The Phandalin Chronicles

Overhearing Princess Akra saying that she had roughed it on a ship of the  southern part of The Sword Coast, Thalas booms "e hine {which translates as Little Lady - after all everybody is little as far as he is concerned} its like a millpond down there. Now if you want rough I'll take you on the northern Trackless Sea West of the Moonshaes. It's the ***** Queen herself's waters out there! And rough don't go halfway to describing the seas and winds out there. Makes you feel alive it does!" He then pauses and then asks "so e hine Rocky here works for you cos you look after him and his family, what happens if he doesn't like the work you're offering? Can he do something else or work for somebody else?"  

When the wagon reaches the ambush site - after all what else could it be - Thalas looks over at Ungrim saying "righto Kaimanahu {a colloquial term which translates person in charge} you're the boss! How do you want to play this?" 

Ungrim, keeping his eyes on the road, listens to Princess Akra's endless comments about everything she finds amusing or worthy of notice. He remains silent for most of the journey, as the dragonborn seems to speak enough for two or three people at the same time, only adding at one point, after Thalas's comment about the Moonshae's treacherous waters:
"Rough, you say, Princess? I am afraid that here on the Savage Coast, you will soon find out that the meaning of that word is not quite what you think it is. Be prepared to be surprised."
The dwarf adds with a toothy grin.

Later on, as the wagon slows and reaches the scattered supplies and torn packs, Ungrim frowns at the scene.
"Ambush, or I am no dwarf", he mutters, gripping the haft of his greataxe. "Thalas, let's get closer and give them a proper welcome, shall we?"
The dwarf grins as he hops down and heads toward the scene, scanning the area. Without turning his head, Ungrim addresses the others on the cart.
"Keep your eyes open and try to cover us while protecting our cart."

OOC: [skill]Perception[skill] 11

Bozzlewick made a noise somewhere between a grunt of agreement and a snort of amusement over the notion of 'clarity', before tottering off to presumably go back to stretching his legs out. Unfortunately, the brief interaction with Nyxaris seemed also be the limit of his social battery for that day, as zero effort afterwards had been put towards properly mingling with anyone else. In fact, he appeared especially apt to avoid Akra, her retinue, and Thalas wherever possible that first day, but never to the point of coming off unfriendly. Just rather quick to find convenient excuses to avoid any involved interactions.

However, things gradually changed over the course of the next five days, as none passed without at least one member of the entourage become something of a focus for the gnome. Though he remained more inclined to listen and observe than initiate conversation, any natural opportunity to piggyback off of another's opening rarely went unexploited by the gnome, and always came in the form of innocuous question or two for the focus of the day. Things like 'Where you from? What's your favorite food? Who are your parents? Have you ever seen a snake man before? And while he'd answer in kind if questioned in turn, his social battery seemed to dry up soon after, leading to the gnome usually falling back on needing to focus on tool maintenance or other busy work.

Then there came the sixth day's surprise...

"Orrrr, just the sight of one that couldn't have happened no more than a few hours is my bet. Or a day at best." Bozzlewick quietly chimed in an offering of his own insights. However, such confidence did not preclude him from readying his crossbow; a fine piece of weaponry that up to now he'd kept close at hand, and with only bit of work saw the limbs unfold from its side using an adjustable cocking stirrup and some internal mechanism as a lever. "That said, suppose it doesn't hurt to just ask the horses." Before anyone can object, the gnome knelt down to try and use the sides of the wagon as cover, cleared his throat, and then stage whispered something in a tongue that sounded like a chaotic mess of squirrel noises, reptilian hisses, horse huffs, and bird chirps.

For the horses:

-Casting (1st level)Speak with Animals using Forest Gnome Freebie.

-Persuasion: 5. (if needed. If animal handling, take off a point.)

As Ungrim and Thalas prepare to move forward, Ungrim suddenly raises a hand, stopping the group before they draw too close.  He recognizes the horses as belonging to Gundren and Sildar.

The horses wander nervously along the trail amid scattered gear and signs of violence.

Keeping his distance, Bozzlewick murmurs an incantation and casts a spell to speak with animals. The horses respond with anxious neighs and frightened whinnies, stamping and tossing their heads toward a narrow break in the trees.

Though panicked and difficult to understand, one thing becomes clear:

Bozzlewick:

Nyxaris had remained seated at the back of the wagon for most of the morning, silent as snowfall, watching the forest pass by in muted shades of green and gray. But when Ungrim’s voice sharpened — “Keep your eyes open.” — something in the tiefling’s posture shifted. Nyxaris understood the shape of the scene before them. The scattered gear. The blood. The horses trembling with memory. The forest pressing close like a held breath.

Slowly, he rose. He stepped down from the wagon with slow, deliberate grace, boots touching the earth without a sound. His cloak drifted behind him like a shadow reluctant to let go. “Ungrim.” he murmured, inclining his head with quiet respect. “If this is a trap… then perhaps we should spring it on our terms.” There was no bravado in his tone. No excitement. Just calm, dreamlike certainty.

Nyxaris turned then, walking to the back of the wagon. His cloak drifted behind him like a sliver of night. He lifted one hand — a small, deliberate gesture — and the air around him shimmered. A second Nyxaris stepped out of the distortion. A perfect duplicate. Silent. Weightless. Walking as though carved from the same pale dreamstuff as the original. The illusion made no sound as it passed Ungrim, its cloak stirring without disturbing the air. It moved toward the nearest horse with slow, cautious steps — exactly as Nyxaris himself would.

The real Nyxaris remained behind, one hand lightly resting on the wagon’s wooden frame. His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried a soft warning, drifting like cold breath across the group. “Be ready… everyone.”

He guided the illusion with a subtle tilt of his fingers, sending the silent image of himself drifting toward the nearest horse — a pale, ghost like figure moving with impossible quiet through the blood‑stained trail. Nyxaris himself remained near the wagon, eyes half‑lidded, expression unreadable. But beneath that stillness, something sharpened — a quiet, cold focus.

Thalas watches Bozzlewick neigh, whinny and shake his head in some amazement before calling out "e the pukenga iti {which translates as clever little man} are you alright. Is there something I can do for you?" Without waiting for an answer he jumps down off the wagon and trident in hand, great axe strapped to his back, he says "right you are Kainanahu" and starts to examine the clearing (Perception = 20). He looks up at Nyraxis and then across at his duplicate in the clearing before muttering himself "now that is cool!"