This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Legacy of Phandelver's Pact
The Village of Phandalin, with the ruins of Tresendar Manor looming in the background
The Sword Coast. Across the length and breadth of Faerûn the very name is synonymous with danger. Adventure. Fame and fortune. From the Spine of the World in the North, south to the verdant lands of Amn, the region known as the Sword Coast lies at the western edge of the continent along the Sea of Swords.
The great cities of the North lie scattered like jewels throughout, each drawing countless adventurers who venture forth against challenges unknown, seeking to loot the ruins of the civilizations upon whose bones are built the present-day realms of man, elf, dwarf and even more exotic races.
Just a few days travel south of the city of Neverwinter, in the northern foothills of the Sword Mountains lies the nondescript mining settlement of Phandalin. Although the village might not look like much, it provides a safe haven for adventurers eager to explore the surrounding wilderness, which is home to many old ruins and abandoned dwarven mines. In the last three or four years, hardy settlers from the cities of Neverwinter and Waterdeep have begun the hard work of reclaiming the ruins of Phandalin. A bustling frontier settlement has grown up on the site of the old town, and is home now to farmers, woodcutters, fur traders, and prospectors drawn by stories of gold and platinum in the foothills of the Sword Mountains.
Posting Example
In order to keep things neat, and improve the readability of posts, the example below shows how various elements should be formatted - this isn't set in stone, but is the format I use in my own posts where possible. * Use of a unique color for your character's speech * Italics to indicate thoughts *Spells such as Light, skills, etc referenced with tags to link DDB content where possible (Tag listing in the Play-by-Post FAQ >here<) *Dice rolls in-line, in [brackets] and labeled ------------------------------------ These runty little goblins will be the death of us yet, thought Hedrik as he moved in front of the wizard. There were four of them, and more coming out of the cave mouth even as he moved into a protective position. "Stay behind me Lethan, and we might just survive. Hopefully I can scare some of them off and we won't have to fight the all."
Yelling his battle cry and banging sword on shield [Intimidation: 16?], Hedrik held his ground near the wizard. As the first goblin got close, he took a swing at the ugly thing, hoping to kill it as quickly a possible so he could move on to the next. [Longsword Attack: 7 Damage: 9] ------------------------------------ Since you won't be sure of success in many cases, try not to write the results of your actions. As DM, I'll post a follow-up which details what happened. The Intimidation check up above may have scared off a few of the goblins, for example, and the attack may or may not have hit the goblin, and a successful hit may or may not have killed it.
The City of Neverwinter. 1491, Year of the Scarlet Witch.
It's been over 30 years since the once proud city was laid low, nearly destroyed by the eruption of nearby Mount Hotenow. Thousands died in the chaos and the very ground of the city was torn asunder. But the people of the North are a special breed and in the years since, much has been rebuilt. People returned and resettled, trade resumed and life goes on in the face of adversity, championed by Lord-Protector Dagult Neverember.
Each of you has found your way to Neverwinter for your own reasons, as so many would-be heroes has done before you. Day by day, your coin pouches have grown ever lighter and the need to find employment of some sort has grown as well. Fortunately, there is always work of one sort or another to be found, and you've all been directed to the The Fallen Tower, a well-known tavern located within the Tower District of the city. At seven bells this evening, you are to meet one Gundren Rockseeker, a dwarf hailing from the nearby town of Phadalin, regarding possible employment. Looking up at the sun, peeking through broken clouds, you see you have a few hours to spare before your meeting...
[OOC: There is your intro everyone. Feel free to start posting a bit of exploration of the city, finding your way to the tavern, and/or meeting and interacting with each other (or not). Let's get this thing rolling!]
To feed his burning desire to expand his knowledge of the magic arts, Gorgar chooses to spend his last moments of free time searching for the hidden shops and traders of antiquities. He is well aware of the hidden gems that can be found within these dingy spots. Often these traders can only see the surface value of things and have no idea of the underlying power that some items possess.
Aera goes to the merchants, hoping to find a decent pan flute to play at the tavern. As he trudges along the cobblestone roads, he notices a halfling playing a lyre.
Gorgar takes his time exploring the market district. Walking the streets, he passes a number of shops large and small dealing in antiquities, clothing and assorted sundries. Browsing through a few that seem to hold promise, he begins to feel his search will be fruitless. Nearly ready to give up, he decides to try one last shop, with the unlikely moniker of Morteen's Boutique and Haberdashery. As it's name suggests, much of the space is taken up with display of silks and fabrics, buttons, ribbon and various other goods for sewing, as well as a variety of finished goods for more refined tastes. There is, however, a side room with a modest collection of clothing that appears to be more promising.
After searching through the offerings, two items draw his attention, though there is nothing much of note in their appearance. One is a pair of heavy black leather boots, mixed in a pile of others, well-worn and non-descript. The other is a heavy wool shawl, dyed in autumnal reds and oranges. It too looks well-used, and still faintly smells of lavender from the previous owner.
Aera wanders the streets, no particular destination in mind at first. His avian nature draws the occasional stare or sideways glance. His kind are rare, though not entirely unknown to those more well-traveled. Those who do goggle at the sight of him say nothing, perhaps put off by the fierce look in his eyes, or the thought of how his aquiline beak could tear into their flesh. He soon hears the strains of music drifting up the street and catches sight of a youngish seeming halfling girl strumming a melancholy tune on a lyre. As he approaches, Aera sees a hat upon the ground at her feet, the glint of a few coins visible within. It doesn't seem the girl has been particularly successful in her busking today, perhaps on account of her choice of song.
"Good eve, my fine feathered friend! Well met! Can I interest you in a bit of birdsong perhaps?" She sets the lyre aside and plucks a small flute from a pocket of the bright vest she wears, and rattles off a trill of notes that do, indeed, remind one of song birds. "Is that pleasing to your ears, M'lord?" She subtly nudges the hat with her foot as she asks.
Aera tosses 1GP into the hat, much to the halfling's approval. "If you don't mind, would you happen to know where a music shop would be? Seeing how splendid your playing is, I assume that you must have bought those wonderful instruments somewhere," says Aera.
With some not so subtle coughing, Gorgar attracts the attention of the shopkeep. As she slowly moves her way towards him, Gorgar holds up the boots and shawl and says "These look as though they might help me during a trek into the mountains. How much are you asking? Surely not much seeing as they are so worn.". He does his best to turn on his charm. For a reasonable price, he will absolutely take them, as he feels some sort of attachment to these items.
As the coin joins the others at her feet, the halfling favours Aera with a smile."My thanks, good sir. Instruments? Oh, aye, I do indeed. Master Laereeryn makes the finest in the city. He's a luthier first and foremost, and sells his wares for across Faerûn. I'd wager they are as far out of your ability to pay as they are mine, I'm sorry to say. Unless there is more to you than meets the eye," she adds with another grin. "He does offer a selection of wares more suited to an itinerant bard, however. His shop is across the river, near the Blacklake Gate. Across the Dolphin Bridge and up the hill beyond, do you know the way? I could take you there for another gold crown." She gives you an inquiring look.
"Coming dear, coming. You needn't make such a show. Have a bit of patience for a poor old woman." Gorgor attracts the proprietor, who shuffles into the room. She's dressed in an eclectic outfit that would appear to be of her own design, bedecked with ribbons, bows and sprays of lace, as if to highlight the very goods she sells. "6 gold crowns for the boots, and 8 for the shawl, my friend. Worn they may be, but still well made with a lot of life left to them. If it's to the mountains you'll be headed, the you know the value of good, heavy wool. I couldn't possibly let that go for any less." She indicates another pair of boots in the pile, of knee-high supple leather. "Only 4 crowns for those there, if your a man who needs to watch his coin."
"My lady, I apologize for making a fuss. I guess the excitement inside of me after see the variety of your wares just came bursting out. I must say that your attention to design and beauty is evident here." waving his arm to draw her attention to the entire room. "I am quite interested in the boots, but your price on this shawl is far beyond my reach. A simple man, such as myself, does not have the luxury to treat myself to both....but I could use the warmth it would provide." As he holds both, he says outloud to himself, "Why must I choose?" Pausing to see the old woman's reaction, he offers "Would the lady be generous enough to accept 9 crowns for the pair?"
After spending the last few days in the pubs and around shops in an attempt to pick up more of the common phrases Whistling Wind finds he misses the peace and quiet of nature, he journeys into the woods and spends a few hours walking around and mimicking the birds. As it nears time for the pub meeting he makes his way through the dark woods, hurrying along as the sun begins to sink in the sky.
"I would be pleased if you could lead me to Master Laereeryn's shop. Here's the coin," as Aera dropped another coin into the hat. He was grateful for her help, and hopeful that the citizens of Neverwinter were the helpful the same.
"Ah, you'd take the food right off an old woman's plate?" She seems to hesitate, then heaves a theatrical sigh. "How can I resist such a good looking young man. The boots aren't worth much, truth be told, and I expect you'll need them more than old Granny Morteen. Take them, take them. Your 9 crowns will do. Now off with you, I have work to do." She shoos Gorgar to the door. "Gods' graces upon you. Come visit me again!"
By this time the sun is low in the sky and you judge you have just enough time to reach The Broken Tower before your appointed meeting time.
"Then I will be glad to show you the way." The small bard hops to her feet, scooping up the hat from the ground, coins disappearing somewhere into her outfit. Slinging the lyre across her back, she points down the street. "This way then. I'm Felicity Sweetwater, by the way. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Hurry now, I haven't got all day to play at being a guide." With this admonition, she starts off without a look behind, obviously expecting you to follow.
In his time getting to know the city, Whistling Wind has found himself gathering a reasonable collection of sounds and phrases. The shocked looks are still all to common, but he's able to get his meaning across for the most part, though not without the occasional confusion as he tries to do so. Mimicry is certainly not the most efficient means of communication. While there are small parks or groves scattered throughout Neverwinter, these are not the same as the truly open land beyond the walls and the wily kenku has made a few forays outside.
This afternoon he wanders a familiar path in the hills to the northeast, enjoying the solitude. His whistles and calls are accurate enough to attract the birds he mimics, and they often swoop in to investigate before flying off again. Immersed in nature as he is, he also spots squirrels, rabbits, even a fox with her kits at one point, all seemingly put at ease by Whistling Wind's practiced calls. After a few hours, he turns his steps back south towards the River Gate (N of the "Shard of Night" label on the map). As he goes, the shadows lengthen as the hour grows late. A prickling sensation grows between his shoulder blades and Whistling Wind begins to feel that perhaps he is no longer along in these woods...
With a quick grin acknowledging the bargain he just fashioned, Gorgar quickly moves along. Seeing the time, he makes his way to The Fallen Tower to see about this Rockseeker fellow and the work he might have. His pockets are feeling a bit light these days.
As Aera walks with Felicity to the music shop, he decides to make some friendly small talk. "So what brings you to the Sword Coast? It's dangerous 'round these parts, so everyone must have a story, correct?"
Whistling Wind casually pulls his quarter staff out of its holster, using it as a walking stick to throw off anyone who may be watching. He hastens his walking while subtly scoping out the woods around him, looking for anything odd.
Felicity led Aera through the streets of Neverwinter, chatting virtually non-stop as she went, and periodically calling out to someone she seemed to know. "My story? There is little to tell, truthfully. I'm here, as so many others, and you too I'd wager, seeking my fortune in the city as it regains the prestige it once held her in the North." As you make your way through town, the signs of reconstruction are evident everywhere. Large swaths of the city still show signs of the vast devastation caused by the eruption of nearby Mount Hotenow almost 40 years ago, and the subsequent chaos caused by the vast chasm which opened in the aftermath of the cataclysmic eruption, a portal to the vast Underdark and it's denizens, and the gods only knew what else. Castle Never, overlooking the city, still stands in ruins and Dagult Neverember, the current Lord Protector, rules over the city from within the Protector's Enclave in the southern side of the city.
You cross the Neverwinter River over a great arching bridge, the easternmost of three which span the river and connect the district known as the Protector's Enclave to the south with the Blacklake District to the north. Castle Never looms high above. "This in the Dolphin Bridge," your guide informs you. "The others are the Winged Wyvern and the Sleeping Dragon furthest west towards the sea." The great stone structure obviously gains it's name from the detailed carvings and statues which line it, showing cavorting sea creatures and rolling waves, though sadly it appears to be in a rather poor state of repair. Leading you through Blacklake, she then takes you to the northern wall, very near the Blacklake Gate, and finally to the base of an large tree with a beautiful, carved building encircling the base, with distinctly elven architecture. A sign hangs near he door, advertising the place as "The Mute Lute." "Here you are then, good sir. I'll take my leave and let you conduct your business. It's been a pleasure!" Before you can protest, she off and disappears into the traffic streaming along.
The shadows continue to lengthen as Whispering Wind quicken his steps towards the city gates. With the reassuring weight of the staff in his hand, the kenku monk's eyes scan the shadows for a glimpse of whatever it is that's triggered this sense of unease. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the trees as he walks, tensing somewhat at each potential attack. Despite his sense that he's being watched, Whisper soon finds himself back on the road, safe, and the woods behind him.
A stream of late day traffic trickles towards the gate of the city, a mix of folk returning to their homes from the surrounding fields, with an occasional lone figure, armed and armored, walking along as well. As you near the gate, a gong sounds, echoed from further away, signalling the nightly closing of the city. The Sword Coast is a dangerous place, and such precautions are the norm, even for a place a large as Neverwinter. "Hurry along!" A voice calls out, as the guards prepare to close gates behind the last of the stragglers.
One eye on the sky, Whispering Wind hurries along the city streets and towards the tavern known as the Fallen Tower.
Aera enters the shop, passing through the doorway to the musical strains of lute music sounding out of the air over his head. Inside the octagonal building is just as artistically finishes as the exterior had been, and he can see the truck of the tree it is built around dominates the center of the structure. It was just a flash, but it almost looked as if a slender figure disappeared into the tree as a distinguished, older half-elven man turns to you, behind a counter dividing the storefront area from the rest of the space behind it.
Shelves and racks line the store, with a variety of handcrafted instruments of all types, as if to advertise that he is willing to cater to the needs of all, even if the specialty of the operation is the lute. Indeed, while a few of these are on display where you could try them - finely crafted and serviceable, one and all - behind the counter is a display which dazzles the eye. Even the unpracticed can recognize these for what they are - Masterwork instruments, crafted in all manner of woods and exotic materials. You'd guess they must sell for hundreds if not thousands of crowns apiece.
"Welcome to the Muted Lute, good sir - I am Rebeth Laereeryn, luthier and proprietor. How may I assist you this fine evening?"
Whistling Wind arrives at the tavern a few minutes before the agreed time, he orders an ale, tossing the required payment to the barkeep. He spots an empty table in the back corner and settles in the farthest chair, protecting his behind from any unsuspecting attacks from the many who distrust kenku and providing him with a full view of the room. He settles in with his ale and keeps his eyes peeled for Gundren and for anyone else he might recognize.
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Legacy of Phandelver's Pact
The Village of Phandalin, with the ruins of Tresendar Manor looming in the background
The Sword Coast. Across the length and breadth of Faerûn the very name is synonymous with danger. Adventure. Fame and fortune. From the Spine of the World in the North, south to the verdant lands of Amn, the region known as the Sword Coast lies at the western edge of the continent along the Sea of Swords.
The great cities of the North lie scattered like jewels throughout, each drawing countless adventurers who venture forth against challenges unknown, seeking to loot the ruins of the civilizations upon whose bones are built the present-day realms of man, elf, dwarf and even more exotic races.
Just a few days travel south of the city of Neverwinter, in the northern foothills of the Sword Mountains lies the nondescript mining settlement of Phandalin. Although the village might not look like much, it provides a safe haven for adventurers eager to explore the surrounding wilderness, which is home to many old ruins and abandoned dwarven mines. In the last three or four years, hardy settlers from the cities of Neverwinter and Waterdeep have begun the hard work of reclaiming the ruins of Phandalin. A bustling frontier settlement has grown up on the site of the old town, and is home now to farmers, woodcutters, fur traders, and prospectors drawn by stories of gold and platinum in the foothills of the Sword Mountains.
Posting Example
In order to keep things neat, and improve the readability of posts, the example below shows how various elements should be formatted - this isn't set in stone, but is the format I use in my own posts where possible.
* Use of a unique color for your character's speech
* Italics to indicate thoughts
*Spells such as Light, skills, etc referenced with tags to link DDB content where possible (Tag listing in the Play-by-Post FAQ >here<)
*Dice rolls in-line, in [brackets] and labeled
------------------------------------
These runty little goblins will be the death of us yet, thought Hedrik as he moved in front of the wizard. There were four of them, and more coming out of the cave mouth even as he moved into a protective position. "Stay behind me Lethan, and we might just survive. Hopefully I can scare some of them off and we won't have to fight the all."
Yelling his battle cry and banging sword on shield [Intimidation: 16?], Hedrik held his ground near the wizard. As the first goblin got close, he took a swing at the ugly thing, hoping to kill it as quickly a possible so he could move on to the next. [Longsword Attack: 7 Damage: 9]
------------------------------------
Since you won't be sure of success in many cases, try not to write the results of your actions. As DM, I'll post a follow-up which details what happened. The Intimidation check up above may have scared off a few of the goblins, for example, and the attack may or may not have hit the goblin, and a successful hit may or may not have killed it.
Map of the Area is >HERE<
The City of Neverwinter. 1491, Year of the Scarlet Witch.
It's been over 30 years since the once proud city was laid low, nearly destroyed by the eruption of nearby Mount Hotenow. Thousands died in the chaos and the very ground of the city was torn asunder. But the people of the North are a special breed and in the years since, much has been rebuilt. People returned and resettled, trade resumed and life goes on in the face of adversity, championed by Lord-Protector Dagult Neverember.
Each of you has found your way to Neverwinter for your own reasons, as so many would-be heroes has done before you. Day by day, your coin pouches have grown ever lighter and the need to find employment of some sort has grown as well. Fortunately, there is always work of one sort or another to be found, and you've all been directed to the The Fallen Tower, a well-known tavern located within the Tower District of the city. At seven bells this evening, you are to meet one Gundren Rockseeker, a dwarf hailing from the nearby town of Phadalin, regarding possible employment. Looking up at the sun, peeking through broken clouds, you see you have a few hours to spare before your meeting...
[OOC: There is your intro everyone. Feel free to start posting a bit of exploration of the city, finding your way to the tavern, and/or meeting and interacting with each other (or not). Let's get this thing rolling!]
To feed his burning desire to expand his knowledge of the magic arts, Gorgar chooses to spend his last moments of free time searching for the hidden shops and traders of antiquities. He is well aware of the hidden gems that can be found within these dingy spots. Often these traders can only see the surface value of things and have no idea of the underlying power that some items possess.
Aera goes to the merchants, hoping to find a decent pan flute to play at the tavern. As he trudges along the cobblestone roads, he notices a halfling playing a lyre.
Gorgar takes his time exploring the market district. Walking the streets, he passes a number of shops large and small dealing in antiquities, clothing and assorted sundries. Browsing through a few that seem to hold promise, he begins to feel his search will be fruitless. Nearly ready to give up, he decides to try one last shop, with the unlikely moniker of Morteen's Boutique and Haberdashery. As it's name suggests, much of the space is taken up with display of silks and fabrics, buttons, ribbon and various other goods for sewing, as well as a variety of finished goods for more refined tastes. There is, however, a side room with a modest collection of clothing that appears to be more promising.
After searching through the offerings, two items draw his attention, though there is nothing much of note in their appearance. One is a pair of heavy black leather boots, mixed in a pile of others, well-worn and non-descript. The other is a heavy wool shawl, dyed in autumnal reds and oranges. It too looks well-used, and still faintly smells of lavender from the previous owner.
Aera wanders the streets, no particular destination in mind at first. His avian nature draws the occasional stare or sideways glance. His kind are rare, though not entirely unknown to those more well-traveled. Those who do goggle at the sight of him say nothing, perhaps put off by the fierce look in his eyes, or the thought of how his aquiline beak could tear into their flesh. He soon hears the strains of music drifting up the street and catches sight of a youngish seeming halfling girl strumming a melancholy tune on a lyre. As he approaches, Aera sees a hat upon the ground at her feet, the glint of a few coins visible within. It doesn't seem the girl has been particularly successful in her busking today, perhaps on account of her choice of song.
"Good eve, my fine feathered friend! Well met! Can I interest you in a bit of birdsong perhaps?" She sets the lyre aside and plucks a small flute from a pocket of the bright vest she wears, and rattles off a trill of notes that do, indeed, remind one of song birds. "Is that pleasing to your ears, M'lord?" She subtly nudges the hat with her foot as she asks.
Aera tosses 1GP into the hat, much to the halfling's approval. "If you don't mind, would you happen to know where a music shop would be? Seeing how splendid your playing is, I assume that you must have bought those wonderful instruments somewhere," says Aera.
With some not so subtle coughing, Gorgar attracts the attention of the shopkeep. As she slowly moves her way towards him, Gorgar holds up the boots and shawl and says "These look as though they might help me during a trek into the mountains. How much are you asking? Surely not much seeing as they are so worn.". He does his best to turn on his charm. For a reasonable price, he will absolutely take them, as he feels some sort of attachment to these items.
As the coin joins the others at her feet, the halfling favours Aera with a smile. "My thanks, good sir. Instruments? Oh, aye, I do indeed. Master Laereeryn makes the finest in the city. He's a luthier first and foremost, and sells his wares for across Faerûn. I'd wager they are as far out of your ability to pay as they are mine, I'm sorry to say. Unless there is more to you than meets the eye," she adds with another grin. "He does offer a selection of wares more suited to an itinerant bard, however. His shop is across the river, near the Blacklake Gate. Across the Dolphin Bridge and up the hill beyond, do you know the way? I could take you there for another gold crown." She gives you an inquiring look.
"Coming dear, coming. You needn't make such a show. Have a bit of patience for a poor old woman." Gorgor attracts the proprietor, who shuffles into the room. She's dressed in an eclectic outfit that would appear to be of her own design, bedecked with ribbons, bows and sprays of lace, as if to highlight the very goods she sells. "6 gold crowns for the boots, and 8 for the shawl, my friend. Worn they may be, but still well made with a lot of life left to them. If it's to the mountains you'll be headed, the you know the value of good, heavy wool. I couldn't possibly let that go for any less." She indicates another pair of boots in the pile, of knee-high supple leather. "Only 4 crowns for those there, if your a man who needs to watch his coin."
"My lady, I apologize for making a fuss. I guess the excitement inside of me after see the variety of your wares just came bursting out. I must say that your attention to design and beauty is evident here." waving his arm to draw her attention to the entire room. "I am quite interested in the boots, but your price on this shawl is far beyond my reach. A simple man, such as myself, does not have the luxury to treat myself to both....but I could use the warmth it would provide." As he holds both, he says outloud to himself, "Why must I choose?" Pausing to see the old woman's reaction, he offers "Would the lady be generous enough to accept 9 crowns for the pair?"
After spending the last few days in the pubs and around shops in an attempt to pick up more of the common phrases Whistling Wind finds he misses the peace and quiet of nature, he journeys into the woods and spends a few hours walking around and mimicking the birds. As it nears time for the pub meeting he makes his way through the dark woods, hurrying along as the sun begins to sink in the sky.
"I would be pleased if you could lead me to Master Laereeryn's shop. Here's the coin," as Aera dropped another coin into the hat. He was grateful for her help, and hopeful that the citizens of Neverwinter were the helpful the same.
"Ah, you'd take the food right off an old woman's plate?" She seems to hesitate, then heaves a theatrical sigh. "How can I resist such a good looking young man. The boots aren't worth much, truth be told, and I expect you'll need them more than old Granny Morteen. Take them, take them. Your 9 crowns will do. Now off with you, I have work to do." She shoos Gorgar to the door. "Gods' graces upon you. Come visit me again!"
By this time the sun is low in the sky and you judge you have just enough time to reach The Broken Tower before your appointed meeting time.
"Then I will be glad to show you the way." The small bard hops to her feet, scooping up the hat from the ground, coins disappearing somewhere into her outfit. Slinging the lyre across her back, she points down the street. "This way then. I'm Felicity Sweetwater, by the way. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Hurry now, I haven't got all day to play at being a guide." With this admonition, she starts off without a look behind, obviously expecting you to follow.
In his time getting to know the city, Whistling Wind has found himself gathering a reasonable collection of sounds and phrases. The shocked looks are still all to common, but he's able to get his meaning across for the most part, though not without the occasional confusion as he tries to do so. Mimicry is certainly not the most efficient means of communication. While there are small parks or groves scattered throughout Neverwinter, these are not the same as the truly open land beyond the walls and the wily kenku has made a few forays outside.
This afternoon he wanders a familiar path in the hills to the northeast, enjoying the solitude. His whistles and calls are accurate enough to attract the birds he mimics, and they often swoop in to investigate before flying off again. Immersed in nature as he is, he also spots squirrels, rabbits, even a fox with her kits at one point, all seemingly put at ease by Whistling Wind's practiced calls. After a few hours, he turns his steps back south towards the River Gate (N of the "Shard of Night" label on the map). As he goes, the shadows lengthen as the hour grows late. A prickling sensation grows between his shoulder blades and Whistling Wind begins to feel that perhaps he is no longer along in these woods...
For everyone's reference - Map of Neverwinter:
With a quick grin acknowledging the bargain he just fashioned, Gorgar quickly moves along. Seeing the time, he makes his way to The Fallen Tower to see about this Rockseeker fellow and the work he might have. His pockets are feeling a bit light these days.
As Aera walks with Felicity to the music shop, he decides to make some friendly small talk. "So what brings you to the Sword Coast? It's dangerous 'round these parts, so everyone must have a story, correct?"
Whistling Wind casually pulls his quarter staff out of its holster, using it as a walking stick to throw off anyone who may be watching. He hastens his walking while subtly scoping out the woods around him, looking for anything odd.
Felicity led Aera through the streets of Neverwinter, chatting virtually non-stop as she went, and periodically calling out to someone she seemed to know. "My story? There is little to tell, truthfully. I'm here, as so many others, and you too I'd wager, seeking my fortune in the city as it regains the prestige it once held her in the North." As you make your way through town, the signs of reconstruction are evident everywhere. Large swaths of the city still show signs of the vast devastation caused by the eruption of nearby Mount Hotenow almost 40 years ago, and the subsequent chaos caused by the vast chasm which opened in the aftermath of the cataclysmic eruption, a portal to the vast Underdark and it's denizens, and the gods only knew what else. Castle Never, overlooking the city, still stands in ruins and Dagult Neverember, the current Lord Protector, rules over the city from within the Protector's Enclave in the southern side of the city.
You cross the Neverwinter River over a great arching bridge, the easternmost of three which span the river and connect the district known as the Protector's Enclave to the south with the Blacklake District to the north. Castle Never looms high above. "This in the Dolphin Bridge," your guide informs you. "The others are the Winged Wyvern and the Sleeping Dragon furthest west towards the sea." The great stone structure obviously gains it's name from the detailed carvings and statues which line it, showing cavorting sea creatures and rolling waves, though sadly it appears to be in a rather poor state of repair. Leading you through Blacklake, she then takes you to the northern wall, very near the Blacklake Gate, and finally to the base of an large tree with a beautiful, carved building encircling the base, with distinctly elven architecture. A sign hangs near he door, advertising the place as "The Mute Lute." "Here you are then, good sir. I'll take my leave and let you conduct your business. It's been a pleasure!" Before you can protest, she off and disappears into the traffic streaming along.
The shadows continue to lengthen as Whispering Wind quicken his steps towards the city gates. With the reassuring weight of the staff in his hand, the kenku monk's eyes scan the shadows for a glimpse of whatever it is that's triggered this sense of unease. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the trees as he walks, tensing somewhat at each potential attack. Despite his sense that he's being watched, Whisper soon finds himself back on the road, safe, and the woods behind him.
A stream of late day traffic trickles towards the gate of the city, a mix of folk returning to their homes from the surrounding fields, with an occasional lone figure, armed and armored, walking along as well. As you near the gate, a gong sounds, echoed from further away, signalling the nightly closing of the city. The Sword Coast is a dangerous place, and such precautions are the norm, even for a place a large as Neverwinter. "Hurry along!" A voice calls out, as the guards prepare to close gates behind the last of the stragglers.
One eye on the sky, Whispering Wind hurries along the city streets and towards the tavern known as the Fallen Tower.
Aera heads into the shop, hopeful that he'll make a good bargain. he notices the time, and notes that he can't meander around in the shop.
Aera enters the shop, passing through the doorway to the musical strains of lute music sounding out of the air over his head. Inside the octagonal building is just as artistically finishes as the exterior had been, and he can see the truck of the tree it is built around dominates the center of the structure. It was just a flash, but it almost looked as if a slender figure disappeared into the tree as a distinguished, older half-elven man turns to you, behind a counter dividing the storefront area from the rest of the space behind it.
Shelves and racks line the store, with a variety of handcrafted instruments of all types, as if to advertise that he is willing to cater to the needs of all, even if the specialty of the operation is the lute. Indeed, while a few of these are on display where you could try them - finely crafted and serviceable, one and all - behind the counter is a display which dazzles the eye. Even the unpracticed can recognize these for what they are - Masterwork instruments, crafted in all manner of woods and exotic materials. You'd guess they must sell for hundreds if not thousands of crowns apiece.
"Welcome to the Muted Lute, good sir - I am Rebeth Laereeryn, luthier and proprietor. How may I assist you this fine evening?"
Whistling Wind arrives at the tavern a few minutes before the agreed time, he orders an ale, tossing the required payment to the barkeep. He spots an empty table in the back corner and settles in the farthest chair, protecting his behind from any unsuspecting attacks from the many who distrust kenku and providing him with a full view of the room. He settles in with his ale and keeps his eyes peeled for Gundren and for anyone else he might recognize.