrugs off his pack and props his greataxe against the bar waiting for the barkeep to bring some refreshment
He nods to the tall elf who seems very busy decanting drinks into various containers. Nice owl
Gorarel, Sindrall, Liliana
Perception for Liliana: 13 - Liliana does not see any valuables on the villagers or at the townhall entrance.
Just as Liliana turns her attention to the conversation inside the hall, she hears a grunt as the passerby gets an elbow to his ribs from his wife.
Harbin says: "Is that a colleague of yours, Gorarel? Tell me quickly if you have any news of that cursed dragon, I'm quite busy."
Gorarel turns his attention back to the door and says: "It is not someone I am yet acquainted with. Is this really a conversation to shout through the door, or would you consider letting me in just this once?"
Gramm, Sora, Thilael
The man behind the bar replies to Thilael with half a smile that doesn't touch his eyes: "You've picked a dangerous time if you want to go for a trek in the mountains. I haven't seen it myself, but word is a dragon made it's home somewhere in that range and is causing all kinds of trouble."
The bartender frowns as the newcomer leans his massive axe onto the bar, blade making a loud thump on contact with the floor. After a second look at the Dragonborn, he decides to stay silent about it. "Today we offer Bitter Black, Baldur's Gate Pale and Triboar Red Ale", he answers dutifully.
Gramm sits at the bar attempting to get comfortable on the rather small bar stool, gives up and decides to stand.
I'll take a flagon of Triboar Red, barkeep. You mentioned trouble with a dragon? Can you elaborate?
Gorarel - Harbin answers curtly, without a second's thought: "I can hear you fine through the door. Do you have news, or not?"
Gramm - The barkeep disappears for a few seconds in an adjacent room and comes back with a large wooden mug filled to the brim, ale hidden under a pink head. "Not much is known, I'm afraid. A few people went missing in the mountains. The worst is, since its arrival, orc raids have been more frequent, and a manticore has been seen in the hills, too. That will be 2 silver."
Sora sits at the table toying with her food, her mind distracted. She is half-elf but to most she looks human. With light auburn hair and blue eyes, only slight point in her ears was the giveaway to a keen eye.
Whilst pushing a half eaten mushroom around her plate, she surveys the room. Her attention is caught by a high-elf talking to the barman.
As she strains to listen in on their conversation, a dragonborn enters the inn. For a split second her eyes flicker to her trusty glaive, propped up against the wall. Her attention then returns to the conversation at the bar.
Sindrall observing the conversation between the human and the man behind the door adds "Yes come on man, I have traveled many miles for information and all this talk of dragons has peaked my interest" turning to the human at the door Sindrall offers up his hand in friendship "I am curious as to what has scared this poor individual, do you have any idea?"
Gorarel evidently frustrated at Harbin: "No news of any more dragon sightings on my journey. Though there is trouble brewing in the mountains; more disturbances".
Gorarel turns to Sindrall: "You've come at an interesting time my friend."
Gorarel shakes his hand: "If you are looking for information on the area, I am able to help you. I am a ranger and know these mountains as good as anyone."
"Well, I hope that dragon stays away until someone kills it or I die of old age.", you hear Harbin grumbling. "If you're looking for work, check the job board. See if you find some dawdlers at the inn to help you, I don't want you ending up as dragon dinner. Or manticore, if the rumours are true. Go now!", he says dismissively.
To Harbin sarcastically: "It's been a pleasure as always!"
To Sindrall, with a much kinder tone: "Want to join me?"
Sindrall takes a close look at the human in front of him, he has the look of one who has been in the wild sometime and could be useful in his quest, there is something else about him that Sindrall can't quite put his finger on.
Knowing his task will be easier with allies, Sindrall extends his hand once more and says "Aye, it would be a pleasure to work with others once more"