Abishai's Dragons of Icespire Peak

Rasziel,

 Zephyros,

You don't see any other threats nearby as you maintain your focus on the threat ahead of you.

Everyone,

The large while wolf takes a few steps forward, teeth bared in a snarl as it growls. Saliva drips from its mouth, melting the fresh snow beneath. What do you do?

"Be careful, there's more wolves at you flanks. I think we can assume this one is the pack leader. Take it out swiftly and the others might stand down." Rasziel calls down in a cold and calculating tone to his companions, ready to unleash hell.

Meira asks Zephyros, "If we try to avoid a fight in the windmill wouldn't they all just give chase? Rasziel might be right about defeating the leader to deter the others."  She peers about at their surroundings, trying to see these other wolves that Rasziel mentioned. (Perception: 6)

Zephyros nods more to himself than to anyone else as Rasziel confirms his suspicions. He doesn't take his eyes off the large white wolf in front of him to know the truth of the merchant's words. Instead he grits his teeth and plants his feet, stealing his mind for the fight to come.

"I'm sure they will Ms. Meira, but if we can barricade the door, we'll be safe inside." Even as he explains his original thoughts regarding the windmill to the musical rogue, the idea seems far away. The wolf, much closer, 'No... this will end in blood.'

Still ready for the attack, it takes all of Zephyros' patience to wait. Giving his allies an opportunity to avoid this fight the warrior believes inevitable. He remembered the gentle chastisement he'd received for running into battle at every opportunity. The fun poked for getting hurt again. The warrior had vowed to allow opportunity for diplomacy, but this scenario likely wasn't the time to test those options. He would be content to protect his allies without making the first move.

Alisande begins ascending on her broom, the wind whipping the red hair beneath her proud new hat, as she claims to join Rasziel in the air overhead. With one sharp beat of his wings, Ozymandias darts upward, soaring alongside his mistress. 

Mid-flight, she slips her wand from the loop at her hip and begins muttering under her breath. Abruptly from high above, the heavens seem to split with the the roar of an approaching green dragon, vast wings seemingly buffeting the air as it descends.  

"Play along." She calls down to her comrades, widening her eyes at the imaginary horror overhead. "If Tymora smiles upon us, a little misdirection will send these wolves looking for alternative cuisine, lest they find themselves on the menu."

ACTION: Minor Illusion. DC 15 Intelligence (Investigation) check to see through the deception. 

Meira,

You see some shadows shifting in the fading light of dusk around you, but don't see any wolves other than the one in front of the group.

Does anyone do anything to assist Alisande in the deception?

The young dark-haired purple-robed man with the sinister-looking scar, hovering alongside the neverwintan lady, lets out a few coughs and nods, using his infernal magic to strengthen the sounds of the approaching dragon, adding details of his own too.

(Cast Hex on white wolf, disadvantage on wis/insight, then cast minor illusion, Deception/Intimidation if relevant to scare off the wolves: 25)

Alisande and Rasziel,

The large white wolf stops mid step and looks up towards where the noise of a dragon is coming from. It sniffs the air for a moment and seems undisturbed by the sound, until a hex is placed upon the pack leader, and Rasziel adds additional sounds to make the deception more believable. It howls once and bounds off into the darkness to the east.

Rasziel,

 Everyone,

After the close call with the wolf, you continue your journey to Phandalin, arriving about mid-evening. What do you do?

"Well done milady, your idea saved us the trouble of handily defeating a pack of wolves. Let's hope it won't visit upon anyone defenseless shall we?" The young dark-haired man says with a small teasing smile to the neverwintan lady hovering beside him before descending to those still on the ground. "It seems the whole pack decided to run with their literal tails between their legs." He calmly says as he lands, falling into a walk back to Phandalin.

Rasziel would be eager to talk to his contact at the Mining Exchange but he still decides he has earned the night off, suggesting the companions would dine together at the inn, his treat. "And while I would understand if milady would need an early night, the offer of Phandalin's best bottle of wine still stands." He adds to the neverwintan lady, seeming quite pleased with how his business prospects have developed recently.

[[OOC: Everyone increases to level 5! I forgot to mention that in my last post.]]

Meira is relieved as the large white wolf turns away, and apparently any others that might be about. She gives Rasziel a look as he comments about hoping the pack not falling upon some other more defenseless target. It sounded strangely like something Zephyros would have said. She looked over at the older warrior, thinking of their earlier encounter here near Umbrage Hill. She thinks, 'He seems more willing to avoid a fight now. Though I wonder if it's because he thinks that what others wish.'  She shrugs it off, though she didn't disagree with him, well with Rasziel actually, that those wolves may simply pose a threat again down the road. 'Were they more aggressive because they're hungry? Is the presence of the dragons to blame? Or would they have been aggressive anyway?' She ponders these things as they continue on to Phandalin, and thinks that maybe Lyra would have had some insight. She couldn't help but think it would have been nice if she were here to ask. 

Arriving in Phandalin mid-evening, Meira pauses as they get to the Stonehill Inn. 'Now what?' she thinks. She does catch Rasziel's offer to dine together inside, at his treat. "I'll be there. In just a bit." 

Her eyes had caught sight of the little run-down shrine not far away.  She turns from the inn and makes her way over to it, kneeling down next to it. 'Now what?' she thinks once again. This was Lyra's thing. Tymora. Praying at the shrine. She doubted any goddess cared and she had no idea what to even do.  Looking at the stones, her hands start to clear away any weeds, adjusted any stones that might have fallen out of place. Finally, she just starts speaking, her voice barely audible. "Sorry Lyra's not here to do this properly. If you can even hear me, please, please keep Lyra safe Tymora. I know she is good at speaking to you, so whatever she's going to do in Gnomengarde must be the right thing. I just want her to be safe and happy there. And maybe let me make it back to see her sometime not too long from now." She sighs, it wasn't great, but it was all she could think of to say.  For a moment she rests there, just thinking of the hafling, then slowly stands and heads back to the Stonehill Inn. 

Going inside the inn, Meira makes her way up to her room, dropping off most her things. She keeps her light jacket and carries her dulcimer as she comes back down to join the others for a meal. She finds a seat, calling out to Rasziel. "Your generosity includes all our drinks, right? We should celebrate our successful trip I think!" Regardless of the answer, she orders up a large mead for herself. 

Zephyros watches the scene unfold, with the dragon swooping down, the draconic roar eerily familiar and wind buffeting down. The war-calloused veteran shudders. He was so thankful he never had to even see such a monster back in Eskorn. 'What a terrible power.' Ironheart ponders to himself. Glancing back to the wolves, he almost stares at them with disappointment. 'My squad and I would have egged the wolves on.' He quietly considers. 'That way they wouldn't be able to feast on women and children wandering to find a refuge from the evil...' The warrior remains strangely silent during the rest of the journey back to Phandalin.

After having returned to the small town, he hears Raziel's offer and accepts. "Thank you, kind sir. I appreciate it." He then searches for master Toblin. Assuming He finds the innkeeper, he gruffly but politely requests, "Hello Mr. Toblin, might I have a strong drink please? Thanks." The bearded man finds a quiet corner, and mourns his wife and his brothers-in-arms whilst stroking his brown beard.

In between large sips from alcohol, he puffs on his well-used pipe.

"Of course, tonight is on me Ms. Meira. I see it more like an investment of sorts than actual generosity." He explains the the stylish bard and the others with a small smile, only half-joking it seems, then turning to the innkeeper for a table and all the food and drink his companions would ask for this night. His main concern now was to keep the team of brave and competent adventurers on the task. He couldn't do this himself and the cheerful halfling staying in Gnomengarde was bad enough. He sincerely hoped the stylish bard wouldn't follow suit, the ranger return to his wife and home, and the veteran let his grief bring him too low to march on. He doubted he was the one to inspire them all but perhaps the neverwintan lady could serve as the inspiration they needed to press on.

"I suspect my ruse would have failed without the finishing touches you bestowed upon the portrait. It appears we are, in combination, a formidable team." Alisande says with a glimmer of amusement in her grey eyes. As Rasziel invites her to partake of a bottle of wine with him, she inclines her head. "After so consummate a success, to decline such courtesy would be unspeakable. It would be my great pleasure."

Meira heads off to the Shrine of Luck for a bit as the others head for the promise of rest and relaxation. Shortly after, she rejoins the rest of the group at the Inn.

A cold wind follows the party into the Stonehill Inn, the kind that clings to cloaks and armor long after the door shuts behind them. Inside the inn the air is thick with warmth, firelight, and the low murmur of late‑evening patrons. Toblen Stonehill looks up from polishing a mug, relief softening his features.

“Back from the wilds, are you? You look half-frozen. Sit, sit—food’s still hot, and the fire’s yours.”

The inn smells of roasted meat, fresh bread, and mulled cider. A few locals glance up, offering respectful nods; word of the party’s deeds has spread, and even the most skeptical farmers now look at your group with something like hope. Toblen takes your food and drink orders and brings the finest bottle of wine for the group to share, and brings a delicious blueberry honey mead to Meira. 

"Of course." He says to Zephyros' drink order. Grabbing a bottle from a shelf behind the counter, Toblen pours a golden liquid into a glass he sets down in front of the warrior. "The strongest dwarven spirits I have. They call it Thunderbelly Stout. Enjoy. Let me know if I can get ya anything else." He frowns a bit as he watches Zephyros sit apart from the others.

As plates arrive—thick stew, warm bread, and mugs of ale—the tension slowly unwinds from your bodies. The fire crackles. Snow taps softly against the windows. The inn’s lanterns cast a golden glow that makes the world outside feel distant and harmless. The group begins to feel at ease. It's not victory they feel, not yet. But it's safety, warmth. A moment of peace carved out of a dangerous world.

[[OOC: I will say the entire night's food and drinks tab will cost 2 gp. Anyone who has more than a couple adult beverages, please give me a constitution saving throw. Let me know if there is anything else you would like to do before resting for the night.]]

Meira:

The trip to the shrine left Meira feeling better. Her thoughts were still rather sad, but it was tinged with a bit more hope. Originally, she had sat down at the table with most of the others. Quickly she enjoyed her blueberry mead that had been brought. But soon her attention is turned to Zephyros, sitting by himself. Emptying her mug, she leaves it on the table as she stands.

She wanders over to the table in the corner and swiftly takes a seat across from the old man. "So, what are we drinking over here? I could probably use something strong myself."  She gives him a feeble smile. "Though I fully realize my sorrows are nothing compared to yours, I'm sure. Doesn't make me feel any better though."  She leans back, waiting for his reaction, but not pressing him any more than she already has. 

"I hope indeed you will find it a great pleasure milady, I will certainly endeavour for this." Rasziel answers with a small enigmatic smile and a properly polite bow to someone of her station. He would give both Meira and the Ironheart a brief concerned glance but decides to let them share company for now, hoping the two could somewhat comfort each other.

After eating and drinking and doing his best to be a good company and a pleasant conversationalist, Rasziel would step over to the bar counter and explain to Toblen that he needed to impress the neverwintan lady, being ready to pay for the finest wine his establishment could offer this night. Returning with whatever wine the innkeeper could procure for him and two glasses, the young dark-haired man again takes his seat at the table. "I believe I also owe you some answers milady, please ask away and I will hopefully be able to sate your curiosity as well as building some further trust between us." He says, pouring the neverintan lady a glass.

Gareth was sad to see Lyra go. Her decision to stay at Gnomengarde was an unusual one, especially after everything they had been through together, but he respected her choice. He saw how hard her departure was on Meira though, and although he was no bard or wordsmith, he offered what little comfort he could as they left the gnomes behind in search of Phandalin once more. "She'll be safe here," he says quietly. "And she seems happy."

The encounter with the wolf had been an unsettling one. Aside from peppering it with arrows, the ranger felt he was of little use in the situation, but he admired the creativity of the solution in driving the creature away. "I'm sorry. I usually hunt beasts more than I speak with them," he offers by way of explanation. He just hoped they wouldn't come to regret sparing the wolf in the future.

At the inn, the ranger accepts Rasziel's offer with a nod and word of thanks. Gareth briefly chats with Toblen, gathering the latest news from Phandalin, before returning to the party with a mug of ale. He notices Zephyros sitting a bit apart from the group and wonders what that is about, but Meira soon walks over to join him so at least he isn't alone with his thoughts. Sometimes being alone with your thoughts was the worst thing you could do. Gareth is about to sit down next to Rasziel but he notices the man has just come from the bar with what looks like two full glasses of wine, and the ranger has to stifle a smile. He sits down next to Meira instead.

"Looks like you needed a moment alone," Gareth says to Zephyros. "I can sip my ale quietly over here, but if you're feeling up to it, you know you can tell us anything."

As Zephyros sits and sips on his spirits, Meira joins him. He motions to Toblen to bring the bottle of dwarven spirits over. "A glass for my comrade here, if you please. You can leave the bottle." He finishes the rest of his glass and pours one for Meira before refilling his own. "Aye, it's called Thunderbelly Stout." As the rogue trivializes her own sorrow a frown creases his brow. He slams another glass full of the liquid before pouring another. (Constitution save: 22)

Seemingly unaffected by the strong drink, he says, "You're worried you won't see Lyra again." He forms it as more of a statement than a question, pausing before adding, "Something tells me you will." The stout warrior takes another drink from his glass as Gareth walks over. "Please sit, join us."

As Gareth affirms the warrior share his story, he does so. "My wife was a beautiful Sea Elf who died saving my life." He shares this simply to help them understand, not to emphasize his own pain. "Sometimes I rest easy after a really hard day, but more often than not, I close my eyes and am plagued with nightmares. I dream of sea creatures attacking us. Of my ship wrecked near a lighthouse. Of an unnatural storm swirling over the lighthouse. The worst part..." He pauses to finish his drink and pour himself another. "...my beautiful wife is banshee in the nightmares." (Constitution save: 18)

"This is why I mentioned previously wanting to go to the lighthouse we learned about from that old sailor the last time we were here. Maybe I can find..." His words trail off as he realizes he has no idea what he'll find at the lighthouse. "I know getting sidetracked while we have more important tasks to consider isn't ideal, but..." He trails off again without finishing his sentence.

Meira watches as Zephyros pours a glass of the Thunderbelly Stout for her. She takes the glass and quickly downs it, pushing the glass out to have it refilled again. (CON Save: 2) Inwardly, her chest tightens a bit as he correctly hits on her fear of not seeing Lyra again. She plays it off with a smile and a chuckle. "Well, that is certainly one worry! Although at least she's somewhere safe."  Seeing her again was just a part of what weighed on her mind, not that she would say anything. It was hard to shake the feeling that maybe the halfling just wasn't as interested in staying with her, even though she knew it was more of her fear of the dangers they had seen.  And her quick decision to stay with the gnomes rather than go back to Neverwinter puzzled her too. But she was only starting to get the slightest idea of how her whole relationship with Tymora worked. 

She's lost in all these thoughts when she realizes Zephyros was speaking of his wife!  He never did that!  She and Lyra had heard him crying out during what must have been his nightmares. Though it was always Lyra that had the right words to gently speak to the man. The thought of the halfling made her miss her all the more. And she felt the sadness of his loss.  And the horrible thought that his wife lingered as some sort of angry spirit. She reaches for her glass, not quite sure if it had been filled again or not, and tries to drink it.  Setting the glass down sharply, she says, "We have to go to the lighthouse!"  She didn't mean for it to be loud; she was just firm in her conviction that they go. And was she crying? She's also a little surprised to see Gareth beside her. 'When did he come join them?'