Dragon of Icespire Peak ***CLOSED***

"Pickled? I hate pickles," Minsys said and then saw the group.  "Ha ha, funny.  It like an easy meal I bets."  Turning to all of them Minsys asks, "What the plan now?  Food?  Drink?  More shopping?"

Tabesha'l, who's wasted no time in sharing information about the price of 'decent' lodgings at the Northshield with the others, now looks a little concerned as she watches what seems like a haggle of unwary fortune-seekers preparing to make a very dangerous journey. She turns towards Connak and raises an eyebrow questioningly:

 " Art thou not concerned about yon unfortunate souls' obvious lack of care as they are about to become dragon bait, Thuniviel ? Should we not warn them of yon impending dangers, of which the White Wyrm is but one ? They should also be told about yon savage and fetid orcs, should they not ?"

Connak nods, "They should!  And it sounds like you just volunteered."

Vaxis frowns.

If friend Tabesha'l tells the tale, they wont' leave until the next full moon, he thinks to himself.

Vaxis approaches silently nodding to his compatriots.

"Hail, fellows. I am having heard you are going up to Neverwinter? Be careful, we have spoted and nearly died from a dragon and orcs. Sometimes at the same time, apparently!"

An awkward silence falls over the group of jovial adventure-seekers as they exchange a couple of nervous glances back and forth from Vaxis to each other. The one who responded to the name “Mordecai ” earlier turns towards the silver dragonborn and approaches. He appraises the cleric up and down a few times as if looking for some visual evidence that pairs with the claim Vaxis made.

”Dragons and orcs, huh...” the man says in a serious tone, then after a dramatic pause “...it must be Fourthday...” he deadpans and the entourage erupts with laughter. After a few seconds he cracks a smile and adds: “I’m guessing they’re kin of yours? ” while nodding back and forth to Minsys and Vaxis, sending several of his men into knee-slapping paralysis. One gasps so hard he accidentally swallows his air instead of breathing it, then belches half of it back out followed by a forceful stream of vomit.

Connak speaks to Tabesha'l in elvish, "There are a lot of good people the dragon can prey upon.  If men like these waste their lives and fill the belly of the beast, the good people may live another day.  Let them walk blindly in their ignorance."

Turning to the others, Connak says in common, "Leave them.  They're grown men and make their own choices."

"Yes, good meal for dragon... or pisses dragon off and he hassle more folk," Mjnsys responds and shrugs.  "No know fate of them.  I say let them be."

'Mmh... The attire fit for the outdoors, the somewhat more-than-rowdy manner, the collection of weaker and abjectly devoted individuals milling around the alpha male denoting humankind's primitive pack mentality, signs of recent excessive drinking... Yes, there can be little doubt, even the man's monicker doeth fit.'  Tabesha'l thinks to herself, before deciding to intervene:

" Would thou happen to be one Mordecai Fartheen, perchance... ?" the elven aristocrat asks haughtily, while walking towards the guffawing brute and his hangers-on, her head proudly erect under her ridiculously large wizard's hat. " Master Fartheen, it just so happens we were sent here to find thee... by one of thy old acquaintances of yore, I believe ? Doeth the name of Big Al Kalazorn ringeth a bell, mayhaps ?"

She then turns towards Ando and adds: " Master Fain, do produce said-letter, if thou wouldst be so kind."

Vaxis frowns, a low growl  barely audible through bare teeth.

He says nothing, content to let the more affable members of his crew sort these fools out.

The joviality falls away from the man’s face as he notices Tabesha’l...singular elves were rarely seen in Triboar, much less in pairs and certainly not ones of high birth. He straightens a bit, almost instinctively as one would for a schoolmarm that has entered a room of rowdy children. His eyebrows max out at the top of his forehead at the mention of Kalazorn and the production of the letter in his script.

”Yes, I’m Mordecai Fartheen and yes I know Al Kalazorn...” the man goes silent for several moments, his crew following suit. “He is a dear friend and I am forever in your debt for saving his life. Please forgive my, uh...brand of humor...we don’t take things too serious here in Triboar most of the time and most folks around here enjoy a good needling. I did not mean to, uh give offense...” Mordecai pulls off a leather glove and extends a hand in Vaxis’ direction. 

Vaxis grasps his hand warmly.

"I do not understand, but I accept your friendship!"

He grasps Mordecai's hand heartily.

"May Bahamut bless you!"

Connak can't help but comment from the back, "You're the guide... lovely.  Of all the things you should take seriously, a dragon on the hunt is one of them."

“Oh, you were serious about that?! Thought you all was just yanking my chain...which is why I responded in kind...heh,” the man laughs weakly both at the thought of encountering a hungry dragon on the way to Neverwinter as well as the thoroughly unamused facial expressions fixed on the group of strangers before him. “Well then, uh, the sheriff’s letter mentioned you were looking for some assistance with a map? How can I be of service?“ he stammers as he glances nervously skyward.

Mordecai Fartheen is a human male in his mid-forties, but fit/healthy-looking and full of zest. He is dressed in traveler’s clothing with what appears to be leather cuirass peeking out the top of the unbuttoned collar of a flowing white blouse. A mane of dark brown hair extends to the middle of his back from the underside of a tan swashbuckler’s hat featuring a large decorative broach at the front. On one hip is fastened an antique-looking rapier with a decorative cross-guard that looks like two intertwined dragons. The hilt of the weapon ended in a draconic-looking claw holding an orb that appears to shift colors erratically. Affixed to his opposite hip is a leather bandolier holding several shiny throwing knives, each one polished to a mirror-like shine and glinting in the afternoon sun.

”Go on lads, I’ll meet you at the Troll,” he says waving off his entourage. Turning back to face Vaxis, he releases the dragonborn’s clawed hand from his firm but respectable grip. “So...a dragonborn, a half-orc and two-and-a-half elves,” he says with a wink in Ando’s direction. “...quite an unusual combination to see here in Triboar, or almost anywhere for that matter. I get the feeling that you lot aren’t quite old school chums looking for the site of your next reunion...” he continues to ponder out loud.

”The Troll doesn’t open for a while, what say we get ourselves off this dusty street and go somewhere that we can talk comfortably. The Cart and Coin is right next door and owned by good friends of mine. They have a small library and map room in the back that would offer us some privacy. By your stern looks, I would imagine that you have some rather serious matters to discuss...”

The man motions to the way ahead and begins to move in that direction if the party seems willing to follow.

If anyone looks, Connak shrugs his shoulders in a "sure, lets go" fashion.

Ando falls in behind Mordecai. "Sheriff Kalazorn believed you might be able to help us decipher a map in order to uncover threats to Phadalin and the general area. The establishment you mentioned sounds like a good place to begin."

Tabesha'l holds her hat firmly clamped on her head as a sudden gust of wind almost sends it flying away, nods to Ando and says primly: " Indeed. To the Cart And Coin it is, then. After thee, Master Mordecai !"

The man leads the party back up the main thoroughfare towards the Talking Troll. The building just south of the disheveled tavern is a large mercantile business with numerous people coming and going. The collection of interconnected buildings all have floor-to-ceiling "barn door" shutters that, when opened, provides customers with a kind of open-air market experience.

As he enters through the front portal, he nods to a clerk across the room, who returns the silent signal and cuts his eyes to the side, as if to point Mordecai in that direction. They head past several rows of merchandise and through a threadbare, faded purple curtain. Beyond the curtain is a narrow staircase leading up to a rickety, cobwebbed attic that has been  converted into a map room of sorts. Rolled parchments fill racks of cubbyholes that surround an old table decorated with several charts, colored pins and navigational instruments.

Though the ceiling is rather low as it slopes to either side, there is plenty of headroom once the group is seated around the table in a odd assortment of stools, partially-broken chairs and small wooden crates.

"Now then," says Mordecai, "...let's see that map."

Vaxis moves up the stairs, finding a seat that will support his wide frame. Seeing one that is in the best shape, he takes a seat and waits for the others to join in. He listens intently for news on this map they found, and takes out some supplies to begin polishing his shield and armor while the others handle the important business.

Ando's attention drifts as he looks around the room at the various slide rules, start charts, scroll cases and other items of navigational significance. He absently pulls the hand-drawn charcoal map from his interior pocket and places it on the table, still folded.

Mordecai pulls it towards him, unfolding it carefully as he does. He uses a couple of small weights to hold the corners down and begins to survey the image. "Hmm, well it is obviously a crude depiction of the area west of Triboar. Yes...Neverwinter Wood, Sword Mountains, that spot in the middle must be Phandalin. Dear gods, did a child draw this?" He glances around at the party before his eyes land on Minsys. "Oh, I mean, uh..." he stammers. He leans in to whisper in Connak's ear: "...did the orcblood draw it?"

Without waiting to hear an answer, he assumed Minsys had indeed drawn the map and that he had insulted Minsys' artistic abilities in so doing. Mordecai nods an apology in the half-orc's direction and follows with: "I mean, its a very, very nice map. Truly remarkable. How else might I assist you with it?" he says looking for additional input from the party on what additional service he can provide.