Dragon of Icespire Peak ***CLOSED***

Connak sees the state of the snares and decides it would be best to go foraging...

Survival: 6

Vadernul has no luck trapping small game, but Connak is able to gather 2 pounds of edible berries, fern fronds and tuber roots and puddle containing 7 gallons of fresh/unfiltered rain water.

Connak returns with 2 pounds of berries for the party, and brings them to the water so they can refill their waterskins.

"Not my best find.  Hopefully Vadernul catches something."

Vadernul comes back hanging his head.  “Sorry friends, she didn’t want us to catch anything today.”

Tabesha'l settles down with her waterskin and pours some of it in a small tumbler she pulls out of her mess kit. She raises her eyes up to her new, very tall hat and whispers a few words as she wiggles her graceful fingers over the water inside the cup.

** Another attempt with the Hat of Wizardry, this time for the Prestidigitation cantrip: Arcana 8 **

" Please do not concern thyselves with today's limited fare, friends ! There is much cause for celebration after our recent ordeal with yon surprisingly perilous gnomish lair, so celebrate we shall..."

She stands up and comes towards Vadernul, still holding the cup. Where there was once water, the firbolg smells the unmistakable aroma of hot mulled wine, spiced up with rum, cloves and cinnamon.

" 'Tis of course but a poor imitation of the real thing, yet I thought thy could use the heartening provided." the elven mage quips as she offers the warm beverage to the sylvan tribesman 

“I appreciate all your efforts.”  As he nods to the group.  “It does feel good to get out into the open once again.”  He smells the cup before drinking it down and smiles at Tabesha’l

Insight check: 21

Deception check: 20

(Junk roll to force the forum to display the result above: 2)

Vaxis refills his waterskin and takes a seat next to the others.

"It has been having a long journey so far, and I foresee a long journey ahead. What should our next destination be, friends?"

Tabesha'l considers the dragonborn's question as she soflty blows on her cup of hot wine while craddling it in her hands.

" Tis a difficult choice to make indeed. Yon Tower seems quite a risky and lenghty journey, yet we don't seem to have any other leads in our quest to find the young white wyrm, nevermind defeating its monstrous might..."

 The elven noblewoman seems to go deep into her own thoughts and remains silent for a long while, quietly sipping her drink, moving her delicately carved lips from time to time to silently mouth some enigmatic words in her native elven tongue, before she speaks up again. Her eyes are fixed on the line of trees emerging behind her companions as she muses: " ... of course the mysteries and hidden magic that we'd drag from that accursed and very likely haunted place may give us the means to fight the dragon. But a beacon of Darkness, tainted by such foul magic such as this also may turn out to be our downfall, or at the very least make us lose some precious time while the town of Phandalin suffers on."

She looks up from her mug and sets eyes of a deep cobalt hue into Vaxis' serpentine pupils. " Methinks the wisest and most prudent course of action would be to seek someone wise in the ways of the world... someone who could give us more details on this Tower Of Storms, for one. Obviously a regular researcher's first course of action in a matter such as this one would be to go to Yartar, contact the Sage named Esklindrar and vie for his knowledge on the subject. Yet, I fear that time being of the essence, we may have to content ourselves with another interview of Phandalin's denizens for now..."

The last lingerings of sunlight fade into the darkness of the wild outdoors as the party settles in for the night. The bounty collected by Connak feeds the party well, punctuated by Tabesha'l's magical seasoning. Glad to be rid of the Gnomengardians, the group whiles away the hours pondering their next move and enjoying one another's company and the embrace of the modest but relatively comfortable rocky shelter.

The night proceeds uneventfully as the group takes turns keeping the watch, with the cacophony of tree frogs and cicadas lulling the others to sleep. Hours later, the dawning sun finds a keyhole in the dense umbrella of forest canopy through which to stab a narrow beam of light into the resting eyes of Sergeant Barric Torvan.

Though the man was sound asleep, the small cloth rank insignia he collected from the gnome's "treasure hoard" could be seen firmly in his grasp. In the light of the morning, the crusty, sanguine stains on the item were clearly not dye, but rather spilled from some other source...

(OOC: everyone can take a long rest and reset your counters on your character sheets)

Connak stands ready, looking forward, "Right then.  Lets get moving, there's not much to forage here.  But I may be able to find more to eat as we go."

(Survival for finding the way back to Phandalin first, food second)

Survival: 10

Vadernul is happy to follow behind

Barric will take up his usual position as the rearguard. Now that the group is away from the gnomish city, he seems lighter on his feet and you even see him smile a few times. 

The party travels uneventfully for five hours, arriving in Phandalin at noon. The streets aren't empty, but activity is extremely light for a frontier town at this time of day.

Entering town from the south, the group approaches the Miner's Exchange as they move towards the center of town.

Further up the street ahead, Elmer Barthen's shophands, Ander and Thistle notice the party has returned and nod a silent greeting to them as they unload a cart of supplies that presumably just arrived from Neverwinter.

Toblen Stonehill stands with arms crossed on the corner in front of the inn/tavern, clearly open for business but without a single customer to serve.

Connak will approach Toblen, "Seems deserted around here.  Did the dragon show itself?  What news do you have?"

"Nay, it's been rather quiet lately, at least as far as dragon sightings go...which is exactly why the streets are bare. The wyrm is sure to be getting hungry and the longer we go without an attack, the more likely an attack becomes. There's big trouble up at Kalazorn's place near Conybery though...orcs. Lone rider came in just this mornin' - said he was the only man to escape Butterskull Ranch with his life! Four others were killed and Big Al has been hauled off by the horde. Al Kalazorn is about as stout as they come - he was the sheriff of Triboar for many years, but he's not as spry as he used to be. Still, I would hate to be the orc on the receivin' end o' that man ire."

"Heard ye been to Gnomengarde, he he...They still living off a diet of giant toadstools? As if gnomes weren't crazy enough, that bunch has been ingesting raw wild magic for years...surprised those knuckle-heads ain't blown the Sword Mountains off the face of Toril by now."

Barric come alongside Connak, and a pained expression crosses Barric's face as he is freshly reminded of their recent excursion among the gnomes.

"Yes, we went to Gnomengarde. And yes, I am surprised as well they have not managed to destroy themselves just to see what it is like. But as little said about the gnomes the better. Is the rider from Butterskull Ranch still here? I would like to speak to him."

“Aye, he’s resting in a bed upstairs. Me wife is nursin’ ‘im back to health, but he’s conscious. He had some soup just while ago, and we sent Ander from Barthen’s to go fetch a healing potion from Ms. Gwynn over in Umbrage Hill. Go on up, he said his name was Timothy Yander.”

Connak shrugs, "You were all asking what to do next..."  He heads upstairs to meet Timothy.

Vaxis follows, interested in Connaks interation.