In the city of Neverwinter, a dwarf named Gundren Rockseeker asked you to bring a wagonload of provisions to the rough-and-tumble settlement of Phandalin, a couple of days’ travel southeast of the city. Gundren was clearly excited and more than a little secretive about his reasons for the trip, saying only that he and his brothers had found “something big,” and that he’d pay you ten gold pieces each for escorting his supplies safely to Barthen’s Provisions, a trading post in Phandalin. He then set out ahead of you on horse, along with a warrior escort named Sildar Hallwinter, claiming he needed to arrive early to “take care of business.”
You’ve spent the last few days following the High Road south from Neverwinter, and you’ve just recently veered east along the Triboar Trail. You’ve encountered no trouble so far, but this territory can be dangerous. Bandits and outlaws have been known to lurk along the trail.
[[OOC: Take this time to introduce your character with a tale of how you know the dwarf Gundren Rockseeker. Also, decide what order you are travelling in. Who is driving the cart (no skill check required, but Animal Handling may be required if the horses are spooked). Who is walking ahead of the wagon and who is bringing up the rear?]]
While I absolutely love the forum dice roll mechanic, it is unfortunate that there is the occasional "modified roll" glitch. Due to this, rolls will be made via the DnDBeyond campaign and captured in the campaign game log.
When making skill checks and damage rolls, click the appropriate skill/damage modifier on your character sheet to have it accurately captured by the game log. Ensure that your Send To: in the gamelog is set to Everyone or Dungeon Master. Rolls not captured in the gamelog with skill/damage name will not be used in game.
OOC:
As in the post above, simply use double brackets to help indicate Out of Character comments or questions.
DM PHILOSOPHY:
As the DM, I am here to help tell the heroic and fantastic tales of the characters each of you has created. This is your hero's story! It is my responsibility to ensure that the laws of the game world are consistent for all player and non-player characters throughout the entirety of the campaign. I've never been a fan of the DM vs Player mindset.
I highly encourage roleplay amongst player characters as well as in potential conflict situations. You are more than welcome to attempt parley with an adversary rather than combat. Of course, your mileage may vary dependent upon the adversary.
If you have something you want to attempt that seems absolutely wild and near impossible, I'm not going to stop you. Just know that you will be bound by the laws and restrictions of the game and as such, there could be devastating consequences. . . . .or hilarious results.
Healerman: I am sitting in the middle of the cart wary of everyone around me. I only took this job because Gundren knew my father before he passed. I am taking notes about everyone and everything around me in a small journal. I am wearing a white robe that has gotten a fair bit of mud on it at the bottom over a set of chainmail. My backpack sits beside me with my mace sitting on top of it and within easy reach in case I need it.
Shynt'lyn: When I escaped the under dark, I was in bad shape. The Drow matriarchy had me beat almost to death for my refusal to carry out the slaughter of an innocent family. Gundren was the first being I encountered topside, and he made sure I got to a healer. After that, I did some jobs for him and we became friends. I am out in front of the cart, scouting ahead.
I am clad all in black, including my leather armor and cloak. I also wear very thin piece of cloth over my eyes during the day, as my eyes are not accustomed to the sun.
Rethos: Rethos, a red skinned Tiefling, sits at the reins of the wagon, leading the cart along the trail. He was never one for driving carts, but as the hired guide, he felt this would be the best course of action. dressed in almost a leather trench coat with flowing cloth pants, he doesn't appear to look like your typical sorcerer, but no make no mistake, he very much is one. In a scratchy throat, almost that similar to someone who has been smoking their entire life, he says to those on the cart.
"You know, I never believed Gundren to have... This many friends... But then again, I suppose that man could talk his way into a Dragon's pants."
Having gone a lot of this trip keeping to himself, he decides to break the nice.
"Forgive me, it seems my manners have eluded me up to this point. My name's Rethos. I was hired by Gundren to serve as a guide of sorts."
I am Red Admiral, the half-dragon. I am a ranger, level 1, and I am in front of the cart. I am proficient in animal handling, so I'm good for whenever the horses will get startled.
(I'm also fidgeting with my quarterstaff, twirling it in my right hand, for boredom's sake.) :/
"Whatever do you mean by that?" I said, when Rethos said the other person could 'talk his way into a dragon's pants.' (It didn't make sense to me at all.)
((BTW as for Red Admiral's looks, he is human but with red, fluffy hair; orange, draconic eyes; brown, red, and orange feathered wings; and a brown, leathery tail.))
Rethos: Rethos smirks at the question, quick memories running through his head of some of Gundren's old exploits. For Rethos, it may not be a lot of memories to go through, but there are some there.
"What I mean Sir Red, is that Gundren is a smooth talker. He can convince pretty much anyone of anything, given enough time."
Red Admiral: "Oh, that makes sense. But you don't have to call me Sir, I'm not a military general, I'm named after a butterfly." I shrug when I tell Rethos I'm not a military general. "Oh, and don't forget that I'm nine years old."
Paget: An older rough type of man, weathered by the years, the sun, and the stress of living a life of a human fighter.. There is an underground fight club that Paget met the greedy dwarf. Gundren had put a chunk of gold on his opponent, a large Elf. He lost decisively. This was 10 days ago. The suspicious, seedy little dwarf made an offer to Paget after seeing what the man could do and Paget wasn't in a position to refuse, no matter how much he didn't trust anyone, let alone the Dwarf. He was doing this escort mission for his little sister. No other reason.
Paget is dressed in drab dark colors, worn but thick boots, his hands covered in light fighting wraps, he has on dark cloak and a large necklace around his neck, with a gem on the front.. its not valuable except that its a sentimental gift from his sister, Anafar. He stands about 6'4, his figure is more sinewy than buff, dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, A scar over his lip, a nose that has been pancaked too many times. He brings up the rear, willing to protect the cart and his fellow colleagues with his fists only if he has to.
His nose curls with distaste
"From all I've seen, Gundren is only smooth with opening up his pouch to give his away his gold.. " The human chuckles bitterly. "He has no friends and we aren't friends either.. We have a job to do, right?"
You’ve been on the Triboar Trail for about half a day.
The Drow Shynt'Lyn walks about 10 feet ahead of the two oxen pulling the wagon. His cloth covered eyes scanning the forest on either side of the path as the group continue down the road toward Phandalin. Just behind him the adolescent Red Admiral follows, twirling his quarterstaff from side to side, above his head, behind his back. While the display of skill is impressive, it appears this most unique looking Dragonborn is incredibly bored with escorting the wagon.
Rethos sits with a lackadaisical posture in the driver seat, holding the worn leather reins comfortably in the palms of his red Tiefling hands. The large oxen trudge along the well worn and bumpy road as long as Rethos keeps the reins up, off of their backs.
The wagon jostles and creeks along the path jarring Healerman, who is sitting in the midst of an assortment of mining supplies and food. This includes a dozen sacks of flour, several casks of salted pork, two kegs of strong ale, shovels, picks, and crowbars (about a dozen each), and five lanterns with a small barrel of oil (about fifty flasks in volume). The constant bouncing causes Healerman to make the occasional scratchy stray mark in his journal as he writes.
Behind the wagon and Healerman's occasional curses about finding the bumpiest way along the road walks Paget. The tall sinewy fighter moves with an easy and graceful stride.
As you come around a bend, you spot two dead horses sprawled about fifty feet ahead of you, blocking the path. Each has several black-feathered arrows sticking out of it. The woods press close to the trail here, with a steep embankment and dense thickets on either side.
Rethos: Rethos pulls on the reins to cause the Oxen to stop. Once they do, he stands up in the front and looks over at the dead horses with the arrows. He looks about the area, then back to the horses, trying to get a sense for what could be happening here.
(Trying to determine if a trap or if something is off about the scenario. More insight on the situation) (I will preemptively make an insight roll now, but if you want me to wait for your say so going forward, just let me know please. Insight: 11)
Red Admiral: I go over to Shynt'lyn. "I know enough about orcs to know that they use poison arrows, so let's try not to get shot." I decide to harvest the arrows from the dead horses.
Rethos: Rethos pulls on the reins to cause the Oxen to stop. Once they do, he stands up in the front and looks over at the dead horses with the arrows. He looks about the area, then back to the horses, trying to get a sense for what could be happening here
You stand in the wagon, using your vantage point to discern what may have happened. The equine corpses look like over-sized pin cushions given the number of arrows lodged within them. The saddle bags have been removed and tossed aside. From this distance you can't be certain, but they were most likely looted.
The blood that seeped out from under the slain horses has darkened, indicating they've been here for some time but probably less than a day considering the lack of bloating. This could be due to the multiple perforations preventing any gases from being trapped, but you also find it peculiar there are not scavengers scampering into the wood line or circling in the air.
You hear the young Dragonborn mention something to Shynt'lyn about knowing orcs and Shynt'lyn advising him to not get shot, as Red Admiral dashes off toward the corpses.
Red Admiral: I go over to Shynt'lyn. "I know enough about orcs to know that they use poison arrows, so let's try not to get shot." I decide to harvest the arrows from the dead horses.
All sense of boredom quickly disappears from Red Admiral's demeanor as he races to retrieve some arrows before anyone can object. As soon as he nears one of the felled horses, a furious rustling rises in the trees on either side of the road and the Dragonborn's position. A voice speaking in a series of grunts and gurgles cries out from the thicket.
The entire group is caught by surprise as four figures emerge from the thicket.
Shynt'lyn immediately recognizes the Goblin tongue as it cries out,"Capture the cart. No survivors!"
Two Goblins flank Red Admiral with scimitars raised and two more stand beyond the dead horses, drawing short bows.
[[Everyone will need to roll initiative with disadvantage due to the surprise of the Goblin's stealth [17 (11+6)] vs. passive perceptions. I've included a battle map below to give an idea of positioning. New to the VTT Maps here, so bear with me. I also added borders to each goblin in order to make "targeting" easier to explain in post. @Beginner_Bots, I am fine with preemptive skill rolls when those occasions arise.]]
Paget: The weary Human motions to Shynt'lyn "If the kid wants to put himself in danger, that's fine by me, we aren't babysitters"
Looking around at the surrounding area, Paget slowly approaches, rubbing at the gem around his neck, "We should be ready for anything to come though.."
Edit: Didn't realize the DM was going to post.. I'll roll intiatve on the log and report back
DM:
In the city of Neverwinter, a dwarf named Gundren Rockseeker asked you to bring a wagonload of provisions to the rough-and-tumble settlement of Phandalin, a couple of days’ travel southeast of the city. Gundren was clearly excited and more than a little secretive about his reasons for the trip, saying only that he and his brothers had found “something big,” and that he’d pay you ten gold pieces each for escorting his supplies safely to Barthen’s Provisions, a trading post in Phandalin. He then set out ahead of you on horse, along with a warrior escort named Sildar Hallwinter, claiming he needed to arrive early to “take care of business.”
You’ve spent the last few days following the High Road south from Neverwinter, and you’ve just recently veered east along the Triboar Trail. You’ve encountered no trouble so far, but this territory can be dangerous. Bandits and outlaws have been known to lurk along the trail.
[[OOC: Take this time to introduce your character with a tale of how you know the dwarf Gundren Rockseeker. Also, decide what order you are travelling in. Who is driving the cart (no skill check required, but Animal Handling may be required if the horses are spooked). Who is walking ahead of the wagon and who is bringing up the rear?]]
GAME GUIDELINES
DICE ROLLS
While I absolutely love the forum dice roll mechanic, it is unfortunate that there is the occasional "modified roll" glitch. Due to this, rolls will be made via the DnDBeyond campaign and captured in the campaign game log.
When making skill checks and damage rolls, click the appropriate skill/damage modifier on your character sheet to have it accurately captured by the game log. Ensure that your Send To: in the gamelog is set to Everyone or Dungeon Master. Rolls not captured in the gamelog with skill/damage name will not be used in game.
OOC:
As in the post above, simply use double brackets to help indicate Out of Character comments or questions.
DM PHILOSOPHY:
As the DM, I am here to help tell the heroic and fantastic tales of the characters each of you has created. This is your hero's story! It is my responsibility to ensure that the laws of the game world are consistent for all player and non-player characters throughout the entirety of the campaign. I've never been a fan of the DM vs Player mindset.
I highly encourage roleplay amongst player characters as well as in potential conflict situations. You are more than welcome to attempt parley with an adversary rather than combat. Of course, your mileage may vary dependent upon the adversary.
If you have something you want to attempt that seems absolutely wild and near impossible, I'm not going to stop you. Just know that you will be bound by the laws and restrictions of the game and as such, there could be devastating consequences. . . . .or hilarious results.
Healerman: I am sitting in the middle of the cart wary of everyone around me. I only took this job because Gundren knew my father before he passed. I am taking notes about everyone and everything around me in a small journal. I am wearing a white robe that has gotten a fair bit of mud on it at the bottom over a set of chainmail. My backpack sits beside me with my mace sitting on top of it and within easy reach in case I need it.
Shynt'lyn: When I escaped the under dark, I was in bad shape. The Drow matriarchy had me beat almost to death for my refusal to carry out the slaughter of an innocent family. Gundren was the first being I encountered topside, and he made sure I got to a healer. After that, I did some jobs for him and we became friends. I am out in front of the cart, scouting ahead.
I am clad all in black, including my leather armor and cloak. I also wear very thin piece of cloth over my eyes during the day, as my eyes are not accustomed to the sun.
Rethos: Rethos, a red skinned Tiefling, sits at the reins of the wagon, leading the cart along the trail. He was never one for driving carts, but as the hired guide, he felt this would be the best course of action. dressed in almost a leather trench coat with flowing cloth pants, he doesn't appear to look like your typical sorcerer, but no make no mistake, he very much is one. In a scratchy throat, almost that similar to someone who has been smoking their entire life, he says to those on the cart.
"You know, I never believed Gundren to have... This many friends... But then again, I suppose that man could talk his way into a Dragon's pants."
Having gone a lot of this trip keeping to himself, he decides to break the nice.
"Forgive me, it seems my manners have eluded me up to this point. My name's Rethos. I was hired by Gundren to serve as a guide of sorts."
I don't have a signature.
I am Red Admiral, the half-dragon. I am a ranger, level 1, and I am in front of the cart. I am proficient in animal handling, so I'm good for whenever the horses will get startled.
(I'm also fidgeting with my quarterstaff, twirling it in my right hand, for boredom's sake.) :/
"Whatever do you mean by that?" I said, when Rethos said the other person could 'talk his way into a dragon's pants.' (It didn't make sense to me at all.)
((BTW as for Red Admiral's looks, he is human but with red, fluffy hair; orange, draconic eyes; brown, red, and orange feathered wings; and a brown, leathery tail.))
Rethos: Rethos smirks at the question, quick memories running through his head of some of Gundren's old exploits. For Rethos, it may not be a lot of memories to go through, but there are some there.
"What I mean Sir Red, is that Gundren is a smooth talker. He can convince pretty much anyone of anything, given enough time."
I don't have a signature.
Red Admiral: "Oh, that makes sense. But you don't have to call me Sir, I'm not a military general, I'm named after a butterfly." I shrug when I tell Rethos I'm not a military general. "Oh, and don't forget that I'm nine years old."
Paget: An older rough type of man, weathered by the years, the sun, and the stress of living a life of a human fighter.. There is an underground fight club that Paget met the greedy dwarf. Gundren had put a chunk of gold on his opponent, a large Elf. He lost decisively. This was 10 days ago. The suspicious, seedy little dwarf made an offer to Paget after seeing what the man could do and Paget wasn't in a position to refuse, no matter how much he didn't trust anyone, let alone the Dwarf. He was doing this escort mission for his little sister. No other reason.
Paget is dressed in drab dark colors, worn but thick boots, his hands covered in light fighting wraps, he has on dark cloak and a large necklace around his neck, with a gem on the front.. its not valuable except that its a sentimental gift from his sister, Anafar. He stands about 6'4, his figure is more sinewy than buff, dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, A scar over his lip, a nose that has been pancaked too many times. He brings up the rear, willing to protect the cart and his fellow colleagues with his fists only if he has to.
His nose curls with distaste
"From all I've seen, Gundren is only smooth with opening up his pouch to give his away his gold.. " The human chuckles bitterly. "He has no friends and we aren't friends either.. We have a job to do, right?"
DM:
You’ve been on the Triboar Trail for about half a day.
The Drow Shynt'Lyn walks about 10 feet ahead of the two oxen pulling the wagon. His cloth covered eyes scanning the forest on either side of the path as the group continue down the road toward Phandalin. Just behind him the adolescent Red Admiral follows, twirling his quarterstaff from side to side, above his head, behind his back. While the display of skill is impressive, it appears this most unique looking Dragonborn is incredibly bored with escorting the wagon.
Rethos sits with a lackadaisical posture in the driver seat, holding the worn leather reins comfortably in the palms of his red Tiefling hands. The large oxen trudge along the well worn and bumpy road as long as Rethos keeps the reins up, off of their backs.
The wagon jostles and creeks along the path jarring Healerman, who is sitting in the midst of an assortment of mining supplies and food. This includes a dozen sacks of flour, several casks of salted pork, two kegs of strong ale, shovels, picks, and crowbars (about a dozen each), and five lanterns with a small barrel of oil (about fifty flasks in volume). The constant bouncing causes Healerman to make the occasional scratchy stray mark in his journal as he writes.
Behind the wagon and Healerman's occasional curses about finding the bumpiest way along the road walks Paget. The tall sinewy fighter moves with an easy and graceful stride.
As you come around a bend, you spot two dead horses sprawled about fifty feet ahead of you, blocking the path. Each has several black-feathered arrows sticking out of it. The woods press close to the trail here, with a steep embankment and dense thickets on either side.
Shynt'lyn: I hold up my hand with a closed fist to signal the wagon to stop. Scanning the dense wood, I make my way back to the wagon.
"There are two dead horses in the trail ahead. Both pierced with black fletched arrows. It looks like there are orcs nearby."
I continue to scan the tree line, hands on my weapons.
Rethos: Rethos pulls on the reins to cause the Oxen to stop. Once they do, he stands up in the front and looks over at the dead horses with the arrows. He looks about the area, then back to the horses, trying to get a sense for what could be happening here.
(Trying to determine if a trap or if something is off about the scenario. More insight on the situation) (I will preemptively make an insight roll now, but if you want me to wait for your say so going forward, just let me know please. Insight: 11)
I don't have a signature.
Red Admiral: I go over to Shynt'lyn. "I know enough about orcs to know that they use poison arrows, so let's try not to get shot." I decide to harvest the arrows from the dead horses.
2 poison arrows added to inventory.
Shynt'lyn: "try not to get shot. Why didn't I think of that?"
I see Red approaching the horses.
"That's probably a bad idea. Smells like an ambush to me."
DM:
You stand in the wagon, using your vantage point to discern what may have happened. The equine corpses look like over-sized pin cushions given the number of arrows lodged within them. The saddle bags have been removed and tossed aside. From this distance you can't be certain, but they were most likely looted.
The blood that seeped out from under the slain horses has darkened, indicating they've been here for some time but probably less than a day considering the lack of bloating. This could be due to the multiple perforations preventing any gases from being trapped, but you also find it peculiar there are not scavengers scampering into the wood line or circling in the air.
You hear the young Dragonborn mention something to Shynt'lyn about knowing orcs and Shynt'lyn advising him to not get shot, as Red Admiral dashes off toward the corpses.
All sense of boredom quickly disappears from Red Admiral's demeanor as he races to retrieve some arrows before anyone can object. As soon as he nears one of the felled horses, a furious rustling rises in the trees on either side of the road and the Dragonborn's position. A voice speaking in a series of grunts and gurgles cries out from the thicket.
The entire group is caught by surprise as four figures emerge from the thicket.
Shynt'lyn immediately recognizes the Goblin tongue as it cries out, "Capture the cart. No survivors!"
Two Goblins flank Red Admiral with scimitars raised and two more stand beyond the dead horses, drawing short bows.
Paget: The weary Human motions to Shynt'lyn "If the kid wants to put himself in danger, that's fine by me, we aren't babysitters"
Looking around at the surrounding area, Paget slowly approaches, rubbing at the gem around his neck, "We should be ready for anything to come though.."
Edit: Didn't realize the DM was going to post.. I'll roll intiatve on the log and report back
Shynt'lyn: (initiative with disadvantage is 7. I thought you couldn't be surprised with the alert feat.)
Paget: (figuring out the dice to roll, my disadvantage on the initiative was an 18)
(nevermind, I was reading the old rules. They changed it in the 2024 rules.)