The Phandalin Chronicles

After hearing the interaction between Chill and Rhogar, Chip would stop playing his tune for a moment and turn his head around to look at the back of the bronze dragonborns head. "Hey... What is bothering you cousin?" The brass scaled dragonborn would ask without any hint of aggression. "It seems strange that you are upset about someone wanting to give you a present..." Chip would say before pausing a bit. "Ya know I was talking with Ghorar last night... I was asking about you because I was worried about ya. She told me that you enjoyed living in a small town. Maybe you are homesick?" He would add... "I don't want to tell ya what to do or anything... and I know we are a long way from your home town.. and maybe things are different here than the were there.. but running off without telling anyone where you are going and getting mad at them and not thanking them when they make you something nice.. well... it's kind of rude friend." The brass scaled dragon born would say before looking down.  "If you want to talk about whatever is bothering you... just know that i'll listen." The dragonborn would add before continuing with his song if Rhogar doesn't want to talk.

Instead answering immediately, it looks as if Rhogar turns on Ghorar with a glare. Without a verbal word to her, he turns his attention onto the road on the back of a huff through the nose. "... It was no gift. It was an insult in the form of a denouncement of my ability made manifest. Something you should understand... but given your name and predilections, I SUSPECT you were never taught -- never quite raised to be a dragonborn." He turns just enough to give Chip a cold, sidelong look. "My leaving temporarily was the closest thing I could come to 'kindness' in that moment... least I forget myself, ignore you westerners laws and traditions in a true act of rudeness, and seek retribution for the insult."

He focuses his attention back forward, letting out another huff out of his nose. "Besides, you had Ghorar. So long as our bond remains, she would be able to find me... More importantly, When Master Krom constructed the handaxe, I thanked him then, for it had been a wish... More than that, it felt as if he understood what it meant to offer a weapon... The same cannot be said for the armor... In fairness, you -- including you, 'cousin' -- are all ignorant of the ways of Dragonborn. In fairness, we are new to this world according to Vixix and the records." He sighs and shakes his head. "Too new for our ways to have spread so far west outside the influence of the more common exiles of our home nation... It is... as I am starting to understand, frustrating. Enlightening. But... Frustrating. And why, ultimately, I no longer seek retribution." The bronze gives one last chuckle prior to slipping into silence.

"While I did grow up among humans, I assure you that my parents and siblings are all dragonborn friend. While each of us have our formal dragonborn names.. we have found that people are more accepting if we have names that other races can easily pronounce and are not threatening." Chip would reply, playing his notes much quieter as to not interfere with their conversation. "You know.... you can have a beautiful song that is meant to be played on the horn... and a beautiful song meant to be played on the lute" The brass scaled dragonborn would add. "Chill and Krom making you a beautiful set of armor doesn't mean that they thought your previous set of armor was trash... A wooden shield... no matter how expertly made, beautifully engraved, and well cared for... will not normally protect as well as once made of metal my friend.." He would say locking eyes with Rhogar. "And in this case... the shield made of metal was also beautifully decorated by people that seem to care enough about you that they are willing to spend the coin and time to make it for you." Chip would finish before pausing his playing. "I am the third generation of tune-tail to grown up in waterdeep. While I am familiar with our dragonborn customs... Most other races are not... getting angry and storming off ins't the best way to educate others on our culture and traditions. You should relax friend and not take insult when it is obvious that there was no intent to do so. The brass scaled dragonborn would say in draconic before turning and continuing to play his song. "While we are obviously very different... and our clans separated by an ocean.. just know that as a dragonborn I would be the first one to help you if you ever needed anything." He would say looking away from his fellow dragonborn, out the back of the wagon. 

"Meh." Chill grunts from the other wagon.   "You expressed an interest in getting armor but also expressed a concern that there weren't enough funds to pay for it.   So I arranged for you to get the armor you desired.   If that insults you then forget it.   If your pride says you need to do it yourself then you have the money now.   Pay me the 25 gold back and you can feel the warm fuzzies of paying for it yourself.  I care not which you choose.  You want to be insulted by a gift from a comrade?  I'm insulted you can't accept my gift with graciousness.   I will not bother you again."

Chill settles deeper into his hooded cloak and refuses to speak for the rest of the morning.

Rekuberk simply shakes his head as he listens to the three of them argue over the armor, turning to all of them. "You can respect your culture all you want.  But if it is going to cause trouble for the group then keep it in check. I myself think that it is better to pick and choose what you get from cultures of all types." The half orc says as he crosses his arms.

"The lad is right, we have bigger things to worry then our cultural differences. The fate of Phandalin is on our shoulders." Krom will add this after Rekuberk's remark.

"If you were so familiar, than you would know better than to assume I took OFFENSE over a comparison of armor styles or durability. As well as know that 'beauty' does not excuse insult." He turns just enough again to glare at Chip, visibly aggravated at this point. The fact that Chip switched to draconic only seemed to rile him up more. And yet, to his credit, the Bronze resisted any compulsion to stop Vincent for a full blown argument. 

"But as you say, you and yours grew up largely among humans. Adapted, or as those in the home nation would say, 'sold' off most of what you could that made you dragonborn in order to avoid conflict... as for my storming off, you should know better as well the storm -- or in your case, the fire that burns within you, and how easily it can become dangerously all consuming once stoked to a blaze... I will not harm an ally, if it can be helped. But I will not threaten their lives in the heat of a moment just to educate." He replied in draconic, then switched to common as he turned on Rekuberk and Chill, "Pick and choose? Simply pay back for something I did not specifically request for?... It is not done. And I won't be guilted into an apology for another's disrespectful actions....  But as Master Krom has lend strength to, there are bigger concerns to worry about. So, let's not speak on this again. Just know. Unless requested directly, do not presume to 'gift' me anything." Rhogar then fished out the pouch of coin from the previous division of spoils, and after some thinking on it, left it to Ghorar to give to someone else at some point later.

For having realized the majority no doubt came from the sell of the bell and some other miscellaneous items, it no longer felt right to keep hold of. Perhaps next time he would earn the coin.

"Do not worry the only gift I would consider giving you would be something you would be foolish to ask for." Rekuberk says as he looks away and begins to mess about with his greatsword.

"Well! It is a beautiful morning..." Chip would exclaim as he tries to change the subject after realizing the conversation didnt really go as planned. After taking a deep breath through his nostrils, he would look around to his companions. "Any requests for a song? Otherwise I have been working on a song about out little dragon friend here... I could sing that."

performance 25

(every time I try to do something nice for that damn psudodragon lol!!!)

Under a light rain the party heads out of Phandalin towards the east and the Mountain's Toe gold mine.   The day passes in mostly silence as the party broods over their differences. Again you follow the foothills and in the afternoon you arrive back at the mine.   

Out front you see Raskin and a couple humans and dwarves unloading a couple carts of supplies and carrying crates inside. 

Rekuberk will go to help them since he knows that it will not be to hard for him to do so.

Kazri goes to help as well. "Greetings. I hope everything is well Mr. Raskin. We came here to check up on you and your people before we head to our next mission." She looks around to see if everything seem to be fine. (Perception: 9)

No amount of willpower in existence could keep Rhogar from inevitably chuckling overGhorar squeals of complaint. For while there had been little wrong with the song itself, by some stroke of misfortune, Chip managed to hit every note at just the right pitch to assault the poor psuedodragon's hearing like claws on a chalk board. Even if Chip takes notices and relents, the damage is done. Seeing her tortured look, Rhogar stops chuckling long enough to snap her back into a pocket dimension for the remainder of the trip.

Later on at the mine, Rhogar stays in the driver seat and just observes the workers. 

Chip would have had his eyes closed as he played his song... his body swaying back and forth as he imagined a crowd of people cheering for him and a delighted Ghorar fluttering over head. When the dragonborn opened his eyes, the psudodragon was no where to be seen... With a confused look, Chip would put down his lute and focus on the trip. Once at the mine, Chip would also hop out of the cart and assist with the crates.

(OOC: Did kazri take the boots that Chip offered?) 

(Sorry Wreck. If no one else wants the boot, Kazri will gladly take it. I am sure that will come in handy if she gets to just stand pretty in front of a white dragon. Thanks Chip!!)

Raskin welcomes the help in unloading the remaining crates and bringing them inside.

"I arrived late last night after recruiting some more workers and ordering supplies.  The dwarves have been busy and have the place cleaned up and the dead bodies removed.  We'll be back in action soon enough and my employers will be pleased.  I can't thank you enough for the assistance you gave in clearing the mine."  He says as he fills you in on what has been done in the last couple of days.

"I am glad that you have found some new workers and that the mine will be running again soon. There are still threats in the region, but Moradin's willing, we will take care of them soon enough." says Krom to Raskin. The dwarf will use if necessary his talents (Mending) to repair a few things inside the mines and he will also suggest Raskin to fortify some rooms in preparation of eventual orcs raids. He will then return the party's cart readying himself for the next part of the journey. "We still have a few hours of daylight, let's make camp a few miles North."

"Sounds good to me" Chip would reply to Krom as his eyes make their way to the patch of dirt where Chirrax had been killed. 

“Please, do not mention it Mr. Raskin. We are here to help the community.” After finishing helping the miners. Kazri is ready to depart.

Raskin thanks you for the help in unloading and waves good bye as you set out again.  As the day progresses the weather improves a bit.  A cold wind picks up but the rain comes to a stop.  You find yourselves near the edge of the Neverwinter Wood when you make camp for the night.

 Eventually the cold wind dies off over night and you pass the evening in peace.  The next day you make your way into the woods.

The trees fill your view and hang close overhead.  You find a small path that you are able to move the carts through but the going is a bit slower that you had hoped.  You spend a couple hours working your way north towards where you believe Falcon's Lodge to be.  Eventually you make it to a spot where the forest thins a bit.

About sixty feet ahead of you, a wild boar stands in a small clearing. The boar glares at you suspiciously.