You have all made your way to the Northlook Inn located near the Northern Gate of Bryn Shander. As you enter the inn, you make yourself at home and immediately remember why this is an inn that caters to adventurers; it is outrageously expensive. You’ll need to get more money if you plan to stay long. But there is no better place to find information or work in the Ten-Towns.

Walking past the job board, you see a lonely notice pinned thereto. It has obviously been there for weeks. It reads as follows:

“Help required for research into magical Icewind Dale beings. Incredible danger unlikely. Reasonable rates offered. Serious inquiries only. Contact Dannika at Geldenstag’s Rest Inn”

As you settle in for the evening with an ale and a bowl of stew (or, in the case of Blackberry, with a rag and a bucket of washwater), a group of three dwarves enter the inn, looking the worse for wear.

“Well met, travelers! I am Hruna and these are my friends Korux and Storn. I’m afraid we are in a bit of trouble and could use some help. The work pays and should conclude quickly. This is the second night we come to you; soon it will no doubt be too late. Will no-one come to our aid?”

Most of the townsfolk turn back to their meals. Things are tough all over in Bryn-Shander and who has time to help wealthy dwarves come from their hidey-hole at Kelvin’s Cairn. The three dwarves, downtrodden at the reaction, enter a huddle and quietly whisper amongst themselves. What do you do?

Blackberry thinks to himself, I'm never going to get out of debt scrubbing floors all day long... this sounds like as good a chance as any to change my luck!

He will stand, brush himself off, and approach the dwarves.  "Excuse me, sirs, I hear that you are needing some help, and as it happens, I am in need of better employment.  May I offer you my humble services, such as they are?  I am a skilled tinker and smith, and have some skill at healing as well."

Aubin Honormore eyes the dwarves with a calculating eye. Hmm...they look disheveled, but the dwarves may have the connections I need to find my quarry. He stands and straightens his refined cloak.

"Greetings gentlemen, perhaps I may be of service to your plight. Now Hruna, can you explain what kind of problem are you 3 facing"

A slender half-elf with a quarterstaff and longbow on her back turns from where she was inspecting the lone job posting on the board, as if by waiting there she could will more jobs into existence.  Her eyes are pale green and her hair done up in a bob behind her head, dark brown.  Though on closer inspection, that might not be its true color.  She has a gaze that is both steady and kind, yet also looks like that of a hunted wild animal.

Before she knows what she is doing, Sabetha takes two steps towards the dwarves and murmurs quietly, "I can help."

She seems to wince then, shaking her head slightly as if at her own folly, but stands steady.  She attempts a smile at the dwarves and at the harengon and human that have spoken before her.

Elk Running woke that morning, yet again, to the voice, that constant, soft, maddening voice.  It seemed to follow her, haunting her rest and her rigor, since the day she had awoken on midwinter.  Had the song been the waker? Had… she… called out to Elk Running as she was enclosed in her slumbering tomb?   The thoughts had nagged at her as badly as the singing, until she thought they might drive her mad.

But, the blissful embrace of insanity had not come.  At least, not yet.  Instead, Elk Running had found a home here in the far north, among the folk of Ten-Towns and the tribes of Reghed.

Waking, she purposefully gathers her camping gear, reflecting on each action deliberately taken, to distract herself from the song, and makes her way onward toward town.

Her mood, as the day draws on, becomes as blistering as the west wind.  What she had found in the snow the day before, what had happened to that poor human…  She clenches her fists, her frost-covered hair and eyelashes revealing not even an inkling of the boiling fury roiling inside of her.

…She exhales.  It would not do to reveal her anger toward Bryn Shander, not if she is truly to get to the bottom of it. 

All is not well.  Something is amiss in this land, and she aims to find out what.

In the tavern, she settles down to a nice mug of ale and some stew, listening intently to the conversations around her, in case one might give her a clue as to unusual happenings.  Alas, there is naught to discover except a post for needed work.  Living alone in the wilderness, she hasn’t great need for coin, as most of her purchases are made in barter of meat and hide.  Yet, the work would give her an opportunity to investigate…

At that moment, the disheveled dwarves make known their plea for help.  She watches silently as the Harengon, human, and half-elf eagerly volunteer.  That in itself seems unusual, as the natives appear none too eager.

Drawing herself easily to her feet, she steps forward, as silently as a hare on the snow.  Those present observe a tall, lithe elven woman, whose pale skin is flushed from the cold.  Cyan hair, tinged with frost even in the warmth of the inn, cascades down her back, like a frozen waterfall.  Dark eyes, unfathomable in the firelight, peer across the room, seeming to soak in everything, and nothing. 

“I am called Elk Running.  Need you aid in ways of labor, I am able.”

Her accent and speech pattern are archaic, plucked from time or place beyond knowing. 

The relatively massive form of a Goliath has secured a small table all to himself. Mostly out of necessity, as he's just finished his second bowl of stew, and about to order another when the dwarves arrive. He takes a moment to squint at them, before following the others that have already gathered around them. "Are you them Blackirons? I heard you lot went and lost some metal, and thought I could help you. You see, I'm Uthal the Yetiterror, of clan Thuunlakalaga. I'm sure you've heard of me, yes?" he bellows. Close up and no longer sitting, the Goliath is an even more imposing sight. His head is hanging at least around the 7.5 feet mark, maybe higher. He's fitted in chain mail, and most prominently carries a great sword. He is bald, blue eyed, and his gray skin is mottled with the dark patches characteristic to his kind.

Blackberry whistles and says "Wow, that's a great sword!"

Sabetha schools herself not to stare at the two additional newcomers.  She remembers what her mentors in both the High Forest and in Waterdeep had told her.

We have two ears and two eyes, but only one mouth.  Use them in proportion.

Trying to quell the anxiety that has been her ever-present companion since Waterdeep, she watches and listens, adjusting the coil of rope tied at the exterior of her backpack, then schooling her hands to be still at her sides.  The harengon and the mysterious hatted man are interesting enough, and the hulking goliath warrior is impressive indeed.  But her fascination, which she tries to hide, is with the Winter Eladrin.  She has never met such a one before.  She brings herself back to the moment with some effort.

Lost some metal, the goliath had said.  Why is it always about metal with dwarves?

She asks them:  "Did someone steal from you?"

Intro

 
A 4'4" dwarf with black hair and steel blue eyes wearing fur-lined chainmail, a horned helm, a warhammer strapped to his back, and a shield with a faded emblem of a foaming tankard approaches.

Feature: Respect of the Stout Folk

In Dwarvish -

 Bolvark looks at the others gathered around and continues in Common, "Hruna. Korux. Storn. What are ye three upto being away from Kelvin's Cairn? And what's this talk about troubles?".

All three dwarves greet Bolvark like a long-lost cousin. They murmur to one another in Dwarvish for a moment, clearly filling Bolvark in on the circumstances of their trouble. You all look at each other as Bolvark occasionally exclaims, "A yeti!...Not Oobok" and then, after a moment, Bolvark tells them a tale and Hruna exclaims "Garn wouldn't!" and Storn shakes his head, muttering, "T'was the wyrm!" It is a bit like they have forgotten you are there or that they are in an inn, or both. The human among you clears his throat and Hruna looks up, suddenly realizing where she is. She gets a cagey look and says, "Thank you for your offer of aid. Let's go somewhere more private."

Hruna leads you into the night, where the wind is blowing fiercely and all of you feel a shiver, even in a town protected by high walls. Traveling a block, Hruna and the two dwarves who came with her turn to the left and enter a home. You follow them into a spare home, with bedrolls spread out on the floor and the dying embers of a fire in the hearth. Two doors lead further into the house, but Hruna stops here and talks to you.

"We're the survivors of a group of dwarves tasked with delivering a sled of iron ingots to Bryn Shander. A yeti surprised us and killed a member of our group. The rest of us fled as the yeti tore Oobok limb from limb." She stops for a moment, almost overcome by emotion. "Now we need someone to go back and get the sled for us and Oobok's remains, if there are any. We'd go ourselves, but, as you can see, we brought little gear with us and we were ravaged by the wind and cold on our way here. We're paying for the herbalist Halla and Mishann from the Shrine to treat us, so don't you worry about that. Speaking of payment, we offer each of you a gemstone worth 50 gold pieces. The friendship of the dwarves of Icewind Dale can also be a boon in these harsh times. You'll likely want snowshoes to make the trip in good time. Overland, even with the shoes, it's likely to take a day or more. It would be quicker to take the road to Termalaine until you must leave it to get to the Dwarven valley. We were ambushed near one of the hillocks that watch that way. Taking the road, you should be able to get there and back in a day, albeit a long one. I've got the spot marked on this map, if you care to make a copy. We need that load delivered to Garn Blackiron as soon as possible." She looks at Bolvark for a moment. "The honor of our tribe is at stake. So, what say ye?"

The X on the map is just south of the "E" in Termalaine

Elk Running stands quietly as the dwarf folk speak together.  A meeting of kin is a joyous event.

At the thought, a sudden sadness overtakes her.  She allows it to pass, as all things do. 

Her goal is to remain in Bryn Shander.  To discover what fate befell the old beggar in the snow.  A yeti she is near certain it was not.  What good does it do to return to the wilderness, when the answers she seeks are here?

Honor.  Now that she understands.  Honor is… Well, honor is everything. 

“I accept,” she declares without hesitation.  “The honor of your tribe shall yet be quickened while breath I have to take.  The last of it, let the winds take, if it be my wyrd.”

Aubin fidgets with his ring on his his index finger as the dwarves talk. He grimaces once back into the cold and follows Hruna. He mentally dismissed the gem payment as unimportant for he is focused on finding his quarry. Aubin perks up when Hruna mentioned the friendship of the dwarves. Yes locals who has some influence and can act as extra pair of eyes and ears.

In a serious tone Aubin states "I will accept this task, but in return I need your clan to assist me in finding Vaelish Gant."

I need all the friends I can get, why not the dwarves Sabetha thinks sadly.

She has a sudden moment of alarm when the mysterious man in the hat tells the dwarves that he's trying to find someone, but is quickly relieved to hear that it's not her.  She's never heard of Valish Gant.  But if the dwarves are a close-knit bunch, as they seem to be, then perhaps there's a chance...

"I am sorry for the loss of your friend.  I too, accept," she adds quietly, "and I too, seek information from you or your dwarven kinfolk when we return."

Sabetha does not volunteer her name, unless asked (just as the others haven't, she notices).

"Iron ingots? Coming here? Oh, is there a smithy here? I had no idea, I'd love to see it.  Well of course I will help retrieve the shipment, we can't have all that iron just rusting away in the wilderness, that would be a terrible waste.  Just think of all the wonderful things that could be made from that malleable metal.  I accept your offer!  Blackberry of Clan... er... Clan... um of a really well-known and nearby clan that I can't remember the name of just now, but in a totally non-suspicious way.  At your service."  Here, the harengon bows low with a nervous laugh.

Uthal chuckles at the bunnyman's awe at his weapon, as well as the Dwarves obvious shyness when faced with a legend like himself. He gives them the time to gather themselves, and follows them on the brisk walk through the refreshing outside air to their lodgings when they are ready. After hearing their tale, he replies: "Ho ho, that's quite the story! Worry not, you have come to the right person. No Yeti will dare bother us with I there! And if they do, they are sure to learn their error fast." 

Blackberry looks up at Uthal in wonder. "They won't bother us? Is it because of the smell?  I mean, I don't think it's that bad, but maybe it repels Yetis?  Do they have really sensitive noses, is that why they would learn so fast? You know, that would be an interesting invention, to create a Yeti repellant that could be sprayed on.  Do Goliaths have scent glands?"

So, others are in search of truths.  Elk Running casts her gaze to the unnamed man in the hat and cloak (Aubin).  Her brow crinkles.  "You seek someone lost in the snows?  Speak of Vaelish, if you will."

Aubun turns and looks at Elk "Perhaps not lost, but hidden. Vaelish tried and failed to stage a coup here in Bryn Shandar some years back. Recently a client of mine tasked me to find him. I tried to get answers at the Speakers palace, but I was sent away. My name is Aubin Honormore" He looks around and sighs "I hail from Neverwinter." 

All the dwarves exchange glances. Hruna says, "Aye, Gant made a play for the position of speaker here in Bryn Shander, years back. Bad business that. He was one of those wizards from the Arcane Brotherhood. I don't trust them at all. After the trial he did sort of vanish. I assumed Speaker Shane had him killed. Good riddance to bad rubbish. But you'll probably need to talk to her or to the Sheriff, Markham Southwell, to get the full story. If you like, we could make an introduction after you''ve returned."

Bolvark indicates his desire to accept the quest as well, introducing himself as Bolvark Brawnhammer.

Blackberry can't help giggling.  "You hail from a place called... 'Neverwinter'? Well, your fortunes have certainly reversed, haven't they?"