“Thank God for this Ale-and-piss soaked human,” Faenys thought as she watched Bröbean race for the door and packed up her things ready to follow him. “The quicker we get out of this hell-hole the better...Dwarves or no Dwarves.”
She stepped out into the biting wind of the street and spluttered as a snow flurry hit her square in the face.
Icewind Dale was difficult to navigate at the best of times, lots of narrow and winding streets and roundabouts to turn you around and mess with your sense of direction, and in a snowstorm it was even harder. But Faenys was an Outlander and a Wanderer, so she was a world class way-finder. Maps and directions were her thing!
The wind was howling too much to talk so she set off with conviction in the direction of the High Street, hoping her companions would notice her confidence and follow her lead.
Bröbean was off before Salazar could say another word. As he reached under the table he eyed the Dwarfs curiously, wondering if they possibly might have had a little more detail on the wild beast that tore them apart, his finger hooked the winter coat he had slept on last night.
Faenys dashed after the valient human and they both quickly disappeared into the white winter haze.
Salazar edged around the copse of dwarves as they stood silently, it was eerie how they silently stared back. He neared the tavern door, still ajar and leaking snow into the warm common room. Salazar whipped the cloak around his shoulders with a flourish and snatched up his travel pack. The cloak clearly wasn't his, it was at least twice as long as necessary.
Before stepping out behind his companions he called back to scramsox and pointed to the battered Dwarf's "these guys will, ah... Pick up the tab" and with a wink he too vanished into the cold.
Apache wasted no time with pleasant parting words, her ears laid flat and she winced as she stepped out into the flurry of snow.
Glad for her fur and the thick leather clothing, she hurried up the street to catch the group moving forward with purpose. They seemed an odd bunch, but not without charm - they all appeared keen to set out on an adventure, which Apache was in desperate need of. The towns were full of grime and greed, how she longed to trek through the wilds again... "Soon..." she promised herself, as she fell in step behind Salazar. As she followed the group, she looked back over her shoulder regularly, eyeing the dark corners and doorways carefully. Apache had no enemies in this town, but was in no mood to be set upon by thieves or thugs.
The street you are following is a straight path to the centre of Bryn Shander. It is barely wide enough for two carts to pass and there are numerous narrower roads and alleys branching off in either direction. As you approach the centre of the township you see the sign for “Blackiron Blades” a well-known smithy and outfitter, further ahead you can see the cluster of makeshift stalls and carts of a busy marketplace.
Either location would be suitable to supply you for the quest.
Apache eyes the bustling market place, opting to go towards the door of Blackiron Blades instead. She guestures to the door and says to the group "If the prices there are manageable, it will be worth avoiding the crowds... unless you enjoy being pressed in a mass of unwashed bodies...."
Salazar wandered a little past the store front and cast his eyes over the market, lots of opportunities, but also plenty of watching eyes. Too busy... Too tempting...
Better to play it straight for now, he followed the cat and her flicking tail. Slinking into the warm glow of the forge Salazar immediately began to paw through the stock hanging around the store.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Faenys slipped down a side alleyway to the back of Blackiron Blades. A few broken crates littered the alleyway and glass crunched underfoot. Above her head a clothes line swung in the blowing wind. A pair of floral underpants was torn from the line and tumbled off down the street.
“Why would anyone hang their knickers out in this storm?” she thought to herself as she crept past.
As she’d hoped, there was a back entrance! She looked through a dusty window and saw boxes and boxes of stock leaning against the wall.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Salazar pawed through the boring collection of hammers, picks and rope... *sigh*
The hair on the back of his neck raised and he noted that the agitated elf hadn't followed. It was a weird feeling that overcame him. "mischief is afoot" he whispered.
As Fiadh glided into the store front he slipped through the door before it closed and found himself back in the street.
His ears pricked at the crack of glass and whipped his head to the alley. "I knew it, that cheeky elf!"
Salazar pulled the oversized cloak around him, it's dirty grey was the colour of the sleet slaked cobblestones and he faded away from sight.
You successfully enter the room but the lock is broken in the process. Casual observation by the owner or anyone familiar with the door will identify that it has been forced.
You are in a storage area separated from the main shop by a wooden wall, a door in the wall leads presumably to the shop. There are shelves full of common items as well as boxes of smithing supplies. One wall contains a rack of broken or disused smithing tools. In the corner opposite you there is a narrow staircase that leads upwards to an open doorway.
Salazar's silent exit through the door goes unnoticed by the shopkeepers who are distracted by the entrance of potential customers. The proprietors are a pair of Shield Dwarves who introduce themselves as Garn the Hammer and his sister Elza. Garn mans, or dwarves, the forge to the left side of the store while the right is crowded with shelves of adventuring gear that Elza proudly offers to the newcomers "Everything from rations to cold weather gear and ice picks".
Salazar:
While your exit goes unnoticed, that is unfortunately the extent of your stealth. For as you dramatically throw your 'borrowed' cloak about yourself and slink down the alley, you are visible to everyone in the shop through a number of large windows that look out towards the alley.
Anyone in the shop who happens to look, and both the dwarves do, sees Salazar very dramatically slinking down the alley like some kind of oversized walking bat. With a shake of their heads the dwarves return their attention to their new customers.
Fiadh rolled her eyes at the others and dropped a pair of snow shoes on the counter.
”just these please.” She slid the gold across the counter to the shopkeep.
she would have to keep in mind to shop separately from the rest of the group in the future....
After purchasing her gear and placing them in her rucksack, Fiadh crept down the alley (beneath the height of the very obvious windows) to find out what mischief her companions were getting themselves into.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Faenys crept through the storeroom and rummaged through the first box, coming up with a grappling hook, a switch blade and a music box. She pocketed the music box, thinking it would make a good accompaniment to her lute, and moved on.
Stealth: 1
She kept looking through boxes searching for equipment that might help in their quest. She was hoping that, along with the crampons or snowshoes, she might find some rope, maybe a pickaxe, a flint...anything that could help them in their quest.
Salazar, watched faenys curiously. He felt clumsy compared to the nimble elf, she deftly swept through the storeroom barely making a noise, it was impressive to watch. Alas his curiosity dried quickly as she failed to find anything of interest. The stairs likely lead to the proprietors living quarters, picking through dwarven underwear was not his favourite past time but it might yield some valuables, or better; secrets.
Fiadh entered the storeroom behind him with two netted disks stuffed into her rucksack, he assumed these to be the shoes they were supposed to be buying and he dismissed any ideas of further mischief. Best not upset the only established supplier just YET, Dwarves have a habit of holding grudges for a long time.
Instead, Salazar beckoned to Faenys and urged her to abandon the search. "nothing here" he mouthed silently.
Fingering the last few coins in his purse, he wondered how much these strange shoes were going to cost him...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Bröbean followed the others into the store and after watching their antics, he approached the proprietor at the counter.
"We're heading out of town for a short time. We'll take some snow shoes each and anything else you suggest that will keep us out of trouble. The Dwarves Hruna, Korux and Storn are funding our travels, put it all on their account"
Your search turns up nothing of use or value, it seems the harsh and prolonged winter has depleted their stores down to what remains on the shelves out the front.
Bröbean:
Garn looks like he is about to protest but, after a moment of contemplation, he nods his head slightly. "Then you must be the adventurers they were looking for" he waves for Elza to begin packing the requested supplies "though I didn't realise they were offering to outfit the party. Elza here will gather everything you need and I'll throw in some ice picks too, you never know when they'll come in handy"
The requested supplies are arranged neatly in five small bundles on the counter "I'd say good luck, but I don't think you'll need it, such fine upstanding folk as you are" Garn smiles warmly at Bröbean.
Faenys kicked aside another empty box in frustration.
Through the door to the shop she could hear the grumble of voices as Bröbean bargained successfully with the shop keeper, convincing him to put the gear on the Dwarves tab.
“Crafty!” She thought as she left the storeroom and hurried back around to the front of the store. “That tab is piling up pretty quickly though, what with the gear and the beers. I hope the Dwarves don’t notice til we leave town...”
She’d have to watch that Bröbean...he might even be sneakier than her.
Falling in behind the others with snowshoes and crampons (whatever they are..) in hand Salazar was eager to set off and get on the road. The luxuries of Bryn Shander had already drained his purse and if he was to realise his ambition he would have to earn a little more coin, a gemstone would go some ways towards his goal but dwarven favour would likely go further in this part of the world.
"So which way nah? Do we know where dem dwarves were commin' from? Where's ta nearest iron mine? Howdya reckon we're gonna get dat sled back 'ere?"
Then after a breath, he pointed to an unseen thought above his head; "wassa yeti?"
A small figure heads towards you, as it emerges from the swirling drifts of snow you see that it is a small child, bundled head to toe in thick furs and running towards you at a dead sprint. The Urchin screeches to a halt before you and doubles over trying to catch their breath. After a moment of laboured breathing, they offer you a scrunched-up cloth “Hruna said you forgot to ask for directions”.
Examining the cloth you can see that it is an old dish rag, presumably from the tavern, on it is a hastily drawn map showing Bryn Shander and the relative location of where the dwarves lost the sled.
Fiadh takes the map into her hands and scans it, letting out a large sigh.
“Well this is a sorry excuse for a map...”
she runs her fingers along the markings, “are these roads? Is this supposed to be the forest?I don’t know if we can count on this map... but I’m used to the forest. Stick with me and we shouldnt get lost.”
(As a “natural explorer” Fiadh and her group cannot become lost (except by magical means) when travelling in the forest as this is her favoured terrain)
Faenys followed the elf through the cobbled streets with mounting excitement. The quest was afoot!
The wrought iron gates out of the town swung open and the group filed out.
It was not a forest. It was a barren wasteland of frozen tundra. The wind whipped up the top layer of snow and it spun in flurries around them. The hazy lines of moonlight weakly poked out from behind the clouds. Although weak, the light from the moon was blinding as it glinted off the white of the snow. Faenys wrapped her scarf tightly around her face.
“Well...” she said slowly to Fiadh, “I guess your skills in forest lore and tracking will be stretched.”
She turned to the rest of the group, ”what do you say to just setting out in a straight line that way?”
“Thank God for this Ale-and-piss soaked human,” Faenys thought as she watched Bröbean race for the door and packed up her things ready to follow him. “The quicker we get out of this hell-hole the better...Dwarves or no Dwarves.”
She stepped out into the biting wind of the street and spluttered as a snow flurry hit her square in the face.
Icewind Dale was difficult to navigate at the best of times, lots of narrow and winding streets and roundabouts to turn you around and mess with your sense of direction, and in a snowstorm it was even harder. But Faenys was an Outlander and a Wanderer, so she was a world class way-finder. Maps and directions were her thing!
The wind was howling too much to talk so she set off with conviction in the direction of the High Street, hoping her companions would notice her confidence and follow her lead.
Bröbean was off before Salazar could say another word. As he reached under the table he eyed the Dwarfs curiously, wondering if they possibly might have had a little more detail on the wild beast that tore them apart, his finger hooked the winter coat he had slept on last night.
Faenys dashed after the valient human and they both quickly disappeared into the white winter haze.
Salazar edged around the copse of dwarves as they stood silently, it was eerie how they silently stared back. He neared the tavern door, still ajar and leaking snow into the warm common room. Salazar whipped the cloak around his shoulders with a flourish and snatched up his travel pack. The cloak clearly wasn't his, it was at least twice as long as necessary.
Before stepping out behind his companions he called back to scramsox and pointed to the battered Dwarf's "these guys will, ah... Pick up the tab" and with a wink he too vanished into the cold.
Apache wasted no time with pleasant parting words, her ears laid flat and she winced as she stepped out into the flurry of snow.
Glad for her fur and the thick leather clothing, she hurried up the street to catch the group moving forward with purpose. They seemed an odd bunch, but not without charm - they all appeared keen to set out on an adventure, which Apache was in desperate need of. The towns were full of grime and greed, how she longed to trek through the wilds again... "Soon..." she promised herself, as she fell in step behind Salazar. As she followed the group, she looked back over her shoulder regularly, eyeing the dark corners and doorways carefully. Apache had no enemies in this town, but was in no mood to be set upon by thieves or thugs.
The street you are following is a straight path to the centre of Bryn Shander. It is barely wide enough for two carts to pass and there are numerous narrower roads and alleys branching off in either direction. As you approach the centre of the township you see the sign for “Blackiron Blades” a well-known smithy and outfitter, further ahead you can see the cluster of makeshift stalls and carts of a busy marketplace.
Either location would be suitable to supply you for the quest.
Apache eyes the bustling market place, opting to go towards the door of Blackiron Blades instead. She guestures to the door and says to the group "If the prices there are manageable, it will be worth avoiding the crowds... unless you enjoy being pressed in a mass of unwashed bodies...."
Salazar wandered a little past the store front and cast his eyes over the market, lots of opportunities, but also plenty of watching eyes. Too busy... Too tempting...
Better to play it straight for now, he followed the cat and her flicking tail. Slinking into the warm glow of the forge Salazar immediately began to paw through the stock hanging around the store.
Faenys slipped down a side alleyway to the back of Blackiron Blades. A few broken crates littered the alleyway and glass crunched underfoot. Above her head a clothes line swung in the blowing wind. A pair of floral underpants was torn from the line and tumbled off down the street.
“Why would anyone hang their knickers out in this storm?” she thought to herself as she crept past.
As she’d hoped, there was a back entrance! She looked through a dusty window and saw boxes and boxes of stock leaning against the wall.
”Bingo!” She said.
She picked the lock and crept in.
14
Salazar pawed through the boring collection of hammers, picks and rope... *sigh*
The hair on the back of his neck raised and he noted that the agitated elf hadn't followed. It was a weird feeling that overcame him. "mischief is afoot" he whispered.
As Fiadh glided into the store front he slipped through the door before it closed and found himself back in the street.
His ears pricked at the crack of glass and whipped his head to the alley. "I knew it, that cheeky elf!"
Salazar pulled the oversized cloak around him, it's dirty grey was the colour of the sleet slaked cobblestones and he faded away from sight.
4
Faenys:
You successfully enter the room but the lock is broken in the process. Casual observation by the owner or anyone familiar with the door will identify that it has been forced.
You are in a storage area separated from the main shop by a wooden wall, a door in the wall leads presumably to the shop. There are shelves full of common items as well as boxes of smithing supplies. One wall contains a rack of broken or disused smithing tools. In the corner opposite you there is a narrow staircase that leads upwards to an open doorway.
Salazar's silent exit through the door goes unnoticed by the shopkeepers who are distracted by the entrance of potential customers. The proprietors are a pair of Shield Dwarves who introduce themselves as Garn the Hammer and his sister Elza. Garn mans, or dwarves, the forge to the left side of the store while the right is crowded with shelves of adventuring gear that Elza proudly offers to the newcomers "Everything from rations to cold weather gear and ice picks".
Salazar:
While your exit goes unnoticed, that is unfortunately the extent of your stealth. For as you dramatically throw your 'borrowed' cloak about yourself and slink down the alley, you are visible to everyone in the shop through a number of large windows that look out towards the alley.
Anyone in the shop who happens to look, and both the dwarves do, sees Salazar very dramatically slinking down the alley like some kind of oversized walking bat. With a shake of their heads the dwarves return their attention to their new customers.
Fiadh rolled her eyes at the others and dropped a pair of snow shoes on the counter.
”just these please.” She slid the gold across the counter to the shopkeep.
she would have to keep in mind to shop separately from the rest of the group in the future....
After purchasing her gear and placing them in her rucksack, Fiadh crept down the alley (beneath the height of the very obvious windows) to find out what mischief her companions were getting themselves into.
Faenys crept through the storeroom and rummaged through the first box, coming up with a grappling hook, a switch blade and a music box. She pocketed the music box, thinking it would make a good accompaniment to her lute, and moved on.
Stealth: 1
She kept looking through boxes searching for equipment that might help in their quest. She was hoping that, along with the crampons or snowshoes, she might find some rope, maybe a pickaxe, a flint...anything that could help them in their quest.
Search: 17
Salazar, watched faenys curiously. He felt clumsy compared to the nimble elf, she deftly swept through the storeroom barely making a noise, it was impressive to watch. Alas his curiosity dried quickly as she failed to find anything of interest. The stairs likely lead to the proprietors living quarters, picking through dwarven underwear was not his favourite past time but it might yield some valuables, or better; secrets.
Fiadh entered the storeroom behind him with two netted disks stuffed into her rucksack, he assumed these to be the shoes they were supposed to be buying and he dismissed any ideas of further mischief. Best not upset the only established supplier just YET, Dwarves have a habit of holding grudges for a long time.
Instead, Salazar beckoned to Faenys and urged her to abandon the search. "nothing here" he mouthed silently.
Fingering the last few coins in his purse, he wondered how much these strange shoes were going to cost him...
Bröbean followed the others into the store and after watching their antics, he approached the proprietor at the counter.
"We're heading out of town for a short time. We'll take some snow shoes each and anything else you suggest that will keep us out of trouble. The Dwarves Hruna, Korux and Storn are funding our travels, put it all on their account"
Charisma (Deception) - 5
Faenys:
Your search turns up nothing of use or value, it seems the harsh and prolonged winter has depleted their stores down to what remains on the shelves out the front.
Bröbean:
Garn looks like he is about to protest but, after a moment of contemplation, he nods his head slightly. "Then you must be the adventurers they were looking for" he waves for Elza to begin packing the requested supplies "though I didn't realise they were offering to outfit the party. Elza here will gather everything you need and I'll throw in some ice picks too, you never know when they'll come in handy"
The requested supplies are arranged neatly in five small bundles on the counter "I'd say good luck, but I don't think you'll need it, such fine upstanding folk as you are" Garn smiles warmly at Bröbean.
Faenys kicked aside another empty box in frustration.
Through the door to the shop she could hear the grumble of voices as Bröbean bargained successfully with the shop keeper, convincing him to put the gear on the Dwarves tab.
“Crafty!” She thought as she left the storeroom and hurried back around to the front of the store. “That tab is piling up pretty quickly though, what with the gear and the beers. I hope the Dwarves don’t notice til we leave town...”
She’d have to watch that Bröbean...he might even be sneakier than her.
Falling in behind the others with snowshoes and crampons (whatever they are..) in hand Salazar was eager to set off and get on the road. The luxuries of Bryn Shander had already drained his purse and if he was to realise his ambition he would have to earn a little more coin, a gemstone would go some ways towards his goal but dwarven favour would likely go further in this part of the world.
"So which way nah? Do we know where dem dwarves were commin' from? Where's ta nearest iron mine? Howdya reckon we're gonna get dat sled back 'ere?"
Then after a breath, he pointed to an unseen thought above his head; "wassa yeti?"
A small figure heads towards you, as it emerges from the swirling drifts of snow you see that it is a small child, bundled head to toe in thick furs and running towards you at a dead sprint. The Urchin screeches to a halt before you and doubles over trying to catch their breath. After a moment of laboured breathing, they offer you a scrunched-up cloth “Hruna said you forgot to ask for directions”.
Examining the cloth you can see that it is an old dish rag, presumably from the tavern, on it is a hastily drawn map showing Bryn Shander and the relative location of where the dwarves lost the sled.
Fiadh takes the map into her hands and scans it, letting out a large sigh.
“Well this is a sorry excuse for a map...”
she runs her fingers along the markings, “are these roads? Is this supposed to be the forest? I don’t know if we can count on this map... but I’m used to the forest. Stick with me and we shouldnt get lost.”
(As a “natural explorer” Fiadh and her group cannot become lost (except by magical means) when travelling in the forest as this is her favoured terrain)
Faenys followed the elf through the cobbled streets with mounting excitement. The quest was afoot!
The wrought iron gates out of the town swung open and the group filed out.
It was not a forest. It was a barren wasteland of frozen tundra. The wind whipped up the top layer of snow and it spun in flurries around them. The hazy lines of moonlight weakly poked out from behind the clouds. Although weak, the light from the moon was blinding as it glinted off the white of the snow. Faenys wrapped her scarf tightly around her face.
“Well...” she said slowly to Fiadh, “I guess your skills in forest lore and tracking will be stretched.”
She turned to the rest of the group, ”what do you say to just setting out in a straight line that way?”
She pointed towards a low snow covered mountain.