Driven from lands farther north by more powerful dragons, a white dragon named Cryovain has descended upon the Sword Mountains, claiming the snow-capped range as its domain. Typical of its kind, Cryovain is dim-witted and cruel. The dragon patrols the skies around Icespire Peak, surveying its territory while hunting for food and easy treasure. With each passing day, the dragon's domain grows as it ranges farther across the land, preying on anything it can catch with its claws or freeze to death with its icy breath. Sightings of the dragon are becoming more common, as are its attacks.
The frontier town of Phandalin is built on the ruins of a much older settlement. Hundreds of years ago, the old Phandalin was a thriving human town whose people were firmly allied with neighboring dwarves and gnomes. Then an orc horde swept through the area and laid waste to the settlement, and Phandalin was abandoned for centuries.
In the last three or four years, settlers from the cities of Neverwinter and Waterdeep have begun the hard work of reclaiming the ruins of Phandalin. The new settlement is home now to farmers, woodcutters, fur traders, and prospectors drawn by stories of gold and platinum in the foothills of the Sword Mountains. The arrival of a white dragon threatens to destroy all that they've worked to rebuild.
This walled compound served as a hostelry on the High Road between Waterdeep and Neverwinter in the days when trade between the two cities flourished. It fell into disuse when that trade stopped after the eruption of Mount Hotenow. Now that Neverwinter has recovered and commerce has resumed, the road has been rebuilt and the roadhouse repaired and put to use as a supply depot and wagon park. It stands on the west side of the road, a stone’s throw from the edge of the Mere of Dead Men. Fog drifting off the mere engulfs the roadhouse at night and lingers well into the following afternoon. The sounds of the marsh, from croaking frogs to buzzing insects, are only somewhat dampened by the roadhouse’s walls and doors.
The superintendent of the Carnath Roadhouse is a brusque but well-educated half-orc named Bog Luck.
Bog overlooks the crowd that has gathered this night. That dragonborn (Chip) plays a pan flute, and not to well either. But it's been while since any bard has passed this way so he couldn't be picky. For the price of meals and a bed the bard suffices.
A caravan coming north from Waterdeep arrived early in the day. In the late afternoon another coming south from Leilon and Neverwinter arrived. As usual a mix of races have come together.
Neverwinter. This city was badly damaged when Mount Hotenow erupted some years ago. Now, the City of Skilled Hands works to rebuild under the watchful eye of its Lord Protector, Dagult Neverember, who rules in the absence of an heir to Neverwinter’s crown. Neverwinter was a city full of opportunities. As word spread that Neverwinter was being restored, merchants from both the North and the southern lands became interested in trading with the city once again. Likewise, Lord Neverember began to work to forge a trading alliance with the restored Gauntlgrym, in the hopes of increasing the prosperity of both cities, while ensuring his advantage over the nobles and merchants from Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate.
Without guilds to restrict trade or construction, those who wanted to start a business in Neverwinter could simply do so, and those traders who dealt with basic products, such as foodstuff, became wealthy just by selling their goods in the city. Likewise, there was demand for many jobs, and those who wanted to offer their services either as workers or as apprentices had plenty of options despite the high competition.
Trade once again flourishes up and down the High Road. And with trade comes caravans. Some stop here at the Carnath Roadhouse while others carry through. Oftentimes guards change caravans if they seek to go no further north or south per their personal goals and interests. Trade happens around the roadhouse as well and a small town has almost been built to meet the needs of these caravans. Most basic supplies can be found here.
The High Road hugs the coast, connecting Neverwinter to the coastal cities of Luskan to the north and Waterdeep to the south. For years, the stretch of road south of Neverwinter fell into disuse because of frequent monster attacks. Of late, efforts have been made to keep the road safe, with light patrols of guards on horseback moving between Neverwinter and Leilon. But those patrols don't reach this far south. Travelers on the High Road, which skirts the mere to the east, must resist being lured into this cold and desolate swamp by bobbing will-o’-wisps. Countless adventurers have perished in the mere, drawn by tales of ruined castles half-sunk in the mire.
To the south of the roadhouse lies the southern reaches of the Sword Mountains. These steep, craggy, snow-capped mountains are home to scattered tribes of orcs as well as other monsters. A portion of lower hills lay nearest to Carnath Roadhouse. Further north the mountains rise again and run east. Icespire Peak is the tallest among them. Their foothills are strewn with the ruins of bygone kingdoms, and more than a few half-forgotten dungeons and tombs.
A tabaxi (Chill) sits in the corner of the roadhouse with some guards that came in on the caravan from Waterdeep. A human woman (Kazri) sits with him, armored and with a warhammer. They mix with guards from the other caravans. Nearby a half-orc (Rek) who had met up with some people now sits alone. Another dragonborn (Rhegor) enters the roadhouse seeking a seat, as does a dwarf (Krom). They find empty seats with Rek.
Most of the talk in the roadhouse is about the dragon that has moved into the area of Icespire Peak and near Phandalin. It hasn't attacked caravans on the High Road but it may just be a matter of time. Merchants seek guards and other discussions are about which caravans are headed north or south and the hiring of guards for those caravans.
Chill sits at his table, a few others sitting with him. The ride north from Waterdeep had been quiet with only one set of bandits who quickly fled into the woods when he and the other guards sent some arrows and bolts their way.
He wears dark clothing, a gray hood has strange designs that look like mazes on it. His fur is jet black and he has yellow eyes.
His caravan had left a few days ago. For whatever reason he chose not to go. They headed back south to Waterdeep after delivering several barrels of ale and other supplies to the roadhouse. But Chill didn't want to go back there. Chill wasn't sure where he wanted to go. Bog said more caravans would be along and sure enough two more arrived today. He had spent the last couple days just listening to the bard, Chip he thinks his name was.
But this evening he heard something that finally peaked his interest.
A dragon, they say, settled into the Sword Mountains near a village called Phandalin.
A couple of the men and women at his table had come on a caravan from the north. Others, like the well armored woman who sat with him came on a caravan from Waterdeep earlier that day.
Turning his attention to the woman. "You look like you be interested in fighting a dragon rather than riding guard duty on merchant wagons. What do you know of dragons? My name is Chill by the way."
The half orc that has been sitting at the table by himself before others had come to join him seems to be deep in his own thoughts. He stands above average height even if he was more quarter orc due to his orcish heritage coming from his half orc mother. He has a well toned body and is rippling with muscle that comes from years of training despite his young age. Strangely through he is well dressed in the clothes of the upper class, most of the outfit black except for a shirt that is tucked into a pair of breeches a noble would wear into a duel.
While his outfit speaks of class, his weapons on the other hand speak of something else entirely. Each looks like a mixture of human and orcish design with the greatsword standing out the most. It has a well made pommel and handle while the blade is jagged and made to tear through flesh like butter.
Soon he seems to stop thinking and instead reached for his drink, downing the bit that was left in his tankard before he seemed to finally notice other people. He nods to them before he motions at any worker that may be near by to bring him another drink.
The groaning of wood accompanies every shift from Rhogar in his seat. And he had done a LOT of shifting in his seat, seeming enamored at just about everything in sight. Any who saw him enter would have seen a particular great interest in the dragonborn bard en-route to said seat, resulting in some rudeness in not even asking to join.
For all of his child-like enthusiasm, the bronze scaled dragonborn was no hatchling. Even seated it was clear he stood a head and shoulders above most in the room save any goliaths or the fellow dragonborn in the room. The more decrotive than protective chain shirt fit snuggly across a wide frame and healthy gut. Odder than the fisherman trousers and bare feet (not that most dragonborn had a choice otherwise), is that any inspection of him reveals little trace of the grime of having traveled long on the road. The most catching however beyond even all that, is the solid sea-green eyes that if lingered upon conveyed a sense of peace.
Setting aside this, an ivory-toned staff was held in a death grip at side. Or so it had until a slip of attention led to a scrambling to catch, and eventually clutch it tightly to his chest. Slowly but surely, the frill running along the back of his head and neck lowers again. "Hah! Now THAT was close one, my friends! Wait... Ahhhh! How rude of me to not have noticed you two out of everything around!"He lets out a raucous chuckle, caring not in the moment who else might be disturbed. "Allow me to introduce myself. The name is Rhogar of the Nimbatuul Clan, and it is a PLEASURE to meet you both! Really! I do not think I have ever seen a human so green, or one so short and stocky! Oh will the wonders ever cease to amaze!" He said cheerily offering both hands for a shake. Realizing one was occupied after a second or two, he chuckles more lightly as Ivory staff is adjusted for an uncomfortable but workable dual handed offering of the handshakes.
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"Ice! Ice! Dragon!" Chip would sing as his head bobs back and forth between notes on his pan flute. "All right stop! Collaborate and listen! We got a dragon problem and it is our mission!" He would continue as four spheres of multi-colored light spin around him in various patterns and designs. "To put an end to its destruction.. and.. ummm... something that rhymes with destruction!" The Brass scaled dragonborn would say as he waves his free hand in the air. As the lights passed behind his head, the large chip missing from his left horn would stand out as his head is silhouetted in the light. Chip is wearing some fairly plain leather armor with a dagger on his belt. Occasionally while playing he will sneak a peak towards a the side of the stage where a couple additional interments and a bag of equipment and a longsword are resting in a pile.
Rekuberk crosses his arms as the dragonborn calls him a green human, shaking his head as he wonders if the dragonkin is somehow addled of mind. From there he turns his attention to the other dragonbord who seems to be a bard and winces a little at the strange song he sings. Then again he could not judge as all he had to go off of were orcish war chants his mother had taught him during training to focus. As the bard taks about dragons he does his best to multitask and shake hands with Rhogar. "Rekuberk Onc son of the famous heros, Talion Onc and Belistra of Clan Wolfmaw."
He makes sure to speak in a clear and direct manner, showing the intelligence behind the savage look in his eye.
Across from the Tabaxi sits a fairly tall woman wearing elaborate armor. A heavy warhammer hung at her belt. She has weathered but fair skin, and long dark brown hair flows behind her armor. Her grave expression says this is not her first caravan. She nods to Chill to go to the table where the Half-Orc and the two Dragonborns sit. She was lost in her thoughts, so she missed a great performance from the Dragonborn Bard.
The woman goes to the table and clears her throat. “Greetings soldiers...” She stops herself short and utters an inaudible curse. “I mean...”She regains her composure. “Greetings fellow companions. Name’s Kazri, and I believe that we are all heading to a town called Phanduhlin? At any rate, it is my job to make sure that everyone in this group gets to our destination safely in this journey.” She then picks a seat slightly away from the group and sits down. Her demeanor show she is all about business. She turns to Chill. "And yes, you are correct Mr. Chill. I am more interested about the Dragon, but the caravan is my priority now."
One can tell that Kazri’s armor is of good quality and it was tailor made for her, after all, there aren’t many six plus feet tall female knights out there. While the armor seems to have been in service for many years, one can tell that, although fairly faded, there are signs that she used to be a high ranking officer of the Waterdeep’s City Guard in her previous life. It also seems that the armor has recently received a slight tint of green shade to the chains, making it almost gleam in an emerald hue. Her large heavy kite shield has the All Seeing Eye upon a right hand gauntlet engraved in the middle of it. She also wears around her neck a golden medallion with an insignia of a triangle pointing upwards with a line, as wide as the base, cross horizontally the top third of the triangle. The medallion clearly mismatches her military outfit, one could swear it almost looks celestial in nature.
Kazri - Level 10 Human Paladin (Oath of the Ancients) - The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks Droknin Palemane - Level 4 Leonin Barbarian (Path of the Beast) - Where the Cold Winds Blow... A Lost Mines of Phandelver Story Faelan (Cottontail) Whisperwind - Level 3 Ranger (Fey Wanderer) - Zorg's Lost Souls II
"Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life."
As Chip finishes his performance, he will pump his fist and quickly move to the edge of the stage to collect his other instruments and equipment. Once he had gathered up his belongings, he would move out into the crowded room. "Pretty good performance if I say so myself!" Chip would say as he pulls up a seat and plops down hard next to dragonborn and half orc. Looking around the pretty packed table, he would give a quick wave to the dwarf, tabaxi and woman as well. "Did you all like the song? I thought it wen't pretty well! No one threw anything at me and apart from forgetting a few lines and having to improvise on the fly a bit... I think it is looking to be a pretty nice night!" The large muscular dragonborn would quickly hold his hand to his mouth. "Whoops, sorry if I was interrupting!" Then looking to Kazri he would give her a large toothy smile. "I thought I heard you all talking about the dragon! boy.. all of you look like you probably have some good stories to tell... but uh.. .Sorry, allow me to introduce myself. The name is Chip.. Chip Tune-Tail" The dragonborn would say extending his hand out to anyone that would take it while pointing to the large missing chunk of his left horn. "Get it... Chip.. cause I am missing a big chip out of my horn.. Anyway... You guys doing anything exciting or dangerous.. or heroic?... Tonight is my last night performing here and I kind of need a new job.. one that I hope provides some good source material for a song or two!" he would exclaim while giving the dwarf and dragonborn hard slaps on the back as he places his arms on their shoulders while sitting between them.
"Well met Mr. Tune-Tail..."Kazri pauses and wonders why does the Dragonborn's jest regarding his own name escapes her. "As a matter of fact, there has been sighting of a dragon by Icepspire Peak. Phandalin..., I believe..., is the closest town and they are afraid that the dragon may have its sight on it, eventually. There is a caravan heading that way and it needs an escort. You are welcome to join if you wish. As I stated to Mr. Chill, once we arrive at our destination, I will be looking into this Dragon business. You are all welcome to do as you please."
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Kazri - Level 10 Human Paladin (Oath of the Ancients) - The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks Droknin Palemane - Level 4 Leonin Barbarian (Path of the Beast) - Where the Cold Winds Blow... A Lost Mines of Phandelver Story Faelan (Cottontail) Whisperwind - Level 3 Ranger (Fey Wanderer) - Zorg's Lost Souls II
"Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life."
"I want to slay the dragon and claim the treasure that it has taken over what is more then likely centuries of life. Just imagine how famous that can make a person." Rekuberk says as he finishes his second mug of ale, setting it to the side as he slowly realizes that his table is now packed with several people. Not wanting then to think he was greedy or just seeking fame despite that being partly true he clears his throat.
"Well that and I would like to stop it from causing more harm. After all it is the job of my family to protect the innocent and put those who commit such crimes as this dragon to justice."
Sitting between the Half-Orc and the Bronze-scaled Dragonborn, a broad shouldered dwarf finishes his ale says ". What a fine company do we have here. I'm Krom Firebeard, smith of Moradin at your service." The dwarf is wearing a fine chain mail, a round shaped shield is set on his back and on his right hip hangs a huge warhammer. The etchings on the warhammer are emitting an embered light. "You have a nice sword lad and you to lass have a fine armor indeed, tailored-made too", says Krom to Rekuberk and Kazri. "Are you all going to Phandalin I suppose. I'm setting up a forge there, but this Dragon is bad for business. I don't have personally saw it yet, but I can assure you that its presence it's not just a rumor. The Dragon is real and it's causing too many troubles. It's my intention to do something about that." after saying that Krom orders more ale.
"Sign me up! I'll help fight a dragon!" The brass scaled Chip would shout as the half-orc mentions becoming famous. "I'll join your caravan! i can fight almost as good as I play.. so take that for what it is worth I suppose" He would say with a grin looking to Kazri. "I sure hope the dragon is real... I mean... It is a terrible thing... but think of the epic tale we can tell once we have defeated it!" Chip would say looking up towards the sky as he converges the four dancing lights into a rough dragon figure fluttering around the table.
"From the damages that I have witnessed I can assure you that the Dragon is real. Hopefully we will get the chance to fight it and if the Gods are with us you will able to tell a great story after we defeated it." says Krom
Kazri finds solace that her new found companions are eager to take on a dragon (imaginary or not) head on. She looks at Krom. "I believe the caravan departs tomorrow. We look forward to have you, Mr. Firebeard, in our company, if you wish."Then she looks at the Bard. "You too, you are welcome to join. I am sure the company could use some entertainment on the way. It will take several days to reach our destination."
Kazri sighs slightly. "It seems that I will have to keep an extra eye on the Entertainer. I just hope that he is as good on the field as he is on the stage."
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Kazri - Level 10 Human Paladin (Oath of the Ancients) - The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks Droknin Palemane - Level 4 Leonin Barbarian (Path of the Beast) - Where the Cold Winds Blow... A Lost Mines of Phandelver Story Faelan (Cottontail) Whisperwind - Level 3 Ranger (Fey Wanderer) - Zorg's Lost Souls II
"Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life."
Ever since Rekuberk introduced himself Rhogar has been staring off into space, trying and presumably failing to remember something, and yet remaining determined to keep trying all the same. So much so, in fact, that most of what happened after as a result goes right over his head. Finally after what seemed a small eternity's passing, he comes out of the stupor, scratching at his chin and saying, "I have no idea who either of those two are." Then his eyes finally registers the new arrivals and he nearly falls back out of his seat in surprise.
"Whoa! Hey! Whoa! Hi? Huh.... I must've been out of it more than I thought -- The name is Rhogar of Clan Nimbatuul, and it is a PLEASURE to meet you all. Not gonna lie -- not that I can tell those -- but I zoned out there for a while. But, did I hear something about a dragon and traveling to Phantasy land?"He asks, quirking a brow ridge while looking at all gathered about the table. "Hey, uh, I do NOT know what you are, but you're with the pretty tall one here, ya?" He gestures to Khazri. "Why don't you pull your seat over and join us too! There's talk of riding a dragon to Phantasy land apparently."
(@All: Sticking with dark blue after remember he's a sea guy.)
A couple of the guards that were sitting at the table with Chill and Kazri get up to leave.
"If there's a dragon to the north I'd rather head back south to Waterdeep. Bandits are one thing, even orcs and goblins, but dragons are a whole new level I'd like to steer clear of. See Dale in the morning. He's the caravan master. If word gets about of a dragon,and it sounds like it is, he'll be looking to hire on extra guards. He'll be running the only wagons going north so he shouldn't be hard to find."
The guards leave the roadhouse.
It's beginning to get late and the crowd is beginning to thin.
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Driven from lands farther north by more powerful dragons, a white dragon named Cryovain has descended upon the Sword Mountains, claiming the snow-capped range as its domain. Typical of its kind, Cryovain is dim-witted and cruel. The dragon patrols the skies around Icespire Peak, surveying its territory while hunting for food and easy treasure. With each passing day, the dragon's domain grows as it ranges farther across the land, preying on anything it can catch with its claws or freeze to death with its icy breath. Sightings of the dragon are becoming more common, as are its attacks.
The frontier town of Phandalin is built on the ruins of a much older settlement. Hundreds of years ago, the old Phandalin was a thriving human town whose people were firmly allied with neighboring dwarves and gnomes. Then an orc horde swept through the area and laid waste to the settlement, and Phandalin was abandoned for centuries.
In the last three or four years, settlers from the cities of Neverwinter and Waterdeep have begun the hard work of reclaiming the ruins of Phandalin. The new settlement is home now to farmers, woodcutters, fur traders, and prospectors drawn by stories of gold and platinum in the foothills of the Sword Mountains. The arrival of a white dragon threatens to destroy all that they've worked to rebuild.
Map Legend
Map of area
Carnath Roadhouse
This walled compound served as a hostelry on the High Road between Waterdeep and Neverwinter in the days when trade between the two cities flourished. It fell into disuse when that trade stopped after the eruption of Mount Hotenow. Now that Neverwinter has recovered and commerce has resumed, the road has been rebuilt and the roadhouse repaired and put to use as a supply depot and wagon park. It stands on the west side of the road, a stone’s throw from the edge of the Mere of Dead Men. Fog drifting off the mere engulfs the roadhouse at night and lingers well into the following afternoon. The sounds of the marsh, from croaking frogs to buzzing insects, are only somewhat dampened by the roadhouse’s walls and doors.
The superintendent of the Carnath Roadhouse is a brusque but well-educated half-orc named Bog Luck.
Bog overlooks the crowd that has gathered this night. That dragonborn (Chip) plays a pan flute, and not to well either. But it's been while since any bard has passed this way so he couldn't be picky. For the price of meals and a bed the bard suffices.
A caravan coming north from Waterdeep arrived early in the day. In the late afternoon another coming south from Leilon and Neverwinter arrived. As usual a mix of races have come together.
Neverwinter. This city was badly damaged when Mount Hotenow erupted some years ago. Now, the City of Skilled Hands works to rebuild under the watchful eye of its Lord Protector, Dagult Neverember, who rules in the absence of an heir to Neverwinter’s crown. Neverwinter was a city full of opportunities. As word spread that Neverwinter was being restored, merchants from both the North and the southern lands became interested in trading with the city once again. Likewise, Lord Neverember began to work to forge a trading alliance with the restored Gauntlgrym, in the hopes of increasing the prosperity of both cities, while ensuring his advantage over the nobles and merchants from Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate.
Without guilds to restrict trade or construction, those who wanted to start a business in Neverwinter could simply do so, and those traders who dealt with basic products, such as foodstuff, became wealthy just by selling their goods in the city. Likewise, there was demand for many jobs, and those who wanted to offer their services either as workers or as apprentices had plenty of options despite the high competition.
Trade once again flourishes up and down the High Road. And with trade comes caravans. Some stop here at the Carnath Roadhouse while others carry through. Oftentimes guards change caravans if they seek to go no further north or south per their personal goals and interests. Trade happens around the roadhouse as well and a small town has almost been built to meet the needs of these caravans. Most basic supplies can be found here.
The High Road hugs the coast, connecting Neverwinter to the coastal cities of Luskan to the north and Waterdeep to the south. For years, the stretch of road south of Neverwinter fell into disuse because of frequent monster attacks. Of late, efforts have been made to keep the road safe, with light patrols of guards on horseback moving between Neverwinter and Leilon. But those patrols don't reach this far south. Travelers on the High Road, which skirts the mere to the east, must resist being lured into this cold and desolate swamp by bobbing will-o’-wisps. Countless adventurers have perished in the mere, drawn by tales of ruined castles half-sunk in the mire.
To the south of the roadhouse lies the southern reaches of the Sword Mountains. These steep, craggy, snow-capped mountains are home to scattered tribes of orcs as well as other monsters. A portion of lower hills lay nearest to Carnath Roadhouse. Further north the mountains rise again and run east. Icespire Peak is the tallest among them. Their foothills are strewn with the ruins of bygone kingdoms, and more than a few half-forgotten dungeons and tombs.
A tabaxi (Chill) sits in the corner of the roadhouse with some guards that came in on the caravan from Waterdeep. A human woman (Kazri) sits with him, armored and with a warhammer. They mix with guards from the other caravans. Nearby a half-orc (Rek) who had met up with some people now sits alone. Another dragonborn (Rhegor) enters the roadhouse seeking a seat, as does a dwarf (Krom). They find empty seats with Rek.
Most of the talk in the roadhouse is about the dragon that has moved into the area of Icespire Peak and near Phandalin. It hasn't attacked caravans on the High Road but it may just be a matter of time. Merchants seek guards and other discussions are about which caravans are headed north or south and the hiring of guards for those caravans.
Chill sits at his table, a few others sitting with him. The ride north from Waterdeep had been quiet with only one set of bandits who quickly fled into the woods when he and the other guards sent some arrows and bolts their way.
He wears dark clothing, a gray hood has strange designs that look like mazes on it. His fur is jet black and he has yellow eyes.
His caravan had left a few days ago. For whatever reason he chose not to go. They headed back south to Waterdeep after delivering several barrels of ale and other supplies to the roadhouse. But Chill didn't want to go back there. Chill wasn't sure where he wanted to go. Bog said more caravans would be along and sure enough two more arrived today. He had spent the last couple days just listening to the bard, Chip he thinks his name was.
But this evening he heard something that finally peaked his interest.
A dragon, they say, settled into the Sword Mountains near a village called Phandalin.
A couple of the men and women at his table had come on a caravan from the north. Others, like the well armored woman who sat with him came on a caravan from Waterdeep earlier that day.
Turning his attention to the woman. "You look like you be interested in fighting a dragon rather than riding guard duty on merchant wagons. What do you know of dragons? My name is Chill by the way."
The half orc that has been sitting at the table by himself before others had come to join him seems to be deep in his own thoughts. He stands above average height even if he was more quarter orc due to his orcish heritage coming from his half orc mother. He has a well toned body and is rippling with muscle that comes from years of training despite his young age. Strangely through he is well dressed in the clothes of the upper class, most of the outfit black except for a shirt that is tucked into a pair of breeches a noble would wear into a duel.
While his outfit speaks of class, his weapons on the other hand speak of something else entirely. Each looks like a mixture of human and orcish design with the greatsword standing out the most. It has a well made pommel and handle while the blade is jagged and made to tear through flesh like butter.
Soon he seems to stop thinking and instead reached for his drink, downing the bit that was left in his tankard before he seemed to finally notice other people. He nods to them before he motions at any worker that may be near by to bring him another drink.
The groaning of wood accompanies every shift from Rhogar in his seat. And he had done a LOT of shifting in his seat, seeming enamored at just about everything in sight. Any who saw him enter would have seen a particular great interest in the dragonborn bard en-route to said seat, resulting in some rudeness in not even asking to join.
For all of his child-like enthusiasm, the bronze scaled dragonborn was no hatchling. Even seated it was clear he stood a head and shoulders above most in the room save any goliaths or the fellow dragonborn in the room. The more decrotive than protective chain shirt fit snuggly across a wide frame and healthy gut. Odder than the fisherman trousers and bare feet (not that most dragonborn had a choice otherwise), is that any inspection of him reveals little trace of the grime of having traveled long on the road. The most catching however beyond even all that, is the solid sea-green eyes that if lingered upon conveyed a sense of peace.
Setting aside this, an ivory-toned staff was held in a death grip at side. Or so it had until a slip of attention led to a scrambling to catch, and eventually clutch it tightly to his chest. Slowly but surely, the frill running along the back of his head and neck lowers again. "Hah! Now THAT was close one, my friends! Wait... Ahhhh! How rude of me to not have noticed you two out of everything around!" He lets out a raucous chuckle, caring not in the moment who else might be disturbed. "Allow me to introduce myself. The name is Rhogar of the Nimbatuul Clan, and it is a PLEASURE to meet you both! Really! I do not think I have ever seen a human so green, or one so short and stocky! Oh will the wonders ever cease to amaze!" He said cheerily offering both hands for a shake. Realizing one was occupied after a second or two, he chuckles more lightly as Ivory staff is adjusted for an uncomfortable but workable dual handed offering of the handshakes.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
"Ice! Ice! Dragon!" Chip would sing as his head bobs back and forth between notes on his pan flute. "All right stop! Collaborate and listen! We got a dragon problem and it is our mission!" He would continue as four spheres of multi-colored light spin around him in various patterns and designs. "To put an end to its destruction.. and.. ummm... something that rhymes with destruction!" The Brass scaled dragonborn would say as he waves his free hand in the air. As the lights passed behind his head, the large chip missing from his left horn would stand out as his head is silhouetted in the light. Chip is wearing some fairly plain leather armor with a dagger on his belt. Occasionally while playing he will sneak a peak towards a the side of the stage where a couple additional interments and a bag of equipment and a longsword are resting in a pile.
Performance! 7
Rekuberk crosses his arms as the dragonborn calls him a green human, shaking his head as he wonders if the dragonkin is somehow addled of mind. From there he turns his attention to the other dragonbord who seems to be a bard and winces a little at the strange song he sings. Then again he could not judge as all he had to go off of were orcish war chants his mother had taught him during training to focus. As the bard taks about dragons he does his best to multitask and shake hands with Rhogar. "Rekuberk Onc son of the famous heros, Talion Onc and Belistra of Clan Wolfmaw."
He makes sure to speak in a clear and direct manner, showing the intelligence behind the savage look in his eye.
(OOC: In case it wasn't clear... because Chip is a bad bard... he was singing to the tune of Ice Ice baby... total classic)
Across from the Tabaxi sits a fairly tall woman wearing elaborate armor. A heavy warhammer hung at her belt. She has weathered but fair skin, and long dark brown hair flows behind her armor. Her grave expression says this is not her first caravan. She nods to Chill to go to the table where the Half-Orc and the two Dragonborns sit. She was lost in her thoughts, so she missed a great performance from the Dragonborn Bard.
The woman goes to the table and clears her throat. “Greetings soldiers...” She stops herself short and utters an inaudible curse. “I mean...” She regains her composure. “Greetings fellow companions. Name’s Kazri, and I believe that we are all heading to a town called Phanduhlin? At any rate, it is my job to make sure that everyone in this group gets to our destination safely in this journey.” She then picks a seat slightly away from the group and sits down. Her demeanor show she is all about business. She turns to Chill. "And yes, you are correct Mr. Chill. I am more interested about the Dragon, but the caravan is my priority now."
One can tell that Kazri’s armor is of good quality and it was tailor made for her, after all, there aren’t many six plus feet tall female knights out there. While the armor seems to have been in service for many years, one can tell that, although fairly faded, there are signs that she used to be a high ranking officer of the Waterdeep’s City Guard in her previous life. It also seems that the armor has recently received a slight tint of green shade to the chains, making it almost gleam in an emerald hue. Her large heavy kite shield has the All Seeing Eye upon a right hand gauntlet engraved in the middle of it. She also wears around her neck a golden medallion with an insignia of a triangle pointing upwards with a line, as wide as the base, cross horizontally the top third of the triangle. The medallion clearly mismatches her military outfit, one could swear it almost looks celestial in nature.
Kazri - Level 10 Human Paladin (Oath of the Ancients) - The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks
Droknin Palemane - Level 4 Leonin Barbarian (Path of the Beast) - Where the Cold Winds Blow... A Lost Mines of Phandelver Story
Faelan (Cottontail) Whisperwind - Level 3 Ranger (Fey Wanderer) - Zorg's Lost Souls II
"Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life."
As Chip finishes his performance, he will pump his fist and quickly move to the edge of the stage to collect his other instruments and equipment. Once he had gathered up his belongings, he would move out into the crowded room. "Pretty good performance if I say so myself!" Chip would say as he pulls up a seat and plops down hard next to dragonborn and half orc. Looking around the pretty packed table, he would give a quick wave to the dwarf, tabaxi and woman as well. "Did you all like the song? I thought it wen't pretty well! No one threw anything at me and apart from forgetting a few lines and having to improvise on the fly a bit... I think it is looking to be a pretty nice night!" The large muscular dragonborn would quickly hold his hand to his mouth. "Whoops, sorry if I was interrupting!" Then looking to Kazri he would give her a large toothy smile. "I thought I heard you all talking about the dragon! boy.. all of you look like you probably have some good stories to tell... but uh.. .Sorry, allow me to introduce myself. The name is Chip.. Chip Tune-Tail" The dragonborn would say extending his hand out to anyone that would take it while pointing to the large missing chunk of his left horn. "Get it... Chip.. cause I am missing a big chip out of my horn.. Anyway... You guys doing anything exciting or dangerous.. or heroic?... Tonight is my last night performing here and I kind of need a new job.. one that I hope provides some good source material for a song or two!" he would exclaim while giving the dwarf and dragonborn hard slaps on the back as he places his arms on their shoulders while sitting between them.
"Well met Mr. Tune-Tail..." Kazri pauses and wonders why does the Dragonborn's jest regarding his own name escapes her. "As a matter of fact, there has been sighting of a dragon by Icepspire Peak. Phandalin..., I believe..., is the closest town and they are afraid that the dragon may have its sight on it, eventually. There is a caravan heading that way and it needs an escort. You are welcome to join if you wish. As I stated to Mr. Chill, once we arrive at our destination, I will be looking into this Dragon business. You are all welcome to do as you please."
Kazri - Level 10 Human Paladin (Oath of the Ancients) - The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks
Droknin Palemane - Level 4 Leonin Barbarian (Path of the Beast) - Where the Cold Winds Blow... A Lost Mines of Phandelver Story
Faelan (Cottontail) Whisperwind - Level 3 Ranger (Fey Wanderer) - Zorg's Lost Souls II
"Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life."
"I want to slay the dragon and claim the treasure that it has taken over what is more then likely centuries of life. Just imagine how famous that can make a person." Rekuberk says as he finishes his second mug of ale, setting it to the side as he slowly realizes that his table is now packed with several people. Not wanting then to think he was greedy or just seeking fame despite that being partly true he clears his throat.
"Well that and I would like to stop it from causing more harm. After all it is the job of my family to protect the innocent and put those who commit such crimes as this dragon to justice."
Sitting between the Half-Orc and the Bronze-scaled Dragonborn, a broad shouldered dwarf finishes his ale says ". What a fine company do we have here. I'm Krom Firebeard, smith of Moradin at your service." The dwarf is wearing a fine chain mail, a round shaped shield is set on his back and on his right hip hangs a huge warhammer. The etchings on the warhammer are emitting an embered light. "You have a nice sword lad and you to lass have a fine armor indeed, tailored-made too", says Krom to Rekuberk and Kazri. "Are you all going to Phandalin I suppose. I'm setting up a forge there, but this Dragon is bad for business. I don't have personally saw it yet, but I can assure you that its presence it's not just a rumor. The Dragon is real and it's causing too many troubles. It's my intention to do something about that." after saying that Krom orders more ale.
"Sign me up! I'll help fight a dragon!" The brass scaled Chip would shout as the half-orc mentions becoming famous. "I'll join your caravan! i can fight almost as good as I play.. so take that for what it is worth I suppose" He would say with a grin looking to Kazri. "I sure hope the dragon is real... I mean... It is a terrible thing... but think of the epic tale we can tell once we have defeated it!" Chip would say looking up towards the sky as he converges the four dancing lights into a rough dragon figure fluttering around the table.
"From the damages that I have witnessed I can assure you that the Dragon is real. Hopefully we will get the chance to fight it and if the Gods are with us you will able to tell a great story after we defeated it." says Krom
"It's my intention to hit the road tomorrow morning and head back to Phandalin, you are all more then welcome to join me of course." says Krom.
Kazri - Level 10 Human Paladin (Oath of the Ancients) - The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks
Droknin Palemane - Level 4 Leonin Barbarian (Path of the Beast) - Where the Cold Winds Blow... A Lost Mines of Phandelver Story
Faelan (Cottontail) Whisperwind - Level 3 Ranger (Fey Wanderer) - Zorg's Lost Souls II
"Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life."
Ever since Rekuberk introduced himself Rhogar has been staring off into space, trying and presumably failing to remember something, and yet remaining determined to keep trying all the same. So much so, in fact, that most of what happened after as a result goes right over his head. Finally after what seemed a small eternity's passing, he comes out of the stupor, scratching at his chin and saying, "I have no idea who either of those two are." Then his eyes finally registers the new arrivals and he nearly falls back out of his seat in surprise.
"Whoa! Hey! Whoa! Hi? Huh.... I must've been out of it more than I thought -- The name is Rhogar of Clan Nimbatuul, and it is a PLEASURE to meet you all. Not gonna lie -- not that I can tell those -- but I zoned out there for a while. But, did I hear something about a dragon and traveling to Phantasy land?" He asks, quirking a brow ridge while looking at all gathered about the table. "Hey, uh, I do NOT know what you are, but you're with the pretty tall one here, ya?" He gestures to Khazri. "Why don't you pull your seat over and join us too! There's talk of riding a dragon to Phantasy land apparently."
(@All: Sticking with dark blue after remember he's a sea guy.)
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
"I will gladly join your caravan." replies Krom "I will be able to defend it too if necessary."
"Since we are going to travel several days together, just call me Krom." says Krom to the group.
A couple of the guards that were sitting at the table with Chill and Kazri get up to leave.
"If there's a dragon to the north I'd rather head back south to Waterdeep. Bandits are one thing, even orcs and goblins, but dragons are a whole new level I'd like to steer clear of. See Dale in the morning. He's the caravan master. If word gets about of a dragon,and it sounds like it is, he'll be looking to hire on extra guards. He'll be running the only wagons going north so he shouldn't be hard to find."
The guards leave the roadhouse.
It's beginning to get late and the crowd is beginning to thin.