Icewind Dale has become trapped in a perpetual winter. Ferocious blizzards make the mountain pass through the Spine of the World exceedingly treacherous, and this land has not felt the warmth of the sun in over two years. In fact, the sun no longer appears above the mountains, not even in what should be the height of summer. In this frozen tundra, darkness and bitter cold reign as king and queen. Most dale residents blame Auril the Frostmaiden, the god of winter’s wrath. The shimmering aurora that weaves across the sky each night is said to be her doing—a potent spell that keeps the sun at bay.
Dalefolk live in a scattering of settlements known as Ten-Towns. The drop-off in caravans coming from the south and travel between settlements in this never-ending winter has left everyone feeling isolated. Although each town has resolved to appease the Frostmaiden with sacrifices of one kind or another, no respite from winter’s fury seems forthcoming. For adventurers such as yourselves, Ten-Towns is a place to test one’s mettle and, in the spirit of heroes who have come before, leave one’s mark on this frigid, blighted land.
Bryn Shander, a walled town perched atop a cold, lonely, wind-lashed hill. Bright lanterns suspended over narrow streets twist in the wind and add flecks of color to the town’s otherwise drab surroundings.
The friendliness in this settlement has dwindled of late. Auril’s unyielding winter has greatly reduced the number of visitors to Bryn Shander, and local trade is suffering for it, eating away at the locals’ sense of humor and goodwill. Still, there is no safer place in Icewind Dale to spend coin or spend the night.
The walls of the town stand some 30 feet high and are defined by two concentric rings of upright wooden poles, the gap between them filled with dirt and rubble. The outer ring of poles rises above the top of the wall, providing a rampart for defenders stationed on the wood-planked walkway. The wall’s hinged gates are 15 feet tall and can be barred from the inside with iron-banded wood beams. These gates are closed when it’s dark outside—which is to say more often than not.
The group sights the gates around 5:00PM in the evening hour after a day of trying to beat a storm in the distance. You are approximately 100yds. Away in the cleared zone beyond the walls.
Belthran wipes the rime from his face and points ahead. "I see the town gate", he calls to the others, "And I can practically taste the froth of the first ale", he adds, a note of cheer in his voice to encourage his worn and frigid companions. The interminable cold never seems to bother the goliath.
Cloak hood up and moth covered, Sandow mutters something resembling 'about damn time.' "Our travels have been long and most uncomfortable. I'll stand the first round of ale for us all, and with luck, something substantial will be roasting on the pits with some hearty bread to sop up the juices with. We're all low on coin and the weather does not look promising. We'll need to secure lodgings at least for the night and it's early enough yet to make some inquiries regarding work? Perhaps gracing the palms of one of these guards with a small bit of coin will get us the name of an inn that is not too dear in cost and not a den of thieves. 'Tis best to spend in front and save some troubles where we can."
[action] Sandow is a suspicious person whenever he enters a town. He's checking for any obvious signs of strife like: no guards in sight, gate up even when there's still light in the sky, obvious blood in the snow, smoke coming from the town (more than from chimneys).
Vrajitor looks at the front of the gates of Brun Shandor as he is approaching. "Ah! Hopefully we can make it in before any decide to close the gates for the night." He will hustle to the gate and call out, "Ho at the gates! T’is Vrajitor Gri and fellow travellers seeking shelter from the storm approaching!"
OCC Does he recognize any of the guards, if any are visible?
Not overly fond of towns and walls in the first place, Vor will keep a sharp eye on our approach. With a look and a nod to Vrajitor, he says, "Belthran, you can have my first ale if I can get some meat and we can get a song or rousing tale when we rest! I might even try to sing with you if it will encourage you." (OOC: Vor is more or less tone deaf)
While looking around, Vor pauses his gaze on Rowan and Krombek to see if they are struggling through the last of the snow banks and storm, "Are you doing alright?"
"Never better," Rowan replies with a smile. Ice and snow have started accumulating in her hair and on her clothes, but she doesn't seem particularly bothered. "I'm glad to be near civilization again."
Turning to Krombek, she says, "I'll go with you. I think we all know by now that it's best not to be alone."
"Aye, I'm still moving," Krombek grunts in frustration. "I should have stuck to the woods, damn snow and heavy shite," he mumbles to himself. "Aye, Rowan. I could use the company," he breaks his look of frustration for a momentary smile "How's Enya? Does the snow effect her?"
“She doesn’t do very well in the cold, so I haven’t let her out for a few days. She’s probably not too pleased with me, come to think of it.” Rowan snaps her fingers and Enya suddenly appears on the ground next to her. The small orange cat is light enough that she doesn’t sink into the snow bank. She lets out an irritated meow, and Rowan sighs. “Yes, I know, but I didn’t want you to freeze. We’ll be inside soon, though.”
Alaric follows behind Rowan and Krombek. Although the frigid winds are troublesome, he knows he must save face around his servants and does his best to mask his discomfort by maintaining a stern gaze towards the town. He tries to think warm thoughts: the fire of his forge; the quilts laid on his bed; and the warmth of fine drink kept in the family distillery.
With that he tells Krombek, "If it's good drink you want I'll open you a tab. Something tells me they don't see many people."
He then tells Rowan, "Perhaps they need the business of a couple of nobles from Waterdeep".
Alaric goes to comfort his horse, Wally Whiskers, telling her that it's only a bit farther and she'll enjoy some honey and oats soon enough.
As you all come nearer to the gate you see way more armed folks manning the gate and wall than you would think on a midweek evening. After a quick inspection of yourselves and the wagon, you are each permitted entry once each of you pay the guard Sgt. two copper pieces “visitor tax” and each shows they have either coins or goods to trade. The wagon costs 2 coppers of “Road tax” (OOC: please deduct from character sheet).
Knowing some of his fellows are light on coin, Sandow steps forward and pays for the group (and the wagon) stating that the group is intending to purchase goods here, thus the wagon. He shows one of his pouches that contain 10 gold in various types of coin, and simply rattles his other pouch that looks the same but is filled with metal ball bearings.
[action] Knowing that some in the group have no coin to show, Sandow is acting like he's a merchant and this is his crew.
I'll tell the Sgt, "We're headed to the Foaming Mug Inn." And I'll keep an eye on my surroundings; particularly, any people that might've caught the attention of in a good way or bad way.
Vor looking at this exchange says to Sandow, “Thanks again, boss.” Nudging Vrajitor he says in a casual and admiring tone, “Did you see that hunter with the new fire spear? I wonder how far out that will reach?”
He will continue forward into town pulling his mule, Stavka, as the group moves forward. Using his faux admiration Vor will look around and get a better view at the defense posture at the gate.
Seeing that Sandow has paid for our entry into Bryn Shander, Alaric motions for his servants to start making their way to the gates. To which they are very eager to do so.
Rowan gives a polite smile and nod to the guard as they pass through. She makes note of the hunter but isn't particularly interested in the man or his firearm. She has no use for such a weapon, and she figures he's only staring because the town doesn't get many visitors. When Enya fails to notify her of anything but the man's presence, her curiosity diminishes further.
Turning to Krombek, she asks, "Do you want to stop at the inn or not before we go looking for your supplies?"
Looking at Vor, Vrajitor says, "Not sure what I thiink about those new fangled firespears, I do know it is hard to be sneaky with them and getting the jump on you foe is half the battle, sometimes the battle."
Shaking his head ruefully, "Not even a copper, no talent for picking pockets, have a difficult time shining folks up, crap." He grimaces. "Can't even dance."
He will follow along to where ever the group is going. "Wonder if I can sell Krombeck," he add with a sly sidelong look at Krombeck, a smile briefly flashing across his face.
Icewind Dale has become trapped in a perpetual winter. Ferocious blizzards make the mountain pass through the Spine of the World exceedingly treacherous, and this land has not felt the warmth of the sun in over two years. In fact, the sun no longer appears above the mountains, not even in what should be the height of summer. In this frozen tundra, darkness and bitter cold reign as king and queen. Most dale residents blame Auril the Frostmaiden, the god of winter’s wrath. The shimmering aurora that weaves across the sky each night is said to be her doing—a potent spell that keeps the sun at bay.
Dalefolk live in a scattering of settlements known as Ten-Towns. The drop-off in caravans coming from the south and travel between settlements in this never-ending winter has left everyone feeling isolated. Although each town has resolved to appease the Frostmaiden with sacrifices of one kind or another, no respite from winter’s fury seems forthcoming. For adventurers such as yourselves, Ten-Towns is a place to test one’s mettle and, in the spirit of heroes who have come before, leave one’s mark on this frigid, blighted land.
Bryn Shander, a walled town perched atop a cold, lonely, wind-lashed hill. Bright lanterns suspended over narrow streets twist in the wind and add flecks of color to the town’s otherwise drab surroundings.
The friendliness in this settlement has dwindled of late. Auril’s unyielding winter has greatly reduced the number of visitors to Bryn Shander, and local trade is suffering for it, eating away at the locals’ sense of humor and goodwill. Still, there is no safer place in Icewind Dale to spend coin or spend the night.
The walls of the town stand some 30 feet high and are defined by two concentric rings of upright wooden poles, the gap between them filled with dirt and rubble. The outer ring of poles rises above the top of the wall, providing a rampart for defenders stationed on the wood-planked walkway. The wall’s hinged gates are 15 feet tall and can be barred from the inside with iron-banded wood beams. These gates are closed when it’s dark outside—which is to say more often than not.
The group sights the gates around 5:00PM in the evening hour after a day of trying to beat a storm in the distance. You are approximately 100yds. Away in the cleared zone beyond the walls.
Welcome to Icewind Dale.
Belthran wipes the rime from his face and points ahead. "I see the town gate", he calls to the others, "And I can practically taste the froth of the first ale", he adds, a note of cheer in his voice to encourage his worn and frigid companions. The interminable cold never seems to bother the goliath.
"Aye. Home sweet home for some of us," Krombek gives a grin and a small chuckle, "Cant wait to get a wee bit warmer and a whole lot drunker!"
Cloak hood up and moth covered, Sandow mutters something resembling 'about damn time.' "Our travels have been long and most uncomfortable. I'll stand the first round of ale for us all, and with luck, something substantial will be roasting on the pits with some hearty bread to sop up the juices with. We're all low on coin and the weather does not look promising. We'll need to secure lodgings at least for the night and it's early enough yet to make some inquiries regarding work? Perhaps gracing the palms of one of these guards with a small bit of coin will get us the name of an inn that is not too dear in cost and not a den of thieves. 'Tis best to spend in front and save some troubles where we can."
[action] Sandow is a suspicious person whenever he enters a town. He's checking for any obvious signs of strife like: no guards in sight, gate up even when there's still light in the sky, obvious blood in the snow, smoke coming from the town (more than from chimneys).
"Let's hope with so few caravans travelling the pass the local hostelry might be offering a discount to whatever custom they can get, eh?"
"When we get in, I need to see if they have any medicinal components in stock anywhere in town. I used the last of em on our way here."
Vrajitor looks at the front of the gates of Brun Shandor as he is approaching. "Ah! Hopefully we can make it in before any decide to close the gates for the night." He will hustle to the gate and call out, "Ho at the gates! T’is Vrajitor Gri and fellow travellers seeking shelter from the storm approaching!"
OCC Does he recognize any of the guards, if any are visible?
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.
Not overly fond of towns and walls in the first place, Vor will keep a sharp eye on our approach. With a look and a nod to Vrajitor, he says, "Belthran, you can have my first ale if I can get some meat and we can get a song or rousing tale when we rest! I might even try to sing with you if it will encourage you." (OOC: Vor is more or less tone deaf)
While looking around, Vor pauses his gaze on Rowan and Krombek to see if they are struggling through the last of the snow banks and storm, "Are you doing alright?"
Moshet Tanubis - Grave Cleric - Lvl 1 -- Mercer's Tavern
Asvala Vor - Barbarian/War Cleric - Lvl 2/Lvl 1 - Icewind Dale: Frostmaiden
"Never better," Rowan replies with a smile. Ice and snow have started accumulating in her hair and on her clothes, but she doesn't seem particularly bothered. "I'm glad to be near civilization again."
Turning to Krombek, she says, "I'll go with you. I think we all know by now that it's best not to be alone."
Iris - Tiefling Cleric | Cassandra - Elf Warlock | Solace - Tiefling Monk | Tempest - Hexblood Monk | Lex - Fire Genasi Barbarian
Lilyn - Triton Ranger | Candor - Changeling Bard | Echo - Changeling Warlock/Bard | Rowan - Fairy Wizard
"Aye, I'm still moving," Krombek grunts in frustration. "I should have stuck to the woods, damn snow and heavy shite," he mumbles to himself.
"Aye, Rowan. I could use the company," he breaks his look of frustration for a momentary smile "How's Enya? Does the snow effect her?"
“She doesn’t do very well in the cold, so I haven’t let her out for a few days. She’s probably not too pleased with me, come to think of it.” Rowan snaps her fingers and Enya suddenly appears on the ground next to her. The small orange cat is light enough that she doesn’t sink into the snow bank. She lets out an irritated meow, and Rowan sighs. “Yes, I know, but I didn’t want you to freeze. We’ll be inside soon, though.”
Iris - Tiefling Cleric | Cassandra - Elf Warlock | Solace - Tiefling Monk | Tempest - Hexblood Monk | Lex - Fire Genasi Barbarian
Lilyn - Triton Ranger | Candor - Changeling Bard | Echo - Changeling Warlock/Bard | Rowan - Fairy Wizard
Alaric follows behind Rowan and Krombek. Although the frigid winds are troublesome, he knows he must save face around his servants and does his best to mask his discomfort by maintaining a stern gaze towards the town. He tries to think warm thoughts: the fire of his forge; the quilts laid on his bed; and the warmth of fine drink kept in the family distillery.
With that he tells Krombek, "If it's good drink you want I'll open you a tab. Something tells me they don't see many people."
He then tells Rowan, "Perhaps they need the business of a couple of nobles from Waterdeep".
Alaric goes to comfort his horse, Wally Whiskers, telling her that it's only a bit farther and she'll enjoy some honey and oats soon enough.
As you all come nearer to the gate you see way more armed folks manning the gate and wall than you would think on a midweek evening. After a quick inspection of yourselves and the wagon, you are each permitted entry once each of you pay the guard Sgt. two copper pieces “visitor tax” and each shows they have either coins or goods to trade. The wagon costs 2 coppers of “Road tax” (OOC: please deduct from character sheet).
Knowing some of his fellows are light on coin, Sandow steps forward and pays for the group (and the wagon) stating that the group is intending to purchase goods here, thus the wagon. He shows one of his pouches that contain 10 gold in various types of coin, and simply rattles his other pouch that looks the same but is filled with metal ball bearings.
[action] Knowing that some in the group have no coin to show, Sandow is acting like he's a merchant and this is his crew.
I'll tell the Sgt, "We're headed to the Foaming Mug Inn." And I'll keep an eye on my surroundings; particularly, any people that might've caught the attention of in a good way or bad way.
Vor looking at this exchange says to Sandow, “Thanks again, boss.” Nudging Vrajitor he says in a casual and admiring tone, “Did you see that hunter with the new fire spear? I wonder how far out that will reach?”
He will continue forward into town pulling his mule, Stavka, as the group moves forward. Using his faux admiration Vor will look around and get a better view at the defense posture at the gate.
Moshet Tanubis - Grave Cleric - Lvl 1 -- Mercer's Tavern
Asvala Vor - Barbarian/War Cleric - Lvl 2/Lvl 1 - Icewind Dale: Frostmaiden
Seeing that Sandow has paid for our entry into Bryn Shander, Alaric motions for his servants to start making their way to the gates. To which they are very eager to do so.
Rowan gives a polite smile and nod to the guard as they pass through. She makes note of the hunter but isn't particularly interested in the man or his firearm. She has no use for such a weapon, and she figures he's only staring because the town doesn't get many visitors. When Enya fails to notify her of anything but the man's presence, her curiosity diminishes further.
Turning to Krombek, she asks, "Do you want to stop at the inn or not before we go looking for your supplies?"
Iris - Tiefling Cleric | Cassandra - Elf Warlock | Solace - Tiefling Monk | Tempest - Hexblood Monk | Lex - Fire Genasi Barbarian
Lilyn - Triton Ranger | Candor - Changeling Bard | Echo - Changeling Warlock/Bard | Rowan - Fairy Wizard
"Vor has promised me the first ale is on him and I wouldn't want to miss out", chuckles Belthran.
Looking at Vor, Vrajitor says, "Not sure what I thiink about those new fangled firespears, I do know it is hard to be sneaky with them and getting the jump on you foe is half the battle, sometimes the battle."
Shaking his head ruefully, "Not even a copper, no talent for picking pockets, have a difficult time shining folks up, crap." He grimaces. "Can't even dance."
He will follow along to where ever the group is going. "Wonder if I can sell Krombeck," he add with a sly sidelong look at Krombeck, a smile briefly flashing across his face.
Panic is a mechanism that strengthens the gene pool.