On the Sword Coast, the Trade Way provides a clear route between the great cities of Neverwinter, Waterdeep, and Baldur's Gate. The road, though well traveled, is fraught with the perils of banditry, wild animals, and the occasional downturn in weather. Merchants and travelers alike form large caravans that travel the route from Neverwinter as far south as Amn, navigating the wilderness with safety in numbers. It is on one of these caravans that this story begins, having left Neverwinter in the previous months before picking up a number of merchant wagons, diplomats, adventurers, and traveling families in Waterdeep. The bulk of the wagons departed once reaching Baldur's Gate; the caravan left the port city with only a single wagon and a number of adventurers.
For the past several days, the wagon has been traveling a road that winds lazily along the rolling grasslands of the Greenfields. The wagon's driver, a middle-aged halfling man named Enom Tobun, points out a large hill in the distance as he feeds the horses and hitches the wagon for the night. "If the weather holds up, we should reach that 'fore the sun goes down tomorrow. You can see Greenest from the top of it," he says with his typical smile. "Quaint little farm town, full of pleasant people. It's always a fun trip to cart supplies to a place like that."
A cool air replaces the warmth of the day, and he starts his usual fire, inviting those traveling alongside him to eat and chat before retiring for the evening.
"I've made this trip before, but it's rare to have so many accompany me. I'll certainly miss having so many weapons at my side next time. I'll be heading back to Baldur's Gate after a night or two off, if any of you wish to make the trip back, though I suspect you didn't come all this way without a destination in mind. What brings you all out so far, anyway? You heading all the way to Amn?" he asks.
OOC: With your first post, introduce your character to your fellow players along with your response to Enom. What do they look like, why are they traveling toward Greenest, and what are they thinking? Where did your character join this caravan, and what responsibilities have they had within it? In some cases, they may not be in the caravan so much as they are following it. Don't be shy with your conversations here. Try not to be too much of a mysterious stranger with your backstories. The more information you learn from each other, the more cohesive you will become, and the more of an advantage you will have going forward.
Yevele, a tall, auburn haired human female quietly says "I'm stopping at Greenest. I'm supposed to meet another monk there. He has requested the assistance of my order, with our abbot sending me to Greenest." As she finishing talking, the young woman adjusts the strap on her backpack and shifts her 6 foot long quarter staff from her right hand to the left. The young monk is dressed in a black shirt and black trousers, with a black moon sewn into the shirt. Aside from her backpack and staff, she has a quiver of darts on her back, with a curious looking carved wooden stick attached to the pack.
Throughout the journey, Yevele has been fairly quiet, taking in the surroundings on this, her first trip away from the monastery where she was raised. She answers questions asked with a directness and bluntness that at times can seem rude. Whenever there is work to be done, the young woman has always jumped into lend a hand. While traveling and in the evenings, Yevele has shown an ability to blend into the background, which seems somewhat surprising given her 6'2" height and 200 lb frame. In the mornings, the monk is usually one of the first ones up, spending time practicing her martial skills, both with and without the quarterstaff.
Vercinius Thrax awoke from a nightmare in a state of shock, he breathed heavily, he could tell from his hoarse throat that he had been growling and snarling in his sleep, and he had further tattered his bedroll during the night. He sat up and took a deep drink from his water-skin and stared up at the first streaks of dawn on the horizon. Though he was looking at the calm night sky, all that he could think of were apocalyptic horrors from his nightmares, and the ten eyes he saw staring back at him before he awoke.
He rose and cast mending on his shredded bedroll. He then takes his holy emblem of Gond from his pack and sits to meditate facing the rising sun. He concentrates on his divine connection with Gond, and seeks guidance from his deity on what these dreams mean. As he sits and he feels the warmth of the rising sun slowly wash over him, he receives an answer from his divine patron, the same one he had received every time after the nightmares, the same one that had caused him to leave his fellow tribesman several weeks ago... it compelled him to go to the town of Greenest.
Vercinius Thrax rose back up, still uneasy from the violent nightmares but steadied by divine reassurance he set out to rejoin the caravan. He had left knowing that the softer ones he was traveling with would be disturbed by the recurring night terrors that haunted him. Though he was not used to traveling with anyone besides his fellow Lizardfolk tribesman, he had come to find the company of the humanoid types to be interesting, and he looked forward to rejoining them. There were skilled and capable people traveling with the caravan, and Thrax had shown them his crafting skills and learned from their own techniques. He also provided them with healing and bestowed them with the blessings of Gond, and it was always good to spread his blessings. He broke down his modest camp site, and made his way back to the caravan.
Upon seeing his fellow travelers he greeted his new companions as warmly as he knew how, which was a fierce snarl followed by bellowing a short sermon “I have returned comrades, I see there were no attacks in the night which have lowered our numbers. Gond’s blessings upon us all! Let him guide our journey to Greenest and may he yet stave off coming of the great doom!” He threw his arms up to the sky, and let out a loud roar.
Thrax was a towering Lizardfolk, with rough green scales with purple hues along the crown of his head, and along his back and shoulders. He had three prominent horns protruding from his skull, and along his arms were two intricate tattoos. His right arm was adorned with a hammer striking an anvil, and his left arm was covered with a mosaic of bones with a large Lizardfolk skull. He wore a tribal necklace laden with Lizardfolk teeth, those of his fallen comrades and passed kin. He also wore an iron chain with a bronze emblem of Gond, the deity of crafting.
Usually, as soon as the process of camp began, the tall, strong and relatively young dwarf, Rogram, was quick to employ his unseen servant and prestidigitation to help create comfort for everyone. Tonight, however, he is obviously distracted, and his helpfulness is replaced by quiet solitude. He draws his long sword — crafted by himself, he has revealed — and proceeds to practice a series of flourishes and tricks with the blade on the edge of camp. Between each maneuver, his eyes stray to the hill.
When the food is served, Rogram sheathes his sword and joins the others around the fire to eat. “I’m from Greenest,” he reveals later, speaking with no energy. “Usually, my uncle travels in these caravans, but he is injured, so I volunteered to take his place. As soon as I’m back, I’ll return to the forge ... to my apprenticeship.” It’s clear this is not good news.
He looks around at the others, forcing a little energy into his words. “I’ve enjoyed my time escorting the wagon. If any of you need a guide in Greenest, I will assist in whatever way I can.”
As per usual, Rogram’s gaze tends to linger and rest on Dern. To Dern, however, Rogram would be a curiosity. He is almost certainly not a full-blooded dwarf. While he has dwarves’ features, he is too tall and not as broad as he should be. And his beard is more like a human’s. And his clan name, Hloradur, meaning lost in Dwarvish, is also curious.
With an uneven and heavy gait, Dern moved over to the group and dropped another small log onto the fire before dropping the rest of the freshly gathered firewood nearby. With a grunt, he settled down close by and downed a few gulps of water. His brown hair was shaved down on the sides and pulled back on top to be out of the way. His beard remained mostly unadorned save for a few bits of blue ribbon braided in. His one good eye glittered in the fire light while the other remained covered by a simple black patch. This along with his metal prosthetic leg made it clear he had seen his fair share of hardship.
During most travels and quiet moments, Dern tends to turn inward. Ever since he was picked up by Enom, though, the Dwarf has learned to open up some. It was hard to ignore the motley group anyway. The hardest hurdle to over come, though, was Thrax. The scaly priest reminded Dern of far too much. Thrax was hard to dislike though. He was awkward and had his own way about him, but it was endearing. There have been many points along the trip that had nights like these where the folks of the caravan gathered 'round to trade stories. Dern was no different, and soon enough his tale of peril and loss would be revealed to any who would list. Dragons had destroyed his home, killed his kin and plundered his wealth. None more so earned his ire than a particular dragon of pure white scales that claimed his eye and injured his leg. It was this experience that made it so difficult to accept Thrax, but Dern could at least respect the lizard for his knack and worship of craft. Thrax wasn't dragon kin after all, it seemed, and eventually Dern would set aside most of his distrust.
During the days of travel many will have seen and spoken to Smoke. He is a Tabaxi with black fur and blue eyes. Has a toned build but not bulky and seems to have quite the endurance as he rarely sits still and always seems cheerfull. Smoke will constantly be going around doing small tasks such as collecting herbs or helping to load/unload when the caravan makes a stop. Not because hes good at it but always to strike up a conversation with someone.
For those that pay attention Smoke would never go to initiate a conversation with the same person twice. Always making sure he speaks to new people getting their stories and sharing some of his own. Since he does not look the same as others travelling the caravan he can often be seen interacting with the few children on the trip. Those that travelled with their families would undoubtedly be curious about Smoke and others that look different such as Thrax. Therefore he would share his cheerfull nature and let the children know there is nothing to fear. Hoping they would grow up to respect those that look different.
Smoke wears a sleeveless leather armor and beneath it a belt with several small bags along with a horn and his rapier that he has not taking out the entire journey. His pants are simple with one modification, a hole in the back so his tail could move freely. In order to strike up a conversation he always helps out with the food, to prepare and cook it. This would always be a great chance to tell a tale to the people gathered around the fire. People will learn that Smoke has knowledge of dragons, in fact he has spent some time studying them since they have always fascinated Smoke.
When the food is ready Smoke will grab some and sit down. As he is about to eat he stops himself closes his eyes for but a second, then gets back up and starts to make sure all others have some food first. Seemingly forcing himself to put himself last. When everyone has something to eat he will finally sit down at the fire with Enom.
He will listen to the others respond to Enom and when its his turn will explain his own travel. Well as some of you may already know ive joined this caravan at Waterdeep, Which might seem strange since im from Daggerford, he gets up from his seat waving his hands and tail around as he speaks to somehow make it more clear. I mean who would travel north to Waterdeep just to get on a caravan going south again, that would be silly. He puts on a fake smile at his own words. Truth is im .. Smoke stops moving as much and his tail goes downward. ..Im here for a friend. He takes out a lock blond hair from one of his bags clear for all to see but holds it close to himself and brushes his fingers through the strands of hair. For the first time this journey Smoke seems to be struggling a bit with words, something others might not of expected to ever see. He looks up with sorrow in his eyes but clearly opening up and putting it all on the table. My friend died some time ago.. he sighs then picks up his words again ..when i went to tell her husband in Waterdeep i discovered he was murdered. The trail has led me to believe the people responsible can be found near Greenest. Im not really sure where to start there though. He looks around to find Rogram. I would not mind having a guide if you could spare the time, i have some coin. Its not much but id be happy to pay you for your troubles.
Thia Moonsong is tall and lithe, with straight blonde hair which comes down to her shoulders. Depending on her mood, which you've seen seems to change daily, she will either wear it straight down to cover up her slightly pointed ears, or will pull it back tightly into a ponytail which uncovers and exaggerates then. It almost seems as if by this gesture she is either embracing or trying to hide her half-elven heritage. She is a very beautiful woman but her personality is cold and distant, which detracts from her good looks. She is clothed in tight-fitting leathers, with an ornate rapier and dagger pairing at her belt. Across her back is slung a large pack which seems full.
Thia joined the caravan at Daggerford and during her trip south she has kept mostly to herself. She's clearly distracted by something and has something big on her mind. She chips in and helps around the campsite, doing tasks without being asked, but isn't particularly convivial. She's often got her head in a book (she seems to have a few with her), and, it seems, is often crunching on juicy red apples, which she seems to have an inexhaustible supply of.
It's clear that Thia is not one to open up to all and sundry easily, she has at least shared that she's heading south looking for a friend. Tonight, however, it seems the ever smiling Enom might have made a break through, as she's more forthcoming now than you have heard her before. Perhaps the fact that your destination is now just a day away has stirred something in her.
"I'm searching for a friend," she states simply. "A good friend, a childhood friend of mine. I grew up in the Misty Forest, near Daggerford and Talis and I were close. A while ago she went missing. I went looking for her, but in the process was attacked by cultists from some strange dragon-cult. I found a clue which led me to believe Talis has been kidnapped and maybe taken to Greenest. So that's my reason to be heading here. I have no idea what to expect in this village but I apologise if my expectations are far from a quaint little farm town." It's clear that Thia is a little on edge, and her mood appears to be simmering between angry, frustrated and worried. She's definitely not happy - but then that doesn't seem unusual for her.
Rogram jumps to his feet, his face going red. “I will not sit here and let you speak ill of Greenest,” the half-dwarf growls, staring daggers at Smoke and Thia. “My people are good and kind — not kidnappers and murderers!”
This is not the first time those who have spent some time with Rogram have witnessed this abrupt flare of anger. Though he is usually calm and pleasant, the bard’s fiery temper makes itself known on occasion. Sometimes the hard emotion is helpful, such as when the wagon’s wheel got stuck in a hole. Other times, such as this ...
Rogram turns his back on the fire and walks ten paces away before turning back and returning. “I, uh ... I apologize.” He looks at the tabaxi and half-elf before sitting down again. “But I’m sure you are both mistaken,” he says, now directing his comments to the fire. “The people of Greenest are good and kind. They welcomed my family in when they had nowhere else to turn. And they loved my mother.” He stops talking, not explaining, and puts more food in his mouth.
Thia looks up at the dwarf, calmly. She reaches into a pouch at her side and extracts a juicy red apple which she proceeds to shine on her leg. "Listen, Rogram," she begins, her voice flat but not unkind. "I'm not saying that the people of your village kidnapped my friend. In fact, I'm not sure what to believe at the moment. The clues I found were confusing and jumbled. I'm still trying to make sense of it all. All I do know is that they lead me here, to this quiet little village of Greenest. I'm coming here to see if I can find out what happened to her." She examines the apple, and apparently satisfied, takes a big bite out of it. Continuing to speak around the edges of half-eaten apple, she continues. "Who knows? Maybe Talis will be sat in the inn enjoying a nice glass of red wine and my worries will be over. But my gut tells me that's unlikely, and I've learned to trust my gut over the years."
Thia curls one side of her blonde hair back over her ear, revealing an upswept lobe, whilst the other stays hidden. The perceptive among you would have noticed by now this is a sign she is undecided or in two minds on something.
Smoke reacts shocked to Rograms words. Oh my, i didnt mean to offend. I was not being very precise. Ive heard rumors of this organisation being in the Green fields. Not the town itself just the area.Smoke looks downwards to the fire trying to remember his use of words. Near, im sure i said near.He mumbles
Its a case of misunderstanding i believe. He looks to his side with a grin. It reminds me of the time a local commander of Ascore travelled to the arn forest and was using his spyglass to scout ahead and saw an strange figure on the Nether Mountains.Smoke starts pacing from left to right as he tells his story. The commander was all frantic when he spoke to his guards about it. He waves his hands like 'jazz hands' to imitate the commander. He told his guard to 'find and bring him the creature he saw with a spyglass'.So his guards set off on their mission. Smoke walks back glimpsing around at those listening.
Many days they were gone.The commander getting more worried each day. Untill finally the guards had returned, but with sad news. The commander asked them how it was possible they had not seen anyone after spending days searching. The guards looked confused.Smoke puts on a confused face, putting his hands out and shrugging. The guard said, 'well we saw a few people but none with a spyglass'.Smoke starts giggling You see.. he told them to find..hehe the creature with a spyglass.. They didnt understand.. Smoke composes himself again. A simple misunderstanding you see.He says as he walks back to his seat.
Happened many years ago mind you. His voice going quiter as he sits down and stays quite for now.
Enom chuckles through the misunderstanding and walks toward the back of the wagon. He crawls through for a moment, rummaging for something, and soon emerges hefting a jug that is almost as large as he is.
"Aye, the people of Greenest are a kind lot, to be sure," he says when he reaches the group again. "It doesn't seem like much, but I've been through all kinds of little towns and farmlands that don't have the spirit that Greenest does. They don't have much of a tavern to speak of, though, so what say we drink up tonight? It wouldn't do to pass the entire route without a taste of any good stuff, would it?"
Enom listens to any further tales that are swapped while the mead is being shared, eventually returning the wagon for his night's rest beneath the starlit sky. "Do tread carefully when we arrive, will you? I dare say with this lot the people of Greenest will find tomorrow evening their most eventful in many years. It's not often they see so many adventurers, and that's without the missing and murdered folks!" he cautions.
Once again, despite his previous outburst, Rogram can’t help but smile as Smoke waxes poetic. And when Enom brings out the spirits, he relaxes, acting more like what everyone is used to. Before the night is over, he’ll speak with both Smoke and Thia to apologize once again.
Yevele tenses but relaxes as both Smoke and Thia apologize and everyone seems to relax again. The young woman marvels at how Smoke is able to make people smile and laugh on a regular basis. When the liquor is passed around to her, Yevele passes it on to the next person without drinking out of the jug. Shortly after the jug makes its appearance, the young woman heads over to her bed roll and heads to bed, planning on getting up early to go through her morning exercises.
Thrax sensed that Dern was uneasy near him. He understood that many humans, elves, and dwarves thought his people to be lowly savages, so he did his best to put him at ease by sharing the word of Gond. They spoke of metal crafting techniques and Thrax explained to the dwarf all of the welcome advancements metalworking had brought to his people. He could not tell if his conversation with the dwarf had helped or not.
Thrax does not drink from jug of ale being passed around. He could never understand why the humanoids would ever willingly dull their senses.
Thia spends most of the evening quietly observing the rest of this ragtag group. She does partake in the mead as it's passed around, but she doesn't overdo it. She listens intently and watches her companions and how they react and interact.
What a strange bunch of folk caravan guards are, she muses. I guess I should be happy; at least this lot can look after themselves, so we've had no real issues with bandits on the road. Oh Talis, where have you gone? It's so unlike you to just up and leave without word. And these strange dragon-cultists - what have they got to do with you leaving? Did they take you by force? Did you leave willingly with them? And where in Avernus are you? Oh, and note to self: mead and apples don't taste great together. Stick to the wine in future.
Thia beds down around the same time as the others, pulls a blanket out of her heavy pack and curls up trying to get some sleep before her watch comes around.
Dern gladly accepts a drink from the jug. Far be it for him to insult those being so hospitable. Not to mention the opportunity to slake his growing thirst for good Dwarven spirits. This isn't the same, obviously, but beggars can't be choosers. While taking his drink, however, he overhears Thia's tale. A cult of dragon worshippers? A kidnapping? Of course...leave it to those depraved enough to worship the flying fire-breathing nightmares to cause havoc in the dragon's names. Dern's thoughts have turned inward again. Soon enough, everything and every voice around him just dulls into dark shades of gray as he dives too deeply into his own internal dialogue again. It's only the laughter of Enom that snaps Dern out of his fugue.
The Dwarf offers the jug to Thrax, but to his surprise, the lizardfolk turns him down. Dern gives a shrug and then takes another sip on Thrax's behalf before passing the jug on to whomever would accept it. "Not much for the drink, lad?" he asks.
Rogram offers to take first watch. He’ll ritually cast unseen servant a couple times to help him keep the fire going while also continuing to practice his sword techniques.
Smoke will take a few small sips of mead as it passes, more to get a taste than anything else. He will stay a while and will go to sleep when most others have already. After finding a spot to sleep he will take his time preparing his bedroll and placing his belt and weapons at his side with care, making sure they are within reach.
Smoke will then lie on his back looking at the sky pondering for a bit on what might come in the days ahead and of the people he has met this journey. If possible he will avoid taking a watch and get a good nights rest trusting in the safety in numbers.
Night passes peacefully by amid the tall grass of the Greenfields, so much so that some hours of the night pass without a strict watch. The ever cheerful Enom gets the wagon moving early, and the hill on the horizon grows closer throughout the course of the day's travel.
Sundown is approaching when you finally top the rise. True to Enom's word, you can see the town of Greenest just a few short miles away. But instead of the pleasant, welcoming town spoken of by Rogram and Enom, you see columns of black smoke rising from burning buildings. Running figures, little more than dots at this distance, fill the town. Many of the figures move in a clear pattern toward a large keep that rests directly in the center of the small town. On the horizon, past the town, a dark, winged shape, silhouetted against the sunset, soars away from the town.
Rogram stares at his beautiful Greenest, the pillars of smoke, and the ant-like individuals scurrying. His hand slides into the component pounce on his belt, drawing out a pinch of sand. Quietly speaking the appropriate incantation and performing the quick, complicated hand gesture he hasn’t performed in years, he casts a spell on himself and then begins running toward his home at a surprising speed.
On the Sword Coast, the Trade Way provides a clear route between the great cities of Neverwinter, Waterdeep, and Baldur's Gate. The road, though well traveled, is fraught with the perils of banditry, wild animals, and the occasional downturn in weather. Merchants and travelers alike form large caravans that travel the route from Neverwinter as far south as Amn, navigating the wilderness with safety in numbers. It is on one of these caravans that this story begins, having left Neverwinter in the previous months before picking up a number of merchant wagons, diplomats, adventurers, and traveling families in Waterdeep. The bulk of the wagons departed once reaching Baldur's Gate; the caravan left the port city with only a single wagon and a number of adventurers.
For the past several days, the wagon has been traveling a road that winds lazily along the rolling grasslands of the Greenfields. The wagon's driver, a middle-aged halfling man named Enom Tobun, points out a large hill in the distance as he feeds the horses and hitches the wagon for the night. "If the weather holds up, we should reach that 'fore the sun goes down tomorrow. You can see Greenest from the top of it," he says with his typical smile. "Quaint little farm town, full of pleasant people. It's always a fun trip to cart supplies to a place like that."
A cool air replaces the warmth of the day, and he starts his usual fire, inviting those traveling alongside him to eat and chat before retiring for the evening.
"I've made this trip before, but it's rare to have so many accompany me. I'll certainly miss having so many weapons at my side next time. I'll be heading back to Baldur's Gate after a night or two off, if any of you wish to make the trip back, though I suspect you didn't come all this way without a destination in mind. What brings you all out so far, anyway? You heading all the way to Amn?" he asks.
Our Party:
Dern Cragmantle: Mountain Dwarf Fighter
Rogram Hloradur: Mountain Dwarf Bard
Smoke: Tabaxi Bard
Thia Moonsong: Half-Elf Bard
Thrax: Lizardfolk Cleric (Forge Domain)
Yevele: Human Monk
OOC: With your first post, introduce your character to your fellow players along with your response to Enom. What do they look like, why are they traveling toward Greenest, and what are they thinking? Where did your character join this caravan, and what responsibilities have they had within it? In some cases, they may not be in the caravan so much as they are following it. Don't be shy with your conversations here. Try not to be too much of a mysterious stranger with your backstories. The more information you learn from each other, the more cohesive you will become, and the more of an advantage you will have going forward.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Yevele, a tall, auburn haired human female quietly says "I'm stopping at Greenest. I'm supposed to meet another monk there. He has requested the assistance of my order, with our abbot sending me to Greenest." As she finishing talking, the young woman adjusts the strap on her backpack and shifts her 6 foot long quarter staff from her right hand to the left. The young monk is dressed in a black shirt and black trousers, with a black moon sewn into the shirt. Aside from her backpack and staff, she has a quiver of darts on her back, with a curious looking carved wooden stick attached to the pack.
Throughout the journey, Yevele has been fairly quiet, taking in the surroundings on this, her first trip away from the monastery where she was raised. She answers questions asked with a directness and bluntness that at times can seem rude. Whenever there is work to be done, the young woman has always jumped into lend a hand. While traveling and in the evenings, Yevele has shown an ability to blend into the background, which seems somewhat surprising given her 6'2" height and 200 lb frame. In the mornings, the monk is usually one of the first ones up, spending time practicing her martial skills, both with and without the quarterstaff.
Vercinius Thrax awoke from a nightmare in a state of shock, he breathed heavily, he could tell from his hoarse throat that he had been growling and snarling in his sleep, and he had further tattered his bedroll during the night. He sat up and took a deep drink from his water-skin and stared up at the first streaks of dawn on the horizon. Though he was looking at the calm night sky, all that he could think of were apocalyptic horrors from his nightmares, and the ten eyes he saw staring back at him before he awoke.
He rose and cast mending on his shredded bedroll. He then takes his holy emblem of Gond from his pack and sits to meditate facing the rising sun. He concentrates on his divine connection with Gond, and seeks guidance from his deity on what these dreams mean. As he sits and he feels the warmth of the rising sun slowly wash over him, he receives an answer from his divine patron, the same one he had received every time after the nightmares, the same one that had caused him to leave his fellow tribesman several weeks ago... it compelled him to go to the town of Greenest.
Vercinius Thrax rose back up, still uneasy from the violent nightmares but steadied by divine reassurance he set out to rejoin the caravan. He had left knowing that the softer ones he was traveling with would be disturbed by the recurring night terrors that haunted him. Though he was not used to traveling with anyone besides his fellow Lizardfolk tribesman, he had come to find the company of the humanoid types to be interesting, and he looked forward to rejoining them. There were skilled and capable people traveling with the caravan, and Thrax had shown them his crafting skills and learned from their own techniques. He also provided them with healing and bestowed them with the blessings of Gond, and it was always good to spread his blessings. He broke down his modest camp site, and made his way back to the caravan.
Upon seeing his fellow travelers he greeted his new companions as warmly as he knew how, which was a fierce snarl followed by bellowing a short sermon “I have returned comrades, I see there were no attacks in the night which have lowered our numbers. Gond’s blessings upon us all! Let him guide our journey to Greenest and may he yet stave off coming of the great doom!” He threw his arms up to the sky, and let out a loud roar.
Thrax was a towering Lizardfolk, with rough green scales with purple hues along the crown of his head, and along his back and shoulders. He had three prominent horns protruding from his skull, and along his arms were two intricate tattoos. His right arm was adorned with a hammer striking an anvil, and his left arm was covered with a mosaic of bones with a large Lizardfolk skull. He wore a tribal necklace laden with Lizardfolk teeth, those of his fallen comrades and passed kin. He also wore an iron chain with a bronze emblem of Gond, the deity of crafting.![]()
Vercinius Thrax: Lizardfolk Cleric - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
L’Ouverture Zinn: Kobold Sorcerer - Waterdeep: Dungeon of the Mad Mage
Titus Vorenus: Dragonborn Paladin - Waterdeep: Dragon Heist
Nemean Goldenmane: Tabaxi Fighter - Lost Mine of Phandelver (Retired)
Usually, as soon as the process of camp began, the tall, strong and relatively young dwarf, Rogram, was quick to employ his unseen servant and prestidigitation to help create comfort for everyone. Tonight, however, he is obviously distracted, and his helpfulness is replaced by quiet solitude. He draws his long sword — crafted by himself, he has revealed — and proceeds to practice a series of flourishes and tricks with the blade on the edge of camp. Between each maneuver, his eyes stray to the hill.
When the food is served, Rogram sheathes his sword and joins the others around the fire to eat. “I’m from Greenest,” he reveals later, speaking with no energy. “Usually, my uncle travels in these caravans, but he is injured, so I volunteered to take his place. As soon as I’m back, I’ll return to the forge ... to my apprenticeship.” It’s clear this is not good news.
He looks around at the others, forcing a little energy into his words. “I’ve enjoyed my time escorting the wagon. If any of you need a guide in Greenest, I will assist in whatever way I can.”
As per usual, Rogram’s gaze tends to linger and rest on Dern. To Dern, however, Rogram would be a curiosity. He is almost certainly not a full-blooded dwarf. While he has dwarves’ features, he is too tall and not as broad as he should be. And his beard is more like a human’s. And his clan name, Hloradur, meaning lost in Dwarvish, is also curious.
With an uneven and heavy gait, Dern moved over to the group and dropped another small log onto the fire before dropping the rest of the freshly gathered firewood nearby. With a grunt, he settled down close by and downed a few gulps of water. His brown hair was shaved down on the sides and pulled back on top to be out of the way. His beard remained mostly unadorned save for a few bits of blue ribbon braided in. His one good eye glittered in the fire light while the other remained covered by a simple black patch. This along with his metal prosthetic leg made it clear he had seen his fair share of hardship.
During most travels and quiet moments, Dern tends to turn inward. Ever since he was picked up by Enom, though, the Dwarf has learned to open up some. It was hard to ignore the motley group anyway. The hardest hurdle to over come, though, was Thrax. The scaly priest reminded Dern of far too much. Thrax was hard to dislike though. He was awkward and had his own way about him, but it was endearing. There have been many points along the trip that had nights like these where the folks of the caravan gathered 'round to trade stories. Dern was no different, and soon enough his tale of peril and loss would be revealed to any who would list. Dragons had destroyed his home, killed his kin and plundered his wealth. None more so earned his ire than a particular dragon of pure white scales that claimed his eye and injured his leg. It was this experience that made it so difficult to accept Thrax, but Dern could at least respect the lizard for his knack and worship of craft. Thrax wasn't dragon kin after all, it seemed, and eventually Dern would set aside most of his distrust.
During the days of travel many will have seen and spoken to Smoke. He is a Tabaxi with black fur and blue eyes. Has a toned build but not bulky and seems to have quite the endurance as he rarely sits still and always seems cheerfull. Smoke will constantly be going around doing small tasks such as collecting herbs or helping to load/unload when the caravan makes a stop. Not because hes good at it but always to strike up a conversation with someone.
For those that pay attention Smoke would never go to initiate a conversation with the same person twice. Always making sure he speaks to new people getting their stories and sharing some of his own. Since he does not look the same as others travelling the caravan he can often be seen interacting with the few children on the trip. Those that travelled with their families would undoubtedly be curious about Smoke and others that look different such as Thrax.
Therefore he would share his cheerfull nature and let the children know there is nothing to fear. Hoping they would grow up to respect those that look different.
Smoke wears a sleeveless leather armor and beneath it a belt with several small bags along with a horn and his rapier that he has not taking out the entire journey. His pants are simple with one modification, a hole in the back so his tail could move freely. In order to strike up a conversation he always helps out with the food, to prepare and cook it. This would always be a great chance to tell a tale to the people gathered around the fire. People will learn that Smoke has knowledge of dragons, in fact he has spent some time studying them since they have always fascinated Smoke.
When the food is ready Smoke will grab some and sit down. As he is about to eat he stops himself closes his eyes for but a second, then gets back up and starts to make sure all others have some food first. Seemingly forcing himself to put himself last. When everyone has something to eat he will finally sit down at the fire with Enom.
He will listen to the others respond to Enom and when its his turn will explain his own travel. Well as some of you may already know ive joined this caravan at Waterdeep, Which might seem strange since im from Daggerford, he gets up from his seat waving his hands and tail around as he speaks to somehow make it more clear. I mean who would travel north to Waterdeep just to get on a caravan going south again, that would be silly. He puts on a fake smile at his own words. Truth is im .. Smoke stops moving as much and his tail goes downward. ..Im here for a friend. He takes out a lock blond hair from one of his bags clear for all to see but holds it close to himself and brushes his fingers through the strands of hair. For the first time this journey Smoke seems to be struggling a bit with words, something others might not of expected to ever see. He looks up with sorrow in his eyes but clearly opening up and putting it all on the table. My friend died some time ago.. he sighs then picks up his words again ..when i went to tell her husband in Waterdeep i discovered he was murdered. The trail has led me to believe the people responsible can be found near Greenest. Im not really sure where to start there though. He looks around to find Rogram. I would not mind having a guide if you could spare the time, i have some coin. Its not much but id be happy to pay you for your troubles.
Thia Moonsong is tall and lithe, with straight blonde hair which comes down to her shoulders. Depending on her mood, which you've seen seems to change daily, she will either wear it straight down to cover up her slightly pointed ears, or will pull it back tightly into a ponytail which uncovers and exaggerates then. It almost seems as if by this gesture she is either embracing or trying to hide her half-elven heritage. She is a very beautiful woman but her personality is cold and distant, which detracts from her good looks. She is clothed in tight-fitting leathers, with an ornate rapier and dagger pairing at her belt. Across her back is slung a large pack which seems full.
Thia joined the caravan at Daggerford and during her trip south she has kept mostly to herself. She's clearly distracted by something and has something big on her mind. She chips in and helps around the campsite, doing tasks without being asked, but isn't particularly convivial. She's often got her head in a book (she seems to have a few with her), and, it seems, is often crunching on juicy red apples, which she seems to have an inexhaustible supply of.
It's clear that Thia is not one to open up to all and sundry easily, she has at least shared that she's heading south looking for a friend. Tonight, however, it seems the ever smiling Enom might have made a break through, as she's more forthcoming now than you have heard her before. Perhaps the fact that your destination is now just a day away has stirred something in her.
"I'm searching for a friend," she states simply. "A good friend, a childhood friend of mine. I grew up in the Misty Forest, near Daggerford and Talis and I were close. A while ago she went missing. I went looking for her, but in the process was attacked by cultists from some strange dragon-cult. I found a clue which led me to believe Talis has been kidnapped and maybe taken to Greenest. So that's my reason to be heading here. I have no idea what to expect in this village but I apologise if my expectations are far from a quaint little farm town." It's clear that Thia is a little on edge, and her mood appears to be simmering between angry, frustrated and worried. She's definitely not happy - but then that doesn't seem unusual for her.
My Homebrew World: The World of Rodinia
Novels Published: Reynard's Fate, Kita's Honour and Callindrill
Rogram jumps to his feet, his face going red. “I will not sit here and let you speak ill of Greenest,” the half-dwarf growls, staring daggers at Smoke and Thia. “My people are good and kind — not kidnappers and murderers!”
This is not the first time those who have spent some time with Rogram have witnessed this abrupt flare of anger. Though he is usually calm and pleasant, the bard’s fiery temper makes itself known on occasion. Sometimes the hard emotion is helpful, such as when the wagon’s wheel got stuck in a hole. Other times, such as this ...
Rogram turns his back on the fire and walks ten paces away before turning back and returning. “I, uh ... I apologize.” He looks at the tabaxi and half-elf before sitting down again. “But I’m sure you are both mistaken,” he says, now directing his comments to the fire. “The people of Greenest are good and kind. They welcomed my family in when they had nowhere else to turn. And they loved my mother.” He stops talking, not explaining, and puts more food in his mouth.
Thia looks up at the dwarf, calmly. She reaches into a pouch at her side and extracts a juicy red apple which she proceeds to shine on her leg. "Listen, Rogram," she begins, her voice flat but not unkind. "I'm not saying that the people of your village kidnapped my friend. In fact, I'm not sure what to believe at the moment. The clues I found were confusing and jumbled. I'm still trying to make sense of it all. All I do know is that they lead me here, to this quiet little village of Greenest. I'm coming here to see if I can find out what happened to her." She examines the apple, and apparently satisfied, takes a big bite out of it. Continuing to speak around the edges of half-eaten apple, she continues. "Who knows? Maybe Talis will be sat in the inn enjoying a nice glass of red wine and my worries will be over. But my gut tells me that's unlikely, and I've learned to trust my gut over the years."
Thia curls one side of her blonde hair back over her ear, revealing an upswept lobe, whilst the other stays hidden. The perceptive among you would have noticed by now this is a sign she is undecided or in two minds on something.
My Homebrew World: The World of Rodinia
Novels Published: Reynard's Fate, Kita's Honour and Callindrill
Smoke reacts shocked to Rograms words. Oh my, i didnt mean to offend. I was not being very precise. Ive heard rumors of this organisation being in the Green fields. Not the town itself just the area. Smoke looks downwards to the fire trying to remember his use of words. Near, im sure i said near. He mumbles
Its a case of misunderstanding i believe. He looks to his side with a grin. It reminds me of the time a local commander of Ascore travelled to the arn forest and was using his spyglass to scout ahead and saw an strange figure on the Nether Mountains. Smoke starts pacing from left to right as he tells his story. The commander was all frantic when he spoke to his guards about it. He waves his hands like 'jazz hands' to imitate the commander. He told his guard to 'find and bring him the creature he saw with a spyglass'. So his guards set off on their mission. Smoke walks back glimpsing around at those listening.
Many days they were gone. The commander getting more worried each day. Untill finally the guards had returned, but with sad news. The commander asked them how it was possible they had not seen anyone after spending days searching. The guards looked confused. Smoke puts on a confused face, putting his hands out and shrugging. The guard said, 'well we saw a few people but none with a spyglass'. Smoke starts giggling You see.. he told them to find.. hehe the creature with a spyglass.. They didnt understand..
Smoke composes himself again. A simple misunderstanding you see. He says as he walks back to his seat.
Happened many years ago mind you. His voice going quiter as he sits down and stays quite for now.
Enom chuckles through the misunderstanding and walks toward the back of the wagon. He crawls through for a moment, rummaging for something, and soon emerges hefting a jug that is almost as large as he is.
"Aye, the people of Greenest are a kind lot, to be sure," he says when he reaches the group again. "It doesn't seem like much, but I've been through all kinds of little towns and farmlands that don't have the spirit that Greenest does. They don't have much of a tavern to speak of, though, so what say we drink up tonight? It wouldn't do to pass the entire route without a taste of any good stuff, would it?"
Enom listens to any further tales that are swapped while the mead is being shared, eventually returning the wagon for his night's rest beneath the starlit sky. "Do tread carefully when we arrive, will you? I dare say with this lot the people of Greenest will find tomorrow evening their most eventful in many years. It's not often they see so many adventurers, and that's without the missing and murdered folks!" he cautions.
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Once again, despite his previous outburst, Rogram can’t help but smile as Smoke waxes poetic. And when Enom brings out the spirits, he relaxes, acting more like what everyone is used to. Before the night is over, he’ll speak with both Smoke and Thia to apologize once again.
Yevele tenses but relaxes as both Smoke and Thia apologize and everyone seems to relax again. The young woman marvels at how Smoke is able to make people smile and laugh on a regular basis. When the liquor is passed around to her, Yevele passes it on to the next person without drinking out of the jug. Shortly after the jug makes its appearance, the young woman heads over to her bed roll and heads to bed, planning on getting up early to go through her morning exercises.
Thrax sensed that Dern was uneasy near him. He understood that many humans, elves, and dwarves thought his people to be lowly savages, so he did his best to put him at ease by sharing the word of Gond. They spoke of metal crafting techniques and Thrax explained to the dwarf all of the welcome advancements metalworking had brought to his people. He could not tell if his conversation with the dwarf had helped or not.
Thrax does not drink from jug of ale being passed around. He could never understand why the humanoids would ever willingly dull their senses.
Vercinius Thrax: Lizardfolk Cleric - Hoard of the Dragon Queen
L’Ouverture Zinn: Kobold Sorcerer - Waterdeep: Dungeon of the Mad Mage
Titus Vorenus: Dragonborn Paladin - Waterdeep: Dragon Heist
Nemean Goldenmane: Tabaxi Fighter - Lost Mine of Phandelver (Retired)
Thia spends most of the evening quietly observing the rest of this ragtag group. She does partake in the mead as it's passed around, but she doesn't overdo it. She listens intently and watches her companions and how they react and interact.
What a strange bunch of folk caravan guards are, she muses. I guess I should be happy; at least this lot can look after themselves, so we've had no real issues with bandits on the road. Oh Talis, where have you gone? It's so unlike you to just up and leave without word. And these strange dragon-cultists - what have they got to do with you leaving? Did they take you by force? Did you leave willingly with them? And where in Avernus are you? Oh, and note to self: mead and apples don't taste great together. Stick to the wine in future.
Thia beds down around the same time as the others, pulls a blanket out of her heavy pack and curls up trying to get some sleep before her watch comes around.
My Homebrew World: The World of Rodinia
Novels Published: Reynard's Fate, Kita's Honour and Callindrill
Dern gladly accepts a drink from the jug. Far be it for him to insult those being so hospitable. Not to mention the opportunity to slake his growing thirst for good Dwarven spirits. This isn't the same, obviously, but beggars can't be choosers. While taking his drink, however, he overhears Thia's tale. A cult of dragon worshippers? A kidnapping? Of course...leave it to those depraved enough to worship the flying fire-breathing nightmares to cause havoc in the dragon's names. Dern's thoughts have turned inward again. Soon enough, everything and every voice around him just dulls into dark shades of gray as he dives too deeply into his own internal dialogue again. It's only the laughter of Enom that snaps Dern out of his fugue.
The Dwarf offers the jug to Thrax, but to his surprise, the lizardfolk turns him down. Dern gives a shrug and then takes another sip on Thrax's behalf before passing the jug on to whomever would accept it. "Not much for the drink, lad?" he asks.
Rogram offers to take first watch. He’ll ritually cast unseen servant a couple times to help him keep the fire going while also continuing to practice his sword techniques.
Smoke will take a few small sips of mead as it passes, more to get a taste than anything else. He will stay a while and will go to sleep when most others have already. After finding a spot to sleep he will take his time preparing his bedroll and placing his belt and weapons at his side with care, making sure they are within reach.
Smoke will then lie on his back looking at the sky pondering for a bit on what might come in the days ahead and of the people he has met this journey. If possible he will avoid taking a watch and get a good nights rest trusting in the safety in numbers.
Night passes peacefully by amid the tall grass of the Greenfields, so much so that some hours of the night pass without a strict watch. The ever cheerful Enom gets the wagon moving early, and the hill on the horizon grows closer throughout the course of the day's travel.
Sundown is approaching when you finally top the rise. True to Enom's word, you can see the town of Greenest just a few short miles away. But instead of the pleasant, welcoming town spoken of by Rogram and Enom, you see columns of black smoke rising from burning buildings. Running figures, little more than dots at this distance, fill the town. Many of the figures move in a clear pattern toward a large keep that rests directly in the center of the small town. On the horizon, past the town, a dark, winged shape, silhouetted against the sunset, soars away from the town.
Greenest is under attack.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Rogram stares at his beautiful Greenest, the pillars of smoke, and the ant-like individuals scurrying. His hand slides into the component pounce on his belt, drawing out a pinch of sand. Quietly speaking the appropriate incantation and performing the quick, complicated hand gesture he hasn’t performed in years, he casts a spell on himself and then begins running toward his home at a surprising speed.
Action: longstrider