Please tell her that these giants are acting with haste and purpose to carve out glory for themselves, to cement a new place for themselves in giant society and to prove themselves to their gods through blood and violence. This all comes to us from one of their own people, sympathetic to the rest of us.
Stubborn fools. Why do they not heed our words of warning! I fear the giants will have no problems carving a new kingdom for themselves if this is how the locals react
As you make your way to the tavern, your breath misting angrily, Brennan interjects. “Now now before we judge these people too harshly you must remember these folk deal with hardships on a daily basis that are unknown in the fairer climates we are accustomed to. For instance the Ten Towns are the only place in ‘civilised’ lands where human sacrifice is made once a year to appease Auril, goddess of winter, and it is deemed acceptable if not palatable to the city states along the rest of the sword coast. We have delivered the message, albeit indirectly, all we can do now is wait for the morning and help prepare as best we can. Come! Dinner and the first round of drinks are on me!”
You enter Kelvin’s Comfort. The common room is bedecked with dwarven craft of Battlehammer make, but most of the liquors are imported from Mirabar, on the other side of the Spine of the World. The one Ten-Towns specialty of note is a treacly mead from Good Mead, a neighboring settlement.
Brennan settles onto a large table big enough for you all, elbowing a few caravan guards out of the way, and orders food, drink and rooms for you all from the ginger bearded dwarf who walks over to take orders.
The lyre is badly put of tune due to a lack of care over the last week. Eoan is politely told to stop before several of the dwarves offer to insert it into anatomically questionable orifices.
The night passes and thanks to Eoans improving performances you are able to make enough coin that the night doesn’t cost anything, the owner Ogden Flamebeard, gives you the room and your drinks on the house, you’ve managed to make him more coin that you cost him and he is happy to spread the love a little bit.
Another dreadfully cold day in Icewind Dale has you bundled up in your warmest furs. Bryn Shander’s market square bustles with knucklehead trout fishers selling their finest scrimshaw to traders from the south, while other common folk warm their hands and faces by small campfires. Everywhere across town, people are trudging through snow-covered streets on errands. The town’s outer walls block the worst of the wind, but not all of it. A sudden blast occasionally catches everyone by surprise, causing shivers and grumbling all around.
The mood of the town changes abruptly. Something is amiss. Pedestrians are vacating the square with great haste, disappearing into their hovels. As spear-toting guards with grim faces move with purpose toward the southwest gate, you hear a booming voice from that direction as it calls out, “Surrender Artus Cimber or die!”
You follow on the heels of Brennan and find the south west gate still closed. Towering on the opposite side of the walls are three frost giants and two snow wolves. The leader has an ornate headdress and a large horn. Stood on the ramparts you see the town guard with the sheriff arriving just before you do.
Jhee-Kharr focuses his attention on the giants, trying to pick up anything said in their native tongue. He is poised ready to react if anything were to be lobbed.
“Give us Artus Cimber or die!” The lead giantess bellows again. “This is your final warning!”
Markham Southwell, the sheriff, stands atop the ramparts “There is none here by that name! Who is he and what has he done to earn your ire?”
Duvessa Shayne, the town speaker edges past Augrek and into the gatehouse to stand next to Markham. Drufi, the giantess scowls, “We know Cimber is here! Your lies will only mean your death with his. Last chance hand over Cimber or suffer the same fate!”
Elsewhere a young woman in vagrants attire, Beldora, slips through the market and waits outside of the Temple of Torm and interjects as a young man, Sirac of Suzail, leaves in a rush to try and get to the gates. “Not so fast friend, last thing we need is some unnecessary heroics”
The sheriffs deputy Augrek appears on the ramparts, loading her crossbow along with a number of similarly armed archers. She nods at Leo, ready to strike.
Please tell her that these giants are acting with haste and purpose to carve out glory for themselves, to cement a new place for themselves in giant society and to prove themselves to their gods through blood and violence. This all comes to us from one of their own people, sympathetic to the rest of us.
We will await word at Kevin's Comfort
Stubborn fools. Why do they not heed our words of warning! I fear the giants will have no problems carving a new kingdom for themselves if this is how the locals react
As you make your way to the tavern, your breath misting angrily, Brennan interjects. “Now now before we judge these people too harshly you must remember these folk deal with hardships on a daily basis that are unknown in the fairer climates we are accustomed to. For instance the Ten Towns are the only place in ‘civilised’ lands where human sacrifice is made once a year to appease Auril, goddess of winter, and it is deemed acceptable if not palatable to the city states along the rest of the sword coast. We have delivered the message, albeit indirectly, all we can do now is wait for the morning and help prepare as best we can. Come! Dinner and the first round of drinks are on me!”
You enter Kelvin’s Comfort. The common room is bedecked with dwarven craft of Battlehammer make, but most of the liquors are imported from Mirabar, on the other side of the Spine of the World. The one Ten-Towns specialty of note is a treacly mead from Good Mead, a neighboring settlement.
Brennan settles onto a large table big enough for you all, elbowing a few caravan guards out of the way, and orders food, drink and rooms for you all from the ginger bearded dwarf who walks over to take orders.
Eoan sits at the table and taking the lute from his pack begins to strum and sing songs of adventure , maidens and peril alike .
performance 6
The lyre is badly put of tune due to a lack of care over the last week. Eoan is politely told to stop before several of the dwarves offer to insert it into anatomically questionable orifices.
“Friends ! Another chance ? Please ! “ Eoan clears his throat tuning the lite and tries something more upbeat to please the crowd .
performance 8
The drunken dwarves settle down as you change song to a more martial tune and a song about lusty barmaids and gold.
The night passes and thanks to Eoans improving performances you are able to make enough coin that the night doesn’t cost anything, the owner Ogden Flamebeard, gives you the room and your drinks on the house, you’ve managed to make him more coin that you cost him and he is happy to spread the love a little bit.
Another dreadfully cold day in Icewind Dale has you bundled up in your warmest furs. Bryn Shander’s market square bustles with knucklehead trout fishers selling their finest scrimshaw to traders from the south, while other common folk warm their hands and faces by small campfires. Everywhere across town, people are trudging through snow-covered streets on errands. The town’s outer walls block the worst of the wind, but not all of it. A sudden blast occasionally catches everyone by surprise, causing shivers and grumbling all around.
The mood of the town changes abruptly. Something is amiss. Pedestrians are vacating the square with great haste, disappearing into their hovels. As spear-toting guards with grim faces move with purpose toward the southwest gate, you hear a booming voice from that direction as it calls out, “Surrender Artus Cimber or die!”
Brennan sound towards the south west gate. “Think that’s us let’s get going!”
You follow on the heels of Brennan and find the south west gate still closed. Towering on the opposite side of the walls are three frost giants and two snow wolves. The leader has an ornate headdress and a large horn.
Stood on the ramparts you see the town guard with the sheriff arriving just before you do.
Jhee-Kharr focuses his attention on the giants, trying to pick up anything said in their native tongue. He is poised ready to react if anything were to be lobbed.
Leo slips behind the ramparts, aiming to stay out of sight ready to strike
stealth 10
“Give us Artus Cimber or die!” The lead giantess bellows again. “This is your final warning!”
Markham Southwell, the sheriff, stands atop the ramparts “There is none here by that name! Who is he and what has he done to earn your ire?”
Duvessa Shayne, the town speaker edges past Augrek and into the gatehouse to stand next to Markham. Drufi, the giantess scowls, “We know Cimber is here! Your lies will only mean your death with his. Last chance hand over Cimber or suffer the same fate!”
Elsewhere a young woman in vagrants attire, Beldora, slips through the market and waits outside of the Temple of Torm and interjects as a young man, Sirac of Suzail, leaves in a rush to try and get to the gates. “Not so fast friend, last thing we need is some unnecessary heroics”
The sheriffs deputy Augrek appears on the ramparts, loading her crossbow along with a number of similarly armed archers. She nods at Leo, ready to strike.
Carilius positions himself close to the rest of group, drawing his rapier. As he does so a faint whispering trickles through his mind
The ice giants are mocking you. They think their stature makes them dangerous, go on show them the error of their ways. Punish them for their audacity
Sirac is startled at her sudden appearance, but tries his best to look resolute.
"I have to help. I have to protect my home. You should find somewhere to hide."
If you’re going to do what I think you are then you can’t protect them dead! Your father was one of us so by extension so are you replies Beldora