The previous evening you were in a tavern, 'The White Toad', on the Southern edge of Neverwinter. You met with Gundren Rockseeker, an enthusiast dwarf, about a small job that he has for you.
He needs you, and your party, to escort a wagon of goods to a trading outpost called "Barthen's Provisions", in a small town called Phandalin. It seems a simple job, and you are in need of work, so you took the job. 2gp each now and 8 more upon delivery, easy coin! Phandalin is located a couple of days South of Neverwinter, on the outskirts of the Sword Mountains. It used to be a thriving mining town but is now a much smaller version of itself as the mines dried up in recent years.
Gundren was brimming with energy in the evening, but whenever any of you tried to press him for any further information he would dance around the subject saying things like "We're onto something big" or deftly change the subject. The only other item of information you manage to get out of him is that his two brothers are waiting for him (Nundro and Tharden).
During the evening you meet a friend of Gundren's, a serious human called Sildar Hallwinter, who seemed to spend most of the evening staring at each of you before heading off early without having a drink.
Gundren made his farewells fairly early in the evening, leaving enough coin behind the bar for you to carry on with your merriment until the small hours. Before he parts he mentions that he will be leaving early and travelling quickly, but will meet you at Barthen's Provisions when you arrive. He says to meet outside 'The White Toad' at sunrise with a friend of his called Herbert. He will have the wagon (complete with supplies and mules) and accompany you down the High Road until you turn inland, at which point he will continue further South on his travels.
With that you turn in for the night or take advantage of free drinks and the evening slowly blurs.
-------------------
The morning is clear and cold. There is a Human figure outside The White Toad, wrapped up in a heavy hooded cloak as protection against the cold, sat on a sad looking horse. Next to him is a basic looking wagon piled high with provisions, attached to some sadder looking mules.
Once you all arrive you begin your trek South as the sun continues to rise and temperatures climb. It doesn't take long to leave Neverwinter and soon you are on the High Road. Herbert rides slightly ahead of the wagon.
((Here we go. At least one of you will need to be sat on the wagon driving the mules, but there is space for two up front and one could lie amongst the supplies. Introduce yourselves and let me know whereabouts you are))
A short, slender elf in simple homespun giving the mules some attention, rubbing their muzzles and murmuring to them encouragingly. They seem desperate to accept any affection, unaffected by the unusual pale blue hue of the elf's skin. The little blue elf is unarmed and unarmored, carrying only his pack. "Well, Herbert," says the elf, not taking his eyes from the mules, "I, for one, am eager to be away from Neverwinter. Too many unfriendly eyes," he admits. He looks to the rest of the party. "Are we all here?"
Ryn: Accustom to traveling on foot, Ryn strides forward comfortably along the left flank of the wagon. While a slender man, he appears to be well-built beneath his weathered brown leather duster. Buckles and bits of the patchwork chain armor he wears can occasionally be seen underneath. Across his back are strapped a simple wooden shield, a bundle of spears and a wicked looking glaive - handle carved from the bones of some great beast and blade fashioned from a claw.
His right hand rests casually upon the crossbow holstered on his hip, while his left carries a simple wooden walking staff. He keeps a vigilant eye upon the horizon from beneath his wide-brimmed hat as he replies, "I am with you. The City is quite the sight, but is an unsettling place."
Melaria would have most likely been late, mainly due to the fact that, if she can help it, she tries to make herself look good. If you're going to die, die looking good. Was a saying that stuck with her growing up. As she would arrive to the meeting spot, you'd see a red Tiefling, with darker red horns, with golden decorations near the tips of the horns. Her long black/purple hair falls down to her mid back. She usually wears only a cloth tunic, attached at the shoulders by a pair of golden skulls, but due to the cold weather, she'd have a long, flowing cloak on, with the hood up to help protect from the weather. A tattoo of a skulls can be seen going down the right side of her neck.
Not being great with animals, she wouldn't have offered to drive the wagon, but she'd ask to sit on the wagon. Not that she opposes walking, she's just a strong believer in saving her strength incase it's needed at another time. After hearing the comments made about Neverwinter, she'd respond in a soft voice. "I don't know about you, but I had quite a pleasant stay here. I wouldn't mind coming back."
Tygron Blackhammer a middle- aged dwarf, balding, with a red beard streaked with grey, sits in the corner with a flagon of ale. He smiles when Melaria walks in, late, as he expected. " "Better late than never", he says to her, in a gruff voice. He surveys the gathering group with an approving gaze, even Indio gets a smile. "I'm thinkin we're going to have a good journey, Marthammer be with us".
He wears a very finely made suit of chain mail under a grey traveling cloak, and carries a similarly well-crafted shield with a holy symbol of a mace in front of a boot. In spite of the mace on his shield, he carries (also a very well made) dwarven style warhammer, and a dagger is at one hip. He seems ready for a journey, with a full pack near his feet.
Tygron will help drive the mules. While he's not skilled with handling animals, he's got a natural wisdom and calm demeanor.
Indio stops distracting the animals so Tygron can get them moving, and falls in step across the cart from Ryn. At least, he would be in step if the human weren't so long-legged. "That leaves you, good dwarf," he probes amiably, "are you not from Neverwinter, either?"
Tygron looks at the elf with a smile, as he gently gets the mules moving down the road. He occasionally glances at Melaria sitting next to him, almost like a father would at his daughter, a mix of pride and concern.
“Nah, I’m from Mirabar, ‘twas a smith and jeweler there, afore I took up this travelin life”
As the journey continues, he hints that some tragedy led to this life change for him, but he doesn’t tell that tale.
Melaria will look around at the scenery, taking it all in, acting as if she doesn't notice Tygron glancing at her.
"It's crazy, all these beautiful trees and flowers, only to be stricken down with time, ending up as fertilizer for the next grouping. Fortunate for them, they dont have to deal with the problems and stresses of people."
Melaria looks to the others in the group.
"If you could, would you be a tree, or would you stay who you are?"
Quote from ZarquonDutch>> "Well, Herbert," says the elf, not taking his eyes from the mules, "I, for one, am eager to be away from Neverwinter. Too many unfriendly eyes," he admits. He looks to the rest of the party. "Are we all here?"
Herbert responds "Neverwinter has it's place, but it's nice to leave sometimes" and looks to the West to the ocean glinting in the sun. Then he sighs "There should be five of you, but we couldn't hang around all morning waiting. Perhaps they will catch us on the road... and Gunthren won't be too dissapointed at the lost 2 gold pieces"
"If you could, would you be a tree, or would you stay who you are?"
Herbert's brow furrows as he considers this, "Quite the question, one I will need some time to consider."
As you continue your travels the sun traces an arc high in the sky and it continues to warm. Herbert removes and stashes his thick cloak, revealing an older man with closely cropped grey hair and beard. A simple short sword hangs on his hip. The further you get from Neverwinter the thinner the traffic gets, but the road still feels safe.
"If we take lunch on the move you should easily make Phandalin in two days"
Ryn: Pondering the question a moment, Ryn replies, "Met an old druid hermit once that would probably accept the offer. He even looked sort of like a tree, if you squinted just right. Personally though, I prefer limbs that can wield a stout weapon."
Not wanting to stop, Ryn makes a midday meal of jerky and a trail mix containing all manner of nuts, seeds, berries, and dried fruit. He offers some to the group, saying proudly, "Made it myself!"
He continues to guard the left flank of the wagon as it bounces down the road, enjoying the company and conversation as the day passes.
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"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Tygron considers Melaria’s question and chuckles “Heh, with me luck, me as a tree would end up as kindlin, er worse- an ugly carving in some pompous waterdeep noble’s house. I think I’ll stay a grumpy old dwarf fer now.” Despite claiming to be a grumpy dwarf, he seems to be enjoying the journey. He’s fine eating on the road.
Melaria, not really wanting to stop either will go on the side of eatting while moving. Taking out her pack and digging out some berries and leafs. She begins to mix them and eat them. Keeping to herself for the rest of the trip.
A sack nobody seemed to notice shifts in the corner of the cart, and the point of a dagger slowly pierces it from the inside. With a quick slash, the sack is open and a messy-haired elf cautiously peeks out, squinting up at the sun. He pulls himself free of the sack, looks at the rest of the party with a sheepish grin as a pair of manacles drops from his hands. "Neverwinter's never far enough away, am I right?"
He doesn't wait for an answer before rummaging around the contents of the cart, muttering to himself about "freedom" and "research" until he clutches a traveller's pack and hefts it up onto the side of the cart. He pulls two small books from underneath his shirt and stuffs them into the pack. With a satisfied grin, he sets the pack back onto the pile and looks around again, taking in the entirety of the party for the first time.
"You'll have to forgive me. I had a disagreement with a shopkeeper last night and thought it best to pack myself away until we were clear of that greedy town. Imagine, charging four gold for some dusty tomes! He was just begging me to liberate them!" He then makes a point of asking Indio directly: "Brother, have you ever had such a rude welcome from such a backwater burg?"
He throws himself down on the luggage with that last question and breathes deeply. We can now see the entirety of him -- a slight pale-blue elf with silvery hair, wearing leather armor with several pockets, and with a bundle of small metal tools stuffed into his belt. He rests his hand on this bundle and seems to take comfort in their presence. "Please call me Teo. Herbert, friend, thank you for leaving on time. I'm not sure how much longer I could have lasted in that sack."
Melaria jumps up and spins around as the Elf works their way out of the sack, she readies a spell and waits for the Elf to be aggressive. With the Elf not doing much except talking, she relaxes herself and spins back around without a word. Looking down at the dropped berries, she'll shake her head, take more out and continue eating.
“Aye there ye are” the grizzled dwarf Tygron says. “‘‘Twas Hopin ye’d show up sooner n later. Eh don’t knows much about book prices but fer that, hope they are good readin!”
Herbert looks round as Teo emerges nonchalantly from a sack and nearly gets blasted by a Warlock. He rocks his head back and laughs. "Oh Gundren, you do pick 'em. Oh to be 30 years younger and to join you lot of fine looking adventurers. You'll need a name for yourselves before long I'm sure, I'll start by calling you the Uncertain Five. Tell me, how did you all come to meet the wonder that is Gundren?"
-----
The rest of the day passes quietly and the weather is kind to you. Before dark you stop, prepare food and set up camp. The road is still busy enough that it feels safe. Nonetheless you take turns at watch and the night passes peacefully. The quiet only interrupted by those travelling through the night or the distant howl of wolves.
----
The morning is cold once again and a mist has come in off the sea, leaving everything a little damp. After a quick breakfast, you pack up, grab the mules and wagon and continue onwards.
Over breakfast Herbert mentions that it's only an hour or so until you part ways. You will turn inland on a trail called The Triboar Trail and that should take you to Phandalin.
When you reach the trail head he stops and points to you where to go. "The roads still good on the trail, but the vegetation does hug the path quite closely. There's been talk of raiders and the like on bits of the trail, so be careful. And take care around Gundren, he's a good guy but people always seem to get into trouble around him!". You say your goodbyes and he's about to leave when he pauses and beckons Tygron over. He has a few quiet words with the dwarf and passes him something. The rest of the group is too far away to see or hear anything.
Will PM you what he says
As you leave the High Road and start down the Triboar Trail you do notice the lack of openness you became accustomed to on the High Road.
((Will assume you take the same marching order as before?))
Teo takes out his longbow and rapier, and sets himself up at the back of the wagon, using some loose sacks for a bit of cover. He checks his arrows and bowstring on occasion, to pass the time. "Ran into some rough characters on the road from the Thundertree ruins. Some of these locals aren't shy about commandeering a poorly guarded wagon. I'd say we look intimidating enough, but let's keep an eye out, all the same."
The little blue elf watches in wide-eyed alarm another version of him emerges from the sacks. After a few moments staring at the figure he begins to compose himself. He looks the taller elf over and, after a moment, finally replies to the rogue. "A lot of 'liberating' available in Neverwinter," he notes, his voice still a bit hollow. "I'm surprised you'd want to leave home so precipitously."
Tygron watches the road carefully, also paying attention to the Mules, guessing they have more keen senses than he does. Whenever there’s a place which is better suited for an ambush than average, he says a little quiet prayer (casts guidance) and studies it for ambushers, while keeping moving. His shield and warhamer are in easy each at his feet, but he’s not showing off his armor, carefully wrapped up in that weathered woolen hooded traveling cloak.
Melaria looks to Tygron and with the secret meeting with Herbert, and noticing Tygron looking around a little more than usual, she'll quietly ask him. "Are we expecting company?"
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N/A
Indio Syvanath
A short, slender elf in simple homespun giving the mules some attention, rubbing their muzzles and murmuring to them encouragingly. They seem desperate to accept any affection, unaffected by the unusual pale blue hue of the elf's skin. The little blue elf is unarmed and unarmored, carrying only his pack. "Well, Herbert," says the elf, not taking his eyes from the mules, "I, for one, am eager to be away from Neverwinter. Too many unfriendly eyes," he admits. He looks to the rest of the party. "Are we all here?"
Ryn: Accustom to traveling on foot, Ryn strides forward comfortably along the left flank of the wagon. While a slender man, he appears to be well-built beneath his weathered brown leather duster. Buckles and bits of the patchwork chain armor he wears can occasionally be seen underneath. Across his back are strapped a simple wooden shield, a bundle of spears and a wicked looking glaive - handle carved from the bones of some great beast and blade fashioned from a claw.
His right hand rests casually upon the crossbow holstered on his hip, while his left carries a simple wooden walking staff. He keeps a vigilant eye upon the horizon from beneath his wide-brimmed hat as he replies, "I am with you. The City is quite the sight, but is an unsettling place."
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Melaria would have most likely been late, mainly due to the fact that, if she can help it, she tries to make herself look good. If you're going to die, die looking good. Was a saying that stuck with her growing up. As she would arrive to the meeting spot, you'd see a red Tiefling, with darker red horns, with golden decorations near the tips of the horns. Her long black/purple hair falls down to her mid back. She usually wears only a cloth tunic, attached at the shoulders by a pair of golden skulls, but due to the cold weather, she'd have a long, flowing cloak on, with the hood up to help protect from the weather. A tattoo of a skulls can be seen going down the right side of her neck.
Not being great with animals, she wouldn't have offered to drive the wagon, but she'd ask to sit on the wagon. Not that she opposes walking, she's just a strong believer in saving her strength incase it's needed at another time. After hearing the comments made about Neverwinter, she'd respond in a soft voice. "I don't know about you, but I had quite a pleasant stay here. I wouldn't mind coming back."
I don't have a signature.
Tygron Blackhammer a middle- aged dwarf, balding, with a red beard streaked with grey, sits in the corner with a flagon of ale. He smiles when Melaria walks in, late, as he expected. "
"Better late than never", he says to her, in a gruff voice. He surveys the gathering group with an approving gaze, even Indio gets a smile. "I'm thinkin we're going to have a good journey, Marthammer be with us".
He wears a very finely made suit of chain mail under a grey traveling cloak, and carries a similarly well-crafted shield with a holy symbol of a mace in front of a boot. In spite of the mace on his shield, he carries (also a very well made) dwarven style warhammer, and a dagger is at one hip. He seems ready for a journey, with a full pack near his feet.
Tygron will help drive the mules. While he's not skilled with handling animals, he's got a natural wisdom and calm demeanor.
Indio Sylvanath
Indio stops distracting the animals so Tygron can get them moving, and falls in step across the cart from Ryn. At least, he would be in step if the human weren't so long-legged. "That leaves you, good dwarf," he probes amiably, "are you not from Neverwinter, either?"
Tygron looks at the elf with a smile, as he gently gets the mules moving down the road. He occasionally glances at Melaria sitting next to him, almost like a father would at his daughter, a mix of pride and concern.
“Nah, I’m from Mirabar, ‘twas a smith and jeweler there, afore I took up this travelin life”
As the journey continues, he hints that some tragedy led to this life change for him, but he doesn’t tell that tale.
Melaria will look around at the scenery, taking it all in, acting as if she doesn't notice Tygron glancing at her.
"It's crazy, all these beautiful trees and flowers, only to be stricken down with time, ending up as fertilizer for the next grouping. Fortunate for them, they dont have to deal with the problems and stresses of people."
Melaria looks to the others in the group.
"If you could, would you be a tree, or would you stay who you are?"
I don't have a signature.
Herbert responds "Neverwinter has it's place, but it's nice to leave sometimes" and looks to the West to the ocean glinting in the sun. Then he sighs "There should be five of you, but we couldn't hang around all morning waiting. Perhaps they will catch us on the road... and Gunthren won't be too dissapointed at the lost 2 gold pieces"
Herbert's brow furrows as he considers this, "Quite the question, one I will need some time to consider."
As you continue your travels the sun traces an arc high in the sky and it continues to warm. Herbert removes and stashes his thick cloak, revealing an older man with closely cropped grey hair and beard. A simple short sword hangs on his hip. The further you get from Neverwinter the thinner the traffic gets, but the road still feels safe.
"If we take lunch on the move you should easily make Phandalin in two days"
N/A
Ryn: Pondering the question a moment, Ryn replies, "Met an old druid hermit once that would probably accept the offer. He even looked sort of like a tree, if you squinted just right. Personally though, I prefer limbs that can wield a stout weapon."
Not wanting to stop, Ryn makes a midday meal of jerky and a trail mix containing all manner of nuts, seeds, berries, and dried fruit. He offers some to the group, saying proudly, "Made it myself!"
He continues to guard the left flank of the wagon as it bounces down the road, enjoying the company and conversation as the day passes.
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Tygron considers Melaria’s question and chuckles “Heh, with me luck, me as a tree would end up as kindlin, er worse- an ugly carving in some pompous waterdeep noble’s house. I think I’ll stay a grumpy old dwarf fer now.” Despite claiming to be a grumpy dwarf, he seems to be enjoying the journey. He’s fine eating on the road.
Melaria, not really wanting to stop either will go on the side of eatting while moving. Taking out her pack and digging out some berries and leafs. She begins to mix them and eat them. Keeping to herself for the rest of the trip.
I don't have a signature.
A sack nobody seemed to notice shifts in the corner of the cart, and the point of a dagger slowly pierces it from the inside. With a quick slash, the sack is open and a messy-haired elf cautiously peeks out, squinting up at the sun. He pulls himself free of the sack, looks at the rest of the party with a sheepish grin as a pair of manacles drops from his hands. "Neverwinter's never far enough away, am I right?"
He doesn't wait for an answer before rummaging around the contents of the cart, muttering to himself about "freedom" and "research" until he clutches a traveller's pack and hefts it up onto the side of the cart. He pulls two small books from underneath his shirt and stuffs them into the pack. With a satisfied grin, he sets the pack back onto the pile and looks around again, taking in the entirety of the party for the first time.
"You'll have to forgive me. I had a disagreement with a shopkeeper last night and thought it best to pack myself away until we were clear of that greedy town. Imagine, charging four gold for some dusty tomes! He was just begging me to liberate them!" He then makes a point of asking Indio directly: "Brother, have you ever had such a rude welcome from such a backwater burg?"
He throws himself down on the luggage with that last question and breathes deeply. We can now see the entirety of him -- a slight pale-blue elf with silvery hair, wearing leather armor with several pockets, and with a bundle of small metal tools stuffed into his belt. He rests his hand on this bundle and seems to take comfort in their presence. "Please call me Teo. Herbert, friend, thank you for leaving on time. I'm not sure how much longer I could have lasted in that sack."
Mel: Champions of the Dragon Wars
Melaria jumps up and spins around as the Elf works their way out of the sack, she readies a spell and waits for the Elf to be aggressive. With the Elf not doing much except talking, she relaxes herself and spins back around without a word. Looking down at the dropped berries, she'll shake her head, take more out and continue eating.
I don't have a signature.
“Aye there ye are” the grizzled dwarf Tygron says. “‘‘Twas Hopin ye’d show up sooner n later. Eh don’t knows much about book prices but fer that, hope they are good readin!”
Herbert looks round as Teo emerges nonchalantly from a sack and nearly gets blasted by a Warlock. He rocks his head back and laughs. "Oh Gundren, you do pick 'em. Oh to be 30 years younger and to join you lot of fine looking adventurers. You'll need a name for yourselves before long I'm sure, I'll start by calling you the Uncertain Five. Tell me, how did you all come to meet the wonder that is Gundren?"
-----
The rest of the day passes quietly and the weather is kind to you. Before dark you stop, prepare food and set up camp. The road is still busy enough that it feels safe. Nonetheless you take turns at watch and the night passes peacefully. The quiet only interrupted by those travelling through the night or the distant howl of wolves.
----
The morning is cold once again and a mist has come in off the sea, leaving everything a little damp. After a quick breakfast, you pack up, grab the mules and wagon and continue onwards.
Over breakfast Herbert mentions that it's only an hour or so until you part ways. You will turn inland on a trail called The Triboar Trail and that should take you to Phandalin.
When you reach the trail head he stops and points to you where to go. "The roads still good on the trail, but the vegetation does hug the path quite closely. There's been talk of raiders and the like on bits of the trail, so be careful. And take care around Gundren, he's a good guy but people always seem to get into trouble around him!". You say your goodbyes and he's about to leave when he pauses and beckons Tygron over. He has a few quiet words with the dwarf and passes him something. The rest of the group is too far away to see or hear anything.
Will PM you what he says
As you leave the High Road and start down the Triboar Trail you do notice the lack of openness you became accustomed to on the High Road.
((Will assume you take the same marching order as before?))
N/A
Teo takes out his longbow and rapier, and sets himself up at the back of the wagon, using some loose sacks for a bit of cover. He checks his arrows and bowstring on occasion, to pass the time. "Ran into some rough characters on the road from the Thundertree ruins. Some of these locals aren't shy about commandeering a poorly guarded wagon. I'd say we look intimidating enough, but let's keep an eye out, all the same."
Mel: Champions of the Dragon Wars
Indio Sylvanath
The little blue elf watches in wide-eyed alarm another version of him emerges from the sacks. After a few moments staring at the figure he begins to compose himself. He looks the taller elf over and, after a moment, finally replies to the rogue. "A lot of 'liberating' available in Neverwinter," he notes, his voice still a bit hollow. "I'm surprised you'd want to leave home so precipitously."
Tygron watches the road carefully, also paying attention to the Mules, guessing they have more keen senses than he does. Whenever there’s a place which is better suited for an ambush than average, he says a little quiet prayer (casts guidance) and studies it for ambushers, while keeping moving. His shield and warhamer are in easy each at his feet, but he’s not showing off his armor, carefully wrapped up in that weathered woolen hooded traveling cloak.
his passive perception is 13.
Melaria looks to Tygron and with the secret meeting with Herbert, and noticing Tygron looking around a little more than usual, she'll quietly ask him. "Are we expecting company?"
I don't have a signature.