A caravan carrying essential materials for a divine ritual that aims to help the people of Bryn Shander stave off the brunt of the Rime of the Frostmaiden attempts to make it through the treacherous passes along the Spine of the World. However, suspicions fall upon the caravan members as some suspect it has been infiltrated by the Cult of Auril itself, threatening the ritual and the brave travelers that try to reach Ten-Towns with crucial supplies.
North of the Spine of the World and west of the towering Reghed Glacier is a frigid expanse few dare to explore, let alone inhabit. This icy land of windswept tundra recently became locked in a perpetual, dark winter without reprieve. Auril the Frostmaiden, the divine embodiment of winter's fury, has withdrawn to this cold corner of the world to live among mortals. Further, she has cast a terrible spell over Icewind Dale, to the detriment of most of its denizens.
Each night before midnight, Auril takes to the sky on the back of a white roc and weaves her spell, which manifests as a shimmering curtain of light—a beautiful aurora that illuminates the night sky and fades before dawn. This powerful magic prevents the next day's sun from rising above the horizon, turning midday into twilight and trapping Icewind Dale in winter's dark embrace, with no sunlight or warmth to melt the snow and ice. Each casting of the spell also further barricades the mountain passes with blizzards and churn the Sea of Moving Ice with blistering winds. Such measures discourage travelers from approaching or leaving Icewind Dale, further isolating the region. Icewind Dale has thus been trapped in a different reality from the rest of the world, for though the sun never rises over the dale, it continues to rise everywhere else.
The people of Icewind Dale know Auril's wrath when they feel it, and they have a name for the unending winter she has inflicted on them. They call it the Everlasting Rime. No one understands why the Frostmaiden has imposed her will in this way or why the other gods refuse to challenge her. This prolonged winter, which has gone on for more than two years, threatens to doom not just the flickering lights of civilization known as Ten-Towns but also the indigenous flora and fauna that need sunlight and the change of seasons to survive.
Mihris, under orders from her superiors in Duskwood Dell—an Eldathyn grove far to the south, beyond Baldur's Gate—travelled months on end to reach the north, hearing ever more alarming news of the curse that befell Icewind Dale, locking it in perpetual winter, a condition that her deity would not allow to linger. On the road, somewhere when passing around Waterdeep, Mihris eventually met with a recent travelling companion, the wood elf Mialee, with whom she discussed the travel up north. Mialee herself was under a similar objective on her journeys, for after sharing with her druidic mentors her dreams—involving the great blessed tree of Kuldahar—she was tasked with investigating the situation, a task which would prove her abilities and dedication, and have her earn the worth of being called a druid of the High Forest. Eventually the two travelling companions made their way to Luskan, city of Sails, and after a few arrangements, secured their spots on a caravan heading towards Icewind Dale.
Vanys had been treading the ups and downs of the Spine of the World for days, his thirst for arcane knowledge and power pushing him forward deep into orcish territory, but poor planning and conditions eventually won out—and the nightmares and visions didn't help either. Eventually found by a group of local trappers half-buried in the snow and almost frostbitten, and brought back to their camp. While recovering back in the camp, Vanys got to know another traveler that had hired the group of trappers as guides for his journey, the alchemist known as Red, and the two traded stories about the lost artifacts of the north, especially those that usually drew the most attention among researchers like them, those of Netherese origin, that were rumored to be scattered about all the region, deep in the snow. Due to the ever worsening conditions and darkness of the region, the trappers eventually decided to head towards the largest road, the Ten Trail, and then make their way more easily towards Ten-Towns.
To make it through the treacherous North-South in the Spine of the World mountains, all of you joined the caravan of Ignazio Gallo, a rotund Chondathan human caravan master that departed his trail of many wagons from Luskan some tendays ago. Either having joined the other travelers all the way back in Luskan or on the road, you've all witnessed as the caravan crossed the pass and narrowly dodged a deadly avalanche just as the pass was completely blocked off by snow. Whatever destiny you had in mind, your only option for survival seems to be following the caravan all the way to its destination, the largest of the Ten-Towns, Bryn Shander.
The journey through the dark cold is difficult and humorless, travelers mostly keeping to themselves and those whom they already know—which is hard to tell apart under so many layers of fur and gear. The chilling wind bites to the bone and almost deafens you, but some may imagine it is a relief from the sounds of the wilderness night around that you might hearing otherwise. These fears have been presented way before you joined the caravan, but a few days back the rumors spread around the wagons that someone in the caravan was an infiltrated cultist, a servant of the Frostmaiden herself, seeking to bring misfortune upon the travelers, maybe even offer their souls to Auril in sacrifice in some way. The travelers have been on edge, lack of sleeps dulls your senses and judgement, but no one has come to accusations. So far.
The caravan is composed of a total of eleven wagons, each carried by either two draft horses, an ox, or even a white axe beak. About thirty-something people accompany the wagons, most of them on foot, others driving their own wagons. What are you doing in the Frozenfar? What are you doing in the caravan? What brings you to this cursed land?
((The image below sets the tone nicely for the Spine of the World, it should be just a bit darker in this eternal night (some twilight should reach the skies for only about 2 to 4 hours a day around noon). All of you start with a free set of cold weather clothing along with your starting equipment. Also, since you are Tier 1 in Adventurers League, you also start with Inspiration (remember to call it before the roll) and a potion of healing. You may all post your character introductions, keeping in mind that most of you are covered in enough layers of clothing to keep even familiar faces from being recognized out in the cold (with some exceptions). Along with your first post, please roll a d20 to determine who, if anyone, among the caravan your character might have gotten to know along the journey. And welcome to Icewind Dale :) ))
GROUP 1 BlueBayou playing Mihris, the Tiefling Cleric Apophis2000 playing Mialee Raethran, the Wood Elf Druid The_Mathemagician playing Vanys Darkblood, the Half-Elf Sorcerer Zwordsman playing Red, the Human Artificer
The half-elf of medium height shivers a little and draws his cloak in tighter. Very little can be seen of his face as it is covered in cloth and the rest of his body is no different. He had lost track of Red pretty quickly after they joined this caravan, but he always kept his eyes peeled for the alchemist. He glanced around at the others in the caravan, but with everyone's face covered it was nearly impossible to tell people apart. Shrugging Vanys continued to look around at the magnificent and terrifying ice that was formed by the Everlasting Rime.
Vanys, through the last few days you've gotten to know a bit of the priest Arsenio, hailing all the way back from Amn and spreading the faith of his deity Waukeen, Lady of Coin, claiming to be a missionary of his church sent North to spread his faith. Between other small talk, complaints about the awful weather, and emphasized offers to be happy to "accept your offerings to Waukeen so your lives may be more fortuitous from now on. Give! And ye shall receive, I always say!" the middle-aged priest shared remarks on other travelers, especially about one other, a young woman of Chultan descent he mentioned as Danai, the appearance of which he had many—if somewhat disgusting at times—compliments to, even if almost nothing of the seemingly young scholar can be seen under her attire. Other than that, Arsenio is accompanied by three servants of his temple, one hired guard at the side of his wagon, and one Amnian noble who joined the priest on pilgrimage.
You are somewhat able to track Red with your eyes, though when at times the alchemist moves more than 20 ft. away from you to explore the rest of the somewhat long caravan, you loose track of him and feel lost among strangers, particularly isolated. The howling wind picking up snow and blocking sight of most of the road ahead, the constant darkness, all of it contributing to your growing feeling of solitude. At times you catch yourself thinking on what in the Nine Hells drove you to this place.
Mihris tightened her grey-fur cloak around her neck a bit. She did not suffer from cold that much (just as High Priestess predicted she would not) but there is a big distance between "that much" and "not at all" - it was still cold here, even for her. The cleric looked at her companion that after days upon days of traveling together felt like a close friend - Mialee had it worse than her, but did not complain. Druids could handle themselves, but so did eldathyns, and neither were searching the easy paths.
Mihris was thankful to the Goddess (and the caravan master too) that guided her to these lands: she saw her mission to be even more important now, when the suffering of the place became so obvious. Even if she would not be the one who can find the cure, she intended to do everything in her power to learn all she could about the curse.
Inquiring others about the darkness and the obvious sufferable features of the land did not earn Mihris many friends among the caravan members, especially after some of them wide-eyed staring at the fact that she was able to uncover little—almost nothing—of her skin out to the biting wind. Even though they didn't outright shun her away, Mihris wasn't able to get to know any other of the caravan members aside from Mialee. She did meet the caravan master Ignazio when first joining the group, but mostly no one else. The most she was able to get out in matters of conversation was some odd remark that some of the ruins the caravan used as resting waystations along the way had distinct giant-ish markings and looks, some said assumingly part of some old kingdom named "Ostoria".
The cold shoulder (litarally too in this case) did not discourage Mihris. Her look was ... unconventional, to say the least - silvery grey skin, covered with scale in some places, ruby-red pupiless eyes, even if people could not see her horns, all of the above was enough for many to keep their distance. She was used to it. But everything can be overcomed with patience and kindness - that is the teaching and that is what Mihris believed in. For now she kept to herself and when weather allowed to talk, happily exchange a few words with Mialee.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Caravan friends roll:9
A little green riding hood is walking along with the caravan. Occasionally the small figure crouches down and picks up tiny pebbles. Some they put in their pocket, some they just throw away. This time the little one finds a translucent flintstone with perfect arrow head shape. The green riding hood lets out a cry of joy and holds the stone over a lantern which is attached to a wagon. The hood slides down, reveals braided ginger hair, a pair of pointy ears and sparkling green eyes.
A stranger might think an innocent child is playing with stones. But Mialee Raethran, although she is often mistaken for a human child or a slightly tall Halfling because of her short stature, is a young adult Elf woman and well trained Druid. Her act is more like a warrior carefully chooses their weapon rather than a kid collecting toys. "Ah little sister you are soooo pretty! I'll throw you the last!" ……Well that doesn't mean she isn't having fun though.
>>Mihris
"Miri look! Look what I've just found!" Mia proudly shows her new treasure to her friend Mihris. Her nose is red and running. But other than that the little druid looks as happy as she always be.
Over the days on the road from Luskan, Mialee displayed ever the bright mood even in the face of the worsening weather and darkness around her—much like how the blessed tree of Silvanus, Kuldahar, grew defiantly in the north side of the Spine of the World mountains, unabated by the biting cold around it.
One certain time after a frozen patch of road they crossed a few days back, Mialee was collecting stones at the side of the road when she saw a couple of humans seemingly doing the same, hurriedly searching for something buried in the snow and stowing it inside their clothes. Quickly bonding, Mialee approached the couple, both young, a man from the south-east and his sour-faced girlfriend, probably from the isles to the west by her auburn hair. The couple introduced themselves as Gerard and Ionna, the former always displaying a more upbeat mood and interacting more than his moody companion, “The things you do for a lass, huh? Could be taking a vacation on the warm beaches of Tethyr, but no, ended up stuck in this nice piece of weather, eh? Hah!” Gerard offered one time, though thoroughly as a joke, for he openly displayed his care for Ionna, who in the other hand had little in the way of warmth to offer to anyone. Other than that and daily talk over no particular subjects, Gerard offered only that they had been both moving away from "bad luck", and were on their way to visit Ionna's old grandmother in Dougan's Hole.
While this wasn't his primary plan, Red was accostomed to some cold-Just not this cold. Yet, between the wrapped clothing, as well as a few alchemically treated stones, he was about a warm as he was going to get on the caravan. Even bundled up with his purple scarf it was cold, the red tuff of hair poking out from his gear was frozen solid. Constantly alternating between hands in pockets, or holding a small glowing vial-not the smartest thing to hold such a volitile compound-but it was warm. He'd lost track of his traveling partner from prior to joining the caravan, a strange fellow Vanys, but quite an agreeable conversationalist. Thinking to himself, "I should've given him a glow stone, then could at least see easier, I miss dinner company" Red's jacket featured three small spots that glowed in light, closer inspection revealed them to be small ball bearings that were tied off with string. It was a risk to glow-but it was a greater risk that they or someone lose their way of the caravan. Frozen on his pack was his favored cooking set, not having had much of an occasion to cook on the road. Still he offered, as well as offered to steer if need be.
All Red can really think of is that the rumours of the curse were most certainly not exagerrated.
Spoiler=the 3 glowing motes of light and the vial.
Magical Tinkering. Up to 3 object at once. Each one" 5ft bright light radius+5ft dim light radius. 1 on his chest, one on his back, one on his right hand sleeve. The vial is just RPing him holding the Alchemist Fire he uses for the "bonfire" cantrip
Over the course of the last few days, Red's inventions drew the attention of some of the other caravan members, and though still warily, they approached and eventually even joined closer to share warm soup and beverages on waystation stops. One he had the opportunity of getting to now a bit better was Brita, a tall lady of few words and cutting remarks, one of the cold humans from the east, Vaasa or Damara probably. From what you saw, she has been journeying alone, and is very methodical in her actions, her trade goods neatly packed, tied, and folded in cloth covers, ceramics properly padded, that sort of thing. She seems proud and sure of herself—though very reserved—in interactions, bordering arrogance even, but never rude. Regarding others mostly with a cold smile, you talked a bit, and she shared "Just bringing a few goods to trade in Bryn Shander, and was hoping to get back south before winter settled, but it seems Shaundakul wasn’t on my side this time. Looks I'll have to spend a season with an old friend in Targos.” although any more prodding and she usually tightens up and bids you farewell for the day.
Noticing Red about ten feet away, seeing the stones glowing on his jacket, Vanys can make out his location relatively clearly and puts a little bounce in his step to catch up to the artificer. "Hey! How far out do you think we still are?" He glances around at the other members of the caravan looking for anyone else that looks out of place as he talks.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Waving a glowing dot of a sleeve, "Oh, Hey! Been a bit. Honestly I have no clue, I thought I was alright with maps and distances-but I've never trodded through days of blizzards. We'd have to ask a caravan driver I suspect. They haven't let me drive one, so I haven't seen any maps. " Taking a moment to mess with the orb on his chest, "You want a glowbug? Its hard to find anyone sometimes-Although it makes a happy target. But its not like we don't travel with torches in the caravan." Red motions around, neither of the two having a strong clue how much the avalanche nor the ice and snow has derailed the venture so far.
(If you want it, point out a bit of ornamental on your gear and he can light it up if its small. It'll make his chest one go out)
Concerning Brita (Would Red have managed to get Brita to tell him her favorite food? He would try to connect with food~) During the travels, when the opportunity strikes, Red makes Ration Stew, a simple stew using the ration pack, as well as various herbs, and a few more mundane chemicals from his kits. It creates a thickened minty then warming stew using the dried meat and fruit from the rations, to be served over the dry tact as if they were biscuits.
How well did Red cook for funsies17 +2 if Dex +5 if I can use Int for recipe/planning for snow cook
When Red offers a glowbug, Vanys shrugs and says, "Sure. It'll make us easier to find for each other if anything should go wrong." He points to a blue amulet at his neck and asks, "How about this?" Vanys also notices Red passing a vial between each of his hands and asks, "What's with the vial? Can't you just keep it in your pack?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Concerning Brita (Would Red have managed to get Brita to tell him her favorite food? He would try to connect with food~)
Brita is rather reserved—at least in this environment and journey—though Red might be able to, putting together her accent, clothes, and rough ethnicity estimate, take a wild guess about her homeland and maybe check if he knows what these people used to eat on these lands, which might or not be her childhood food. Make an Intelligence (History) check if you want to try that out. I'll give you advantage on the roll since Red is trained in Cook's Utensils.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
(Why not~)7 (If he gets a bead on it, he'll incorperate a bit of the flavor profile but isn't going to try and replicate it on the caravan. )
Nodding towards the amulet, Red takes out a small droplet, and drops 3 droplets, the amulet glows softely. "Probably a good call there, you can put the amulet in your clothing to smother it if need be. As for this vial.. Its actually something of a firebomb.. but its warm. Makes a great handwarmer, or camp fire starter. "
(Why not~)21 (If he gets a bead on it, he'll incorperate a bit of the flavor profile but isn't going to try and replicate it on the caravan. )
You clearly remember—either through research or through an exchange with another friendly cook connoisseur—once hearing comments on the cuisine of the distant north-east, a region known as the Bloodstone Lands. Far from any shore, you know most of their seasonings wouldn't be available here, but some similar enough would be available within your gear. You know their usual food as game meat, pea soups, cabbage rolls and a yoghurt-like fermented milk. It's all a wild guess taking from her accent and looks, but it's all you have to work with, maybe it could break the ice once the caravan briefly stops for lunch at the next waystation.
"That's the best one so far," nodded Mihris to Mia's enthusiasm. To be completely fair, she did not share her friend's fascination with the rocks, but was genuinely happy to see her excitement, that survived (or helped to survive) the incredible cold of this place. The spark of light attract her attention for a moment: "Saw this? Looks like the "glowing one"", (Mihris did not know Red's name) "found someone to share light with."The phrase was a bit loaded, though she did not mean it - cold made even her thoughts slow and clumsy.
Vanys smiles as his amulet brightens up, but his face quickly develops into shock once Red says what his vial was filled with. Curiously Vanys asks, "A fire bomb! Aren't you afraid that it's going to explode?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Days go by uneasily on the road, and though tensions run high, they are more or less the same, too much snow and too little comfort. The caravan expects to reach Bryn Shander three days from now or the day after that, it's hard to measure distances and time through this constant fog and lack of sunlight. As the caravan master announces the one-hour stop for lunch and for the beasts to rest in whatever twilight makes up highsun now, the wagons settle against a rocky outcropping for some wind break, and groups gather up to light up fires and thaw their soups.
You all happen to gather up with some familiar, if somewhat cold, faces of the last days on the road, circling around a small campfire to warm up both joints and food. Among the others in your circle you see a middle-aged priestess dressed in red garments, you notice as she looks your way but hesitates and looks away, then again as something inside her seems to build up courage, then she finally approaches your group. As she approaches you are able to see her tired demeanor and darkened circles around her eyes, she motions for you to gather close and whispers “Blessings of the Morninglord upon you, fellow travelers. I- I beg your pardon, but you have the look of adventurers about you." she awkwardly points towards all the gear you've been carrying, "Please, don't get me wrong, I'm a retired adventurer myself. I am Mithann, devout servant of the Glory of Dawn, our bright lord Sun. If you would but listen, I have a few words to share, ones that I held in secrecy for days, but now I fear they’re far beyond just that.” the priestess seems in turmoil, and looks around to see if anyone else is listening in, but the howling wind seems to take enough account of that, "Listen, I need help. I carry important materials with me, crucial for the survival of the people of Ten-Towns, but it seems that those that work against me are closer and know more than I anticipated. You surely heard the rumors of cultists infiltrated among us, right?"
"Praised be the gods," Mihris lowered her head in greetings and made a welcoming gesture, "you are welcome to share our fire, Mithann. Yes, I am afraid rumors spread faster than praises but from your words - these are not rumors?"Tiefling tilted her head, listening not only politely but quite intently too.
A caravan carrying essential materials for a divine ritual that aims to help the people of Bryn Shander stave off the brunt of the Rime of the Frostmaiden attempts to make it through the treacherous passes along the Spine of the World. However, suspicions fall upon the caravan members as some suspect it has been infiltrated by the Cult of Auril itself, threatening the ritual and the brave travelers that try to reach Ten-Towns with crucial supplies.
North of the Spine of the World and west of the towering Reghed Glacier is a frigid expanse few dare to explore, let alone inhabit. This icy land of windswept tundra recently became locked in a perpetual, dark winter without reprieve. Auril the Frostmaiden, the divine embodiment of winter's fury, has withdrawn to this cold corner of the world to live among mortals. Further, she has cast a terrible spell over Icewind Dale, to the detriment of most of its denizens.
Each night before midnight, Auril takes to the sky on the back of a white roc and weaves her spell, which manifests as a shimmering curtain of light—a beautiful aurora that illuminates the night sky and fades before dawn. This powerful magic prevents the next day's sun from rising above the horizon, turning midday into twilight and trapping Icewind Dale in winter's dark embrace, with no sunlight or warmth to melt the snow and ice. Each casting of the spell also further barricades the mountain passes with blizzards and churn the Sea of Moving Ice with blistering winds. Such measures discourage travelers from approaching or leaving Icewind Dale, further isolating the region. Icewind Dale has thus been trapped in a different reality from the rest of the world, for though the sun never rises over the dale, it continues to rise everywhere else.
The people of Icewind Dale know Auril's wrath when they feel it, and they have a name for the unending winter she has inflicted on them. They call it the Everlasting Rime. No one understands why the Frostmaiden has imposed her will in this way or why the other gods refuse to challenge her. This prolonged winter, which has gone on for more than two years, threatens to doom not just the flickering lights of civilization known as Ten-Towns but also the indigenous flora and fauna that need sunlight and the change of seasons to survive.
Mihris, under orders from her superiors in Duskwood Dell—an Eldathyn grove far to the south, beyond Baldur's Gate—travelled months on end to reach the north, hearing ever more alarming news of the curse that befell Icewind Dale, locking it in perpetual winter, a condition that her deity would not allow to linger. On the road, somewhere when passing around Waterdeep, Mihris eventually met with a recent travelling companion, the wood elf Mialee, with whom she discussed the travel up north. Mialee herself was under a similar objective on her journeys, for after sharing with her druidic mentors her dreams—involving the great blessed tree of Kuldahar—she was tasked with investigating the situation, a task which would prove her abilities and dedication, and have her earn the worth of being called a druid of the High Forest. Eventually the two travelling companions made their way to Luskan, city of Sails, and after a few arrangements, secured their spots on a caravan heading towards Icewind Dale.
Vanys had been treading the ups and downs of the Spine of the World for days, his thirst for arcane knowledge and power pushing him forward deep into orcish territory, but poor planning and conditions eventually won out—and the nightmares and visions didn't help either. Eventually found by a group of local trappers half-buried in the snow and almost frostbitten, and brought back to their camp. While recovering back in the camp, Vanys got to know another traveler that had hired the group of trappers as guides for his journey, the alchemist known as Red, and the two traded stories about the lost artifacts of the north, especially those that usually drew the most attention among researchers like them, those of Netherese origin, that were rumored to be scattered about all the region, deep in the snow. Due to the ever worsening conditions and darkness of the region, the trappers eventually decided to head towards the largest road, the Ten Trail, and then make their way more easily towards Ten-Towns.
To make it through the treacherous North-South in the Spine of the World mountains, all of you joined the caravan of Ignazio Gallo, a rotund Chondathan human caravan master that departed his trail of many wagons from Luskan some tendays ago. Either having joined the other travelers all the way back in Luskan or on the road, you've all witnessed as the caravan crossed the pass and narrowly dodged a deadly avalanche just as the pass was completely blocked off by snow. Whatever destiny you had in mind, your only option for survival seems to be following the caravan all the way to its destination, the largest of the Ten-Towns, Bryn Shander.
The journey through the dark cold is difficult and humorless, travelers mostly keeping to themselves and those whom they already know—which is hard to tell apart under so many layers of fur and gear. The chilling wind bites to the bone and almost deafens you, but some may imagine it is a relief from the sounds of the wilderness night around that you might hearing otherwise. These fears have been presented way before you joined the caravan, but a few days back the rumors spread around the wagons that someone in the caravan was an infiltrated cultist, a servant of the Frostmaiden herself, seeking to bring misfortune upon the travelers, maybe even offer their souls to Auril in sacrifice in some way. The travelers have been on edge, lack of sleeps dulls your senses and judgement, but no one has come to accusations. So far.
The caravan is composed of a total of eleven wagons, each carried by either two draft horses, an ox, or even a white axe beak. About thirty-something people accompany the wagons, most of them on foot, others driving their own wagons. What are you doing in the Frozenfar? What are you doing in the caravan? What brings you to this cursed land?
((The image below sets the tone nicely for the Spine of the World, it should be just a bit darker in this eternal night (some twilight should reach the skies for only about 2 to 4 hours a day around noon). All of you start with a free set of cold weather clothing along with your starting equipment. Also, since you are Tier 1 in Adventurers League, you also start with Inspiration (remember to call it before the roll) and a potion of healing. You may all post your character introductions, keeping in mind that most of you are covered in enough layers of clothing to keep even familiar faces from being recognized out in the cold (with some exceptions). Along with your first post, please roll a d20 to determine who, if anyone, among the caravan your character might have gotten to know along the journey. And welcome to Icewind Dale :) ))
GROUP 1
BlueBayou playing Mihris, the Tiefling Cleric
Apophis2000 playing Mialee Raethran, the Wood Elf Druid
The_Mathemagician playing Vanys Darkblood, the Half-Elf Sorcerer
Zwordsman playing Red, the Human Artificer
Art Portfolio
Who I Know: 3
The half-elf of medium height shivers a little and draws his cloak in tighter. Very little can be seen of his face as it is covered in cloth and the rest of his body is no different. He had lost track of Red pretty quickly after they joined this caravan, but he always kept his eyes peeled for the alchemist. He glanced around at the others in the caravan, but with everyone's face covered it was nearly impossible to tell people apart. Shrugging Vanys continued to look around at the magnificent and terrifying ice that was formed by the Everlasting Rime.
Perception: 9
(OOC: I'll wait to do formal introductions after I know whether Vanys knows anybody else in the caravan.)
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Vanys, through the last few days you've gotten to know a bit of the priest Arsenio, hailing all the way back from Amn and spreading the faith of his deity Waukeen, Lady of Coin, claiming to be a missionary of his church sent North to spread his faith. Between other small talk, complaints about the awful weather, and emphasized offers to be happy to "accept your offerings to Waukeen so your lives may be more fortuitous from now on. Give! And ye shall receive, I always say!" the middle-aged priest shared remarks on other travelers, especially about one other, a young woman of Chultan descent he mentioned as Danai, the appearance of which he had many—if somewhat disgusting at times—compliments to, even if almost nothing of the seemingly young scholar can be seen under her attire. Other than that, Arsenio is accompanied by three servants of his temple, one hired guard at the side of his wagon, and one Amnian noble who joined the priest on pilgrimage.
You are somewhat able to track Red with your eyes, though when at times the alchemist moves more than 20 ft. away from you to explore the rest of the somewhat long caravan, you loose track of him and feel lost among strangers, particularly isolated. The howling wind picking up snow and blocking sight of most of the road ahead, the constant darkness, all of it contributing to your growing feeling of solitude. At times you catch yourself thinking on what in the Nine Hells drove you to this place.
Art Portfolio
Caravan friends roll: 20
Mihris tightened her grey-fur cloak around her neck a bit. She did not suffer from cold that much (just as High Priestess predicted she would not) but there is a big distance between "that much" and "not at all" - it was still cold here, even for her. The cleric looked at her companion that after days upon days of traveling together felt like a close friend - Mialee had it worse than her, but did not complain. Druids could handle themselves, but so did eldathyns, and neither were searching the easy paths.
Mihris was thankful to the Goddess (and the caravan master too) that guided her to these lands: she saw her mission to be even more important now, when the suffering of the place became so obvious. Even if she would not be the one who can find the cure, she intended to do everything in her power to learn all she could about the curse.
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
Inquiring others about the darkness and the obvious sufferable features of the land did not earn Mihris many friends among the caravan members, especially after some of them wide-eyed staring at the fact that she was able to uncover little—almost nothing—of her skin out to the biting wind. Even though they didn't outright shun her away, Mihris wasn't able to get to know any other of the caravan members aside from Mialee. She did meet the caravan master Ignazio when first joining the group, but mostly no one else. The most she was able to get out in matters of conversation was some odd remark that some of the ruins the caravan used as resting waystations along the way had distinct giant-ish markings and looks, some said assumingly part of some old kingdom named "Ostoria".
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The cold shoulder (litarally too in this case) did not discourage Mihris. Her look was ... unconventional, to say the least - silvery grey skin, covered with scale in some places, ruby-red pupiless eyes, even if people could not see her horns, all of the above was enough for many to keep their distance. She was used to it. But everything can be overcomed with patience and kindness - that is the teaching and that is what Mihris believed in. For now she kept to herself and when weather allowed to talk, happily exchange a few words with Mialee.
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
Caravan friends roll:9
A little green riding hood is walking along with the caravan. Occasionally the small figure crouches down and picks up tiny pebbles. Some they put in their pocket, some they just throw away. This time the little one finds a translucent flintstone with perfect arrow head shape. The green riding hood lets out a cry of joy and holds the stone over a lantern which is attached to a wagon. The hood slides down, reveals braided ginger hair, a pair of pointy ears and sparkling green eyes.
A stranger might think an innocent child is playing with stones. But Mialee Raethran, although she is often mistaken for a human child or a slightly tall Halfling because of her short stature, is a young adult Elf woman and well trained Druid. Her act is more like a warrior carefully chooses their weapon rather than a kid collecting toys. "Ah little sister you are soooo pretty! I'll throw you the last!" ……Well that doesn't mean she isn't having fun though.
>>Mihris
"Miri look! Look what I've just found!" Mia proudly shows her new treasure to her friend Mihris. Her nose is red and running. But other than that the little druid looks as happy as she always be.
Over the days on the road from Luskan, Mialee displayed ever the bright mood even in the face of the worsening weather and darkness around her—much like how the blessed tree of Silvanus, Kuldahar, grew defiantly in the north side of the Spine of the World mountains, unabated by the biting cold around it.
One certain time after a frozen patch of road they crossed a few days back, Mialee was collecting stones at the side of the road when she saw a couple of humans seemingly doing the same, hurriedly searching for something buried in the snow and stowing it inside their clothes. Quickly bonding, Mialee approached the couple, both young, a man from the south-east and his sour-faced girlfriend, probably from the isles to the west by her auburn hair. The couple introduced themselves as Gerard and Ionna, the former always displaying a more upbeat mood and interacting more than his moody companion, “The things you do for a lass, huh? Could be taking a vacation on the warm beaches of Tethyr, but no, ended up stuck in this nice piece of weather, eh? Hah!” Gerard offered one time, though thoroughly as a joke, for he openly displayed his care for Ionna, who in the other hand had little in the way of warmth to offer to anyone. Other than that and daily talk over no particular subjects, Gerard offered only that they had been both moving away from "bad luck", and were on their way to visit Ionna's old grandmother in Dougan's Hole.
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6
While this wasn't his primary plan, Red was accostomed to some cold-Just not this cold. Yet, between the wrapped clothing, as well as a few alchemically treated stones, he was about a warm as he was going to get on the caravan. Even bundled up with his purple scarf it was cold, the red tuff of hair poking out from his gear was frozen solid. Constantly alternating between hands in pockets, or holding a small glowing vial-not the smartest thing to hold such a volitile compound-but it was warm. He'd lost track of his traveling partner from prior to joining the caravan, a strange fellow Vanys, but quite an agreeable conversationalist. Thinking to himself, "I should've given him a glow stone, then could at least see easier, I miss dinner company" Red's jacket featured three small spots that glowed in light, closer inspection revealed them to be small ball bearings that were tied off with string. It was a risk to glow-but it was a greater risk that they or someone lose their way of the caravan. Frozen on his pack was his favored cooking set, not having had much of an occasion to cook on the road. Still he offered, as well as offered to steer if need be.
All Red can really think of is that the rumours of the curse were most certainly not exagerrated.
Spoiler=the 3 glowing motes of light and the vial.
Magical Tinkering. Up to 3 object at once. Each one" 5ft bright light radius+5ft dim light radius. 1 on his chest, one on his back, one on his right hand sleeve.
The vial is just RPing him holding the Alchemist Fire he uses for the "bonfire" cantrip
Over the course of the last few days, Red's inventions drew the attention of some of the other caravan members, and though still warily, they approached and eventually even joined closer to share warm soup and beverages on waystation stops. One he had the opportunity of getting to now a bit better was Brita, a tall lady of few words and cutting remarks, one of the cold humans from the east, Vaasa or Damara probably. From what you saw, she has been journeying alone, and is very methodical in her actions, her trade goods neatly packed, tied, and folded in cloth covers, ceramics properly padded, that sort of thing. She seems proud and sure of herself—though very reserved—in interactions, bordering arrogance even, but never rude. Regarding others mostly with a cold smile, you talked a bit, and she shared "Just bringing a few goods to trade in Bryn Shander, and was hoping to get back south before winter settled, but it seems Shaundakul wasn’t on my side this time. Looks I'll have to spend a season with an old friend in Targos.” although any more prodding and she usually tightens up and bids you farewell for the day.
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Noticing Red about ten feet away, seeing the stones glowing on his jacket, Vanys can make out his location relatively clearly and puts a little bounce in his step to catch up to the artificer. "Hey! How far out do you think we still are?" He glances around at the other members of the caravan looking for anyone else that looks out of place as he talks.
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Waving a glowing dot of a sleeve, "Oh, Hey! Been a bit. Honestly I have no clue, I thought I was alright with maps and distances-but I've never trodded through days of blizzards. We'd have to ask a caravan driver I suspect. They haven't let me drive one, so I haven't seen any maps. " Taking a moment to mess with the orb on his chest, "You want a glowbug? Its hard to find anyone sometimes-Although it makes a happy target. But its not like we don't travel with torches in the caravan." Red motions around, neither of the two having a strong clue how much the avalanche nor the ice and snow has derailed the venture so far.
(If you want it, point out a bit of ornamental on your gear and he can light it up if its small. It'll make his chest one go out)
Concerning Brita
(Would Red have managed to get Brita to tell him her favorite food? He would try to connect with food~)
During the travels, when the opportunity strikes, Red makes Ration Stew, a simple stew using the ration pack, as well as various herbs, and a few more mundane chemicals from his kits. It creates a thickened minty then warming stew using the dried meat and fruit from the rations, to be served over the dry tact as if they were biscuits.
How well did Red cook for funsies17 +2 if Dex +5 if I can use Int for recipe/planning for snow cook
When Red offers a glowbug, Vanys shrugs and says, "Sure. It'll make us easier to find for each other if anything should go wrong." He points to a blue amulet at his neck and asks, "How about this?" Vanys also notices Red passing a vial between each of his hands and asks, "What's with the vial? Can't you just keep it in your pack?"
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Brita is rather reserved—at least in this environment and journey—though Red might be able to, putting together her accent, clothes, and rough ethnicity estimate, take a wild guess about her homeland and maybe check if he knows what these people used to eat on these lands, which might or not be her childhood food. Make an Intelligence (History) check if you want to try that out. I'll give you advantage on the roll since Red is trained in Cook's Utensils.
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(Why not~)7 (If he gets a bead on it, he'll incorperate a bit of the flavor profile but isn't going to try and replicate it on the caravan. )
Nodding towards the amulet, Red takes out a small droplet, and drops 3 droplets, the amulet glows softely. "Probably a good call there, you can put the amulet in your clothing to smother it if need be. As for this vial.. Its actually something of a firebomb.. but its warm. Makes a great handwarmer, or camp fire starter. "
You clearly remember—either through research or through an exchange with another friendly cook connoisseur—once hearing comments on the cuisine of the distant north-east, a region known as the Bloodstone Lands. Far from any shore, you know most of their seasonings wouldn't be available here, but some similar enough would be available within your gear. You know their usual food as game meat, pea soups, cabbage rolls and a yoghurt-like fermented milk. It's all a wild guess taking from her accent and looks, but it's all you have to work with, maybe it could break the ice once the caravan briefly stops for lunch at the next waystation.
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"That's the best one so far," nodded Mihris to Mia's enthusiasm. To be completely fair, she did not share her friend's fascination with the rocks, but was genuinely happy to see her excitement, that survived (or helped to survive) the incredible cold of this place. The spark of light attract her attention for a moment: "Saw this? Looks like the "glowing one"", (Mihris did not know Red's name) "found someone to share light with." The phrase was a bit loaded, though she did not mean it - cold made even her thoughts slow and clumsy.
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
Vanys smiles as his amulet brightens up, but his face quickly develops into shock once Red says what his vial was filled with. Curiously Vanys asks, "A fire bomb! Aren't you afraid that it's going to explode?"
“The mark of a successful DM is when you have caused more player deaths with doors than dragons, demons, or devils.”
Days go by uneasily on the road, and though tensions run high, they are more or less the same, too much snow and too little comfort. The caravan expects to reach Bryn Shander
three days from now or the day after that, it's hard to measure distances and time through this constant fog and lack of sunlight. As the caravan master announces the one-hour stop for lunch and for the beasts to rest in whatever twilight makes up highsun now, the wagons settle against a rocky outcropping for some wind break, and groups gather up to light up fires and thaw their soups.
You all happen to gather up with some familiar, if somewhat cold, faces of the last days on the road, circling around a small campfire to warm up both joints and food. Among the others in your circle you see a middle-aged priestess dressed in red garments, you notice as she looks your way but hesitates and looks away, then again as something inside her seems to build up courage, then she finally approaches your group. As she approaches you are able to see her tired demeanor and darkened circles around her eyes, she motions for you to gather close and whispers “Blessings of the Morninglord upon you, fellow travelers. I- I beg your pardon, but you have the look of adventurers about you." she awkwardly points towards all the gear you've been carrying, "Please, don't get me wrong, I'm a retired adventurer myself. I am Mithann, devout servant of the Glory of Dawn, our bright lord Sun. If you would but listen, I have a few words to share, ones that I held in secrecy for days, but now I fear they’re far beyond just that.” the priestess seems in turmoil, and looks around to see if anyone else is listening in, but the howling wind seems to take enough account of that, "Listen, I need help. I carry important materials with me, crucial for the survival of the people of Ten-Towns, but it seems that those that work against me are closer and know more than I anticipated. You surely heard the rumors of cultists infiltrated among us, right?"
Mithann
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"Praised be the gods," Mihris lowered her head in greetings and made a welcoming gesture, "you are welcome to share our fire, Mithann. Yes, I am afraid rumors spread faster than praises but from your words - these are not rumors?" Tiefling tilted her head, listening not only politely but quite intently too.
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice