"So, my little friend, are you ready to come with us and try and thwart this giant menace, you could be one the most famous flying cat ever?". Andor shares out the scrolls with Carrow and readies himself to leave.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Carrow looks around the chamber for a seat, taking the weight off he eyes the room watching the animals pad around, waiting for a chance to talk to the Harper's out of ear shot of the others.
"Five horses and tack at 81 gold each for 405 gold in total," I say to confirm the deal. We shake on it and I take the bag of 40 platinum and 5 gold pieces. I pet Viola once more as I leave, wishing her good luck with her next owner. Then I wend my way back to Moongleam Tower, knocking to be let in.
Upstairs, I divvy out 8 platinum pieces and 1 gold piece to each of my companions, then gather up my gear and prepare to teleport to Mirabar.
Rixton, after taking care of selling the horses and tack, rushes back to Moongleam Tower and joins the rest of the group. Flewen, the aforementioned sleeping mage, explains that the teleportation circle in Mirabar is inscribed in a stable house loft. "Most likely, Mage Bronzefire will be on duty when you arrive there."
After verifying that everyone's ready for travel, Flewen utters the necessary words and a shimmering portal opens over the sigils in the floor. The five adventurers walk through the magical opening and are immediately met by the smell of hay and a blast of frigid air. As promised, they stand in the upper floor of a stable, and nearby sits a male dwarf who appears to be nothing more than a stablehand, complete with leather overalls and straw in his beard. He perks up immediately. "Ah, some new travelers in the inner circles, I see. Hope you were aimin' for Mirabar, for that's where you've landed. Welcome. I'm Zazspar Bronzefire." He rubs his hands together vigorously, trying to generate a bit of warmth. "It's a cold one tonight. A night for a fire and strong drink."
"Cold indeed, that strong drink you mentioned, do you happen to have any to hand, or can you point us in the right direction?" Then looking at Rixton he stops "Actually my friend here is correct, do you have an idea of where we can spend the night?" Used to living outside quite often in recent years the cold doesn't seem to bother Andor that much but he does pull his cloak tighter about himself.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Zazspar suggests an inn--simply called Nohl's Place--that stands three blocks west of the stables. The snow that had fallen on the adventurers during their final day of travel to Everlund seems insignificant when compared to the snowfall in Mirabar. Several inches of the stuff covers the ground, and many buildings have large drifts of snow leaning against them. There's little doubt that winter has come to this part of the North.
Despite the rather late hour--approximately four hours after sunset--Nohl's Place has a fair number of patrons wiling away the evening. Two large fireplaces on opposite sides of the room are doing an excellent job of chasing away the chill, and a large dog lazily roams around the room looking for food scraps that might fall to the floor. A considerable number of dwarves can be seen gathered around some of the tables, which doesn't come as a surprise to anyone; for it is common knowledge that the dwarven Mines of Mirabar extend deep and wide below this city.
The service is a bit slow, but eventually the five adventurers are able to procure lodging for the night (one piece of gold) and a meal (five pieces of silver).
In the morning I awaken refreshed, for once. A night in a bed and a morning without a hangover does one wonders. "Good morning," I say to the innkeeper, presumably Nohl, although I didn't catch their name the evening before. "Could you direct me to the Winterfell Distillery? I am also interested in possibly purchasing some horses, if you know of any stables that are presently selling any."
Judging by his perpetual smile and tendency to nod his head repeatedly, Nohl seems like a nice enough fellow. His communication skills leave a bit to be desired, however. "Whisky..." he grins and nods a few times as he points northward "...whisky house." He nods a few more times, slowly. "Winter whisky house north."
In response to Rixton's query about purchasing horses, Nohl says, "South on Long Road." He nods vigorously. "South a few miles. Stable, horses, donkeys."
I give a wan smile and thank Nohl for the directions. "I'm going to go check on the distillery. No need to buy horses if the Merkenshard brothers are in town. Anyone else want to come along?"
I bundle up as best I can, even putting on my leather armor and donning my scabbard as well and head out with whomever comes along. In the cold morning, heading vaguely north, we seek out the Winterfell Distillery, stopping for directions as necessary.
After questioning a few passers-by, the location of the distillery becomes a bit clearer, and within a half hour everyone is standing before a very small building made of brick and wood that is wedged between an empty warehouse on one side and a wainwright on the other. A finely-carved sign hangs over the door, which has been painted dark green and is currently locked. A knock at the door eventually prompts a female forest gnome on the inside of the building to open a small viewing window in the door. "Rather early for deliveries, isn't it?" she asks curtly. "And furthermore, you're at the wrong door, deliveries are..." she trails off after she's taken the time to realize her mistake--a mistake that seems to make her even less friendly. "Bah! What do you want?!"
The goliath watches Andor and Rixton donning every conceivable item of warm clothing, and lets out a short laugh . "Ha! If we have cause to head up into the Spine of the World, then you'll see a proper winter! This is a warm summer's day in comparison."
Vigan walks with the others, describing at length the harsh environment he grew up in, and tricks to staying alive in such conditions. He does his best to impart the wisdom of his ancestors, such as the best locations to lay traps in a winter forest, how to stay warm without a tent and fire, and most important of all, to avoid eating yellow snow when thirsty.
Talk of his homeland puts him in a good mood, which is quickly soured by the cantankerous gnome at the door to the Winterfell Distillery. Looming above the gnome as she chastises them all, the smile leaves his face and his eyes narrow.
"Ah, well then. It seems you've come to the correct door after all. Come in."
Considerably less hostile, she introduces herself as Renna. The distillery is remarkably small and cozy. The limited space is filled with two large pot stills, bags of grain, large wooden buckets, and, of course, barrels of whisky aging in racks along three of the four walls.
"Tell me your name, tall one. And, if possible, how you knew to come here for Mithro and Benrik. I have the unfortunate task of watching over those two misfits."
Stooping to enter the distillery, the goliath's eyes take a second to adjust to the contrast between the white of the snow outside and the relative darkness of the distillery.
"I am Vigan, also known as 'Ironfist' by my tribe, the Kalukakanu. Circumstance has led us to cross paths with giants and their allies on several occasions, and friends in Everlund directed us here." On the word "friends", Vigan casts a glance at Carrow, as if to give him the option of revealing more information.
"We have been informed of frost giants mixing with goblins and hobgoblins. Unless you or the Merkenshards have any better ideas, we intended to establish our own 'diplomatic relations' with these groups. We defended Triboar from fire giants allied with orcs and magmin, and seek to strike early before the same can happen in this area."
Renna listens intently to all that Vigan has to say. "Frost giants are out and about, there's no mistake about that," she comments. "And the news of the attack on Triboar reached us a few days ago. So you're the ones, eh? That must have been something."
She pauses for a moment to give herself time to hop onto an empty barrel, which she then uses as a makeshift chair. "Sometimes the twins decide its best to divide and conquer; so, currently, Benrik is on his way to Luskan. Mithro and some scouts set out for the Crags a few days ago."
Here's a bit of general information about Luskan (west of Mirabar) and the Crags (south of Mirabar). We can assume this would be common knowledge to anyone who has familiarity with the North:
The City of Sails (Luskan) often conjures romantic images of a magnificent port metropolis, majestic merchant galleons with bright sails, and dashing swashbucklers who greet their enemies with a playful wink and a tip of the hat. In reality, Luskan is anything but that. It’s a dirty dive with filthy streets, squat buildings, ramshackle docks, creaky old longships, and crass pirates thinly disguised as sea traders. Luskan is the home of a league of greedy, power-hungry wizards called the Arcane Brotherhood.
Five High Captains rule the city. Each one is a glorified pirate lord who controls a fleet of longships. The five fleets serve many purposes: they defend Luskan against seafaring barbarians and other enemies, they conduct legitimate sea trade up and down the Sword Coast, and they raid and plunder the island kingdoms to the west.
The hills south of Mirabar (the Crags) are strewn with abandoned mines that have become infested with goblins, hobgoblins, and bugbears. Uthgardt barbarians are known to prowl the Crags, hunting wild game and occasionally preying on caravans that travel the Long Road.
Andor
"So, my little friend, are you ready to come with us and try and thwart this giant menace, you could be one the most famous flying cat ever?". Andor shares out the scrolls with Carrow and readies himself to leave.
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
For selling the horses, I'll utilize the same method we used in Waterdeep when the group wanted to sell the gemstones. (d12 roll): 2
A regular horse is listed at 75 gold pieces in the PHB; so 90% of that = 67 gold pieces.
At the stables, Marlee is willing to offer 67 pieces of gold for each horse.
Carrow
Carrow looks around the chamber for a seat, taking the weight off he eyes the room watching the animals pad around, waiting for a chance to talk to the Harper's out of ear shot of the others.
Rixton:
"Five horses and tack at 81 gold each for 405 gold in total," I say to confirm the deal. We shake on it and I take the bag of 40 platinum and 5 gold pieces. I pet Viola once more as I leave, wishing her good luck with her next owner. Then I wend my way back to Moongleam Tower, knocking to be let in.
Upstairs, I divvy out 8 platinum pieces and 1 gold piece to each of my companions, then gather up my gear and prepare to teleport to Mirabar.
Rixton, after taking care of selling the horses and tack, rushes back to Moongleam Tower and joins the rest of the group. Flewen, the aforementioned sleeping mage, explains that the teleportation circle in Mirabar is inscribed in a stable house loft. "Most likely, Mage Bronzefire will be on duty when you arrive there."
After verifying that everyone's ready for travel, Flewen utters the necessary words and a shimmering portal opens over the sigils in the floor. The five adventurers walk through the magical opening and are immediately met by the smell of hay and a blast of frigid air. As promised, they stand in the upper floor of a stable, and nearby sits a male dwarf who appears to be nothing more than a stablehand, complete with leather overalls and straw in his beard. He perks up immediately. "Ah, some new travelers in the inner circles, I see. Hope you were aimin' for Mirabar, for that's where you've landed. Welcome. I'm Zazspar Bronzefire." He rubs his hands together vigorously, trying to generate a bit of warmth. "It's a cold one tonight. A night for a fire and strong drink."
Rixton:
I shiver a bit at the sudden drop in temperature. "Well met, Mage Bronzefire. We will need accommodations to start with. What do you recommend?"
Andor
"Cold indeed, that strong drink you mentioned, do you happen to have any to hand, or can you point us in the right direction?" Then looking at Rixton he stops "Actually my friend here is correct, do you have an idea of where we can spend the night?" Used to living outside quite often in recent years the cold doesn't seem to bother Andor that much but he does pull his cloak tighter about himself.
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
Zazspar suggests an inn--simply called Nohl's Place--that stands three blocks west of the stables. The snow that had fallen on the adventurers during their final day of travel to Everlund seems insignificant when compared to the snowfall in Mirabar. Several inches of the stuff covers the ground, and many buildings have large drifts of snow leaning against them. There's little doubt that winter has come to this part of the North.
Despite the rather late hour--approximately four hours after sunset--Nohl's Place has a fair number of patrons wiling away the evening. Two large fireplaces on opposite sides of the room are doing an excellent job of chasing away the chill, and a large dog lazily roams around the room looking for food scraps that might fall to the floor. A considerable number of dwarves can be seen gathered around some of the tables, which doesn't come as a surprise to anyone; for it is common knowledge that the dwarven Mines of Mirabar extend deep and wide below this city.
The service is a bit slow, but eventually the five adventurers are able to procure lodging for the night (one piece of gold) and a meal (five pieces of silver).
Rixton:
In the morning I awaken refreshed, for once. A night in a bed and a morning without a hangover does one wonders. "Good morning," I say to the innkeeper, presumably Nohl, although I didn't catch their name the evening before. "Could you direct me to the Winterfell Distillery? I am also interested in possibly purchasing some horses, if you know of any stables that are presently selling any."
Judging by his perpetual smile and tendency to nod his head repeatedly, Nohl seems like a nice enough fellow. His communication skills leave a bit to be desired, however. "Whisky..." he grins and nods a few times as he points northward "...whisky house." He nods a few more times, slowly. "Winter whisky house north."
In response to Rixton's query about purchasing horses, Nohl says, "South on Long Road." He nods vigorously. "South a few miles. Stable, horses, donkeys."
Rixton:
I give a wan smile and thank Nohl for the directions. "I'm going to go check on the distillery. No need to buy horses if the Merkenshard brothers are in town. Anyone else want to come along?"
I bundle up as best I can, even putting on my leather armor and donning my scabbard as well and head out with whomever comes along. In the cold morning, heading vaguely north, we seek out the Winterfell Distillery, stopping for directions as necessary.
Andor
"A walk sounds good." Moving off after Rixton Andor wraps up warm against the cold but remians cheery in spite of the bad weather.
Vhon - Level 2 Warlock - What shall become of the Drunken Sailor?
Lyreis - Level 6 Elf Fighter - Eberron: Omega
DM - Dzenda: The Cracks - DM - Dzenda: Whispered Tales
After questioning a few passers-by, the location of the distillery becomes a bit clearer, and within a half hour everyone is standing before a very small building made of brick and wood that is wedged between an empty warehouse on one side and a wainwright on the other. A finely-carved sign hangs over the door, which has been painted dark green and is currently locked. A knock at the door eventually prompts a female forest gnome on the inside of the building to open a small viewing window in the door. "Rather early for deliveries, isn't it?" she asks curtly. "And furthermore, you're at the wrong door, deliveries are..." she trails off after she's taken the time to realize her mistake--a mistake that seems to make her even less friendly. "Bah! What do you want?!"
Vigan
The goliath watches Andor and Rixton donning every conceivable item of warm clothing, and lets out a short laugh . "Ha! If we have cause to head up into the Spine of the World, then you'll see a proper winter! This is a warm summer's day in comparison."
Vigan walks with the others, describing at length the harsh environment he grew up in, and tricks to staying alive in such conditions. He does his best to impart the wisdom of his ancestors, such as the best locations to lay traps in a winter forest, how to stay warm without a tent and fire, and most important of all, to avoid eating yellow snow when thirsty.
Talk of his homeland puts him in a good mood, which is quickly soured by the cantankerous gnome at the door to the Winterfell Distillery. Looming above the gnome as she chastises them all, the smile leaves his face and his eyes narrow.
"The Merkenshard brothers", Vigan replies curtly.
She narrows her gaze at Vigan, and then quickly scans the faces of the goliath's four companions. "Humph. Regarding?"
Vigan
"Lord's Alliance business", Vigan replies, extending his hand to show the gnome his signet ring displaying the symbol of the Alliance.
"Ah, well then. It seems you've come to the correct door after all. Come in."
Considerably less hostile, she introduces herself as Renna. The distillery is remarkably small and cozy. The limited space is filled with two large pot stills, bags of grain, large wooden buckets, and, of course, barrels of whisky aging in racks along three of the four walls.
"Tell me your name, tall one. And, if possible, how you knew to come here for Mithro and Benrik. I have the unfortunate task of watching over those two misfits."
Vigan
Stooping to enter the distillery, the goliath's eyes take a second to adjust to the contrast between the white of the snow outside and the relative darkness of the distillery.
"I am Vigan, also known as 'Ironfist' by my tribe, the Kalukakanu. Circumstance has led us to cross paths with giants and their allies on several occasions, and friends in Everlund directed us here." On the word "friends", Vigan casts a glance at Carrow, as if to give him the option of revealing more information.
"We have been informed of frost giants mixing with goblins and hobgoblins. Unless you or the Merkenshards have any better ideas, we intended to establish our own 'diplomatic relations' with these groups. We defended Triboar from fire giants allied with orcs and magmin, and seek to strike early before the same can happen in this area."
Renna listens intently to all that Vigan has to say. "Frost giants are out and about, there's no mistake about that," she comments. "And the news of the attack on Triboar reached us a few days ago. So you're the ones, eh? That must have been something."
She pauses for a moment to give herself time to hop onto an empty barrel, which she then uses as a makeshift chair. "Sometimes the twins decide its best to divide and conquer; so, currently, Benrik is on his way to Luskan. Mithro and some scouts set out for the Crags a few days ago."
Here's a bit of general information about Luskan (west of Mirabar) and the Crags (south of Mirabar). We can assume this would be common knowledge to anyone who has familiarity with the North:
Rixton:
I let out a soft whistle. "So we ride or we try to figure things out ourselves here. What do you think, gentlemen?"