The Forgotten Realms

The world of the Forgotten Realms is one of high fantasy, populated by elves, dwarves, halflings, humans, and other folk. In the Realms, knights dare the crypts of the fallen dwarf kings of Delzoun, seeking glory and treasure. Rogues prowl the dark alleyways of teeming cities such as Neverwinter and Baldur’s Gate. Clerics in the service of gods wield mace and spell, questing against the terrifying powers that threaten the land. Wizards plunder the ruins of the fallen Netherese empire, delving into secrets too dark for the light of day. Bards sing of kings, queens, heroes, and tyrants who died long ago.

On the roads and rivers of the Realms travel minstrels and peddlers, merchants and guards, soldiers and sailors. Steel-hearted adventurers from backcountry farmsteads and sleepy villages follow tales of strange, glorious, faraway places. Good maps and clear trails can take even an inexperienced youth with dreams of glory far across the world, but these paths are never safe. Fell magic and deadly monsters are the perils one faces when traveling in the Realms. Even farms and freeholds within a day’s walk of a city can fall prey to monsters, and no place is safe from the sudden wrath of a dragon.

Map of the Sword Coast

The map below shows a region of the Forgotten Realms called the Sword Coast. This is a place of adventure, where daring souls delve into ancient strongholds and explore the ruins of long-lost kingdoms. Amid a lawless wilderness of jagged, snow-capped peaks, alpine forests, bitter winds, and roaming monsters, the coast holds such great bastions of civilization as the city of Neverwinter, in the shadow of the fuming volcano known as Mount Hotenow.

Neverwinter

This city was badly damaged when Mount Hotenow erupted some fifty years ago. Now, the City of Skilled Hands works to rebuild under the watchful eye of its Lord Protector, Dagult Neverember, who rules in the absence of an heir to Neverwinter’s crown. At present, no legitimate heirs to the old Alagondar royal line are known to exist, and many believe that the line is ended. Lord Neverember, taking no chances, quietly pays off or disposes of anyone claiming a connection to the rulers of old.

High Road

This highway hugs the coast, connecting Neverwinter to the coastal cities of Luskan to the north and Waterdeep to the south. For years, the stretch of road south of Neverwinter fell into disuse because of frequent monster attacks. Of late, efforts have been made to keep the road safe, with light patrols of guards on horseback moving between Neverwinter and Leilon.

Triboar Trail

This path south of Neverwinter Wood is the safest route between Neverwinter and the town of Triboar, located in the Dessarin Valley to the east (off the map). The trail is not patrolled, and monster attacks are commonplace.

Sword Mountains

These steep, craggy, snow-capped mountains are home to scattered tribes of orcs as well as other monsters. Icespire Peak is the tallest among them. Their foothills are strewn with the ruins of bygone kingdoms, and more than a few half-forgotten dungeons and tombs.

Kryptgarden Forest

This ancient forest tucked behind the Sword Mountains contains the ruins of bygone dwarven civilizations.

Mere of Dead Men

Travelers on the High Road, which skirts the mere to the east, must resist being lured into this cold and desolate swamp by bobbing will-o’-wisps. Countless adventurers have perished in the mere, drawn by tales of ruined castles half-sunk in the mire.

Welcome to Phandalin

The frontier town of Phandalin is built on the ruins of a much older settlement. Hundreds of years ago, the old Phandalin was a thriving human town whose people were firmly allied with neighboring dwarves and gnomes. Then an orc horde swept through the area and laid waste to the settlement, and Phandalin was abandoned for centuries.

In the last three or four years, settlers from the cities of Neverwinter and Waterdeep have begun the hard work of reclaiming the ruins of Phandalin. The new settlement is home now to farmers, woodcutters, fur traders, and prospectors drawn by stories of gold and platinum in the foothills of the Sword Mountains. The return of a white dragon threatens to destroy all that they’ve worked to rebuild.

Map of Phandalin

Stonehill Inn

This modest, two-story roadhouse has six rooms for rent on the upper floor. A bed for the night costs 5 sp, while a meal costs 1 sp. The proprietor is a short, friendly male human named Toblen Stonehill. Toblen is a native of the town of Triboar to the east. He came to Phandalin to prospect, but soon realized that he knew a lot more about running an inn than he did about mining.

Barthen’s Provisions

The shelves of this general store stock most ordinary goods and supplies, including backpacks, bedrolls, rope, and rations. Barthen’s doesn’t stock weapons or armor, but characters can purchase other adventuring gear here, with the exception of items that cost more than 25 gp. The proprietor, Elmar Barthen, is a lean and balding human man of fifty years. He employs a couple of young clerks (Ander and Thistle) who help load and unload wagons.

Lionshield Coster

This building is owned by the Lionshields, a merchant company based in the city of Yartar over a hundred miles to the east. The company ships finished goods to Phandalin and other small settlements throughout the region.

The master of the Phandalin post is a sharp-tongued human woman of thirty-five named Linene Graywind. Linene keeps a supply of armor and weapons, all of which are for sale to interested buyers.

Phandalin Miner’s Exchange

Miners come here to have their valuable finds weighed, measured, and paid out. The exchange also serves as an unofficial records office, registering claims to various streams and excavations around the area. Enough wealth is hidden in the nearby streams and valleys to support a good number of independent prospectors.

The exchange is a great place to meet people who spend a lot of time out and about in the countryside surrounding Phandalin. The guildmaster is a calculating human woman named Halia Thornton.

Shrine of Luck

Phandalin’s only temple is a shrine made of stones taken from the nearby ruins. It is dedicated to Tymora (goddess of luck and good fortune) and is normally in the care of a zealous elf acolyte named Sister Garaele.

Townmaster’s Hall

The townmaster’s hall has sturdy stone walls, a pitched wooden roof, and a bell tower at the back. The job board next to the front door features a sparse number of notices, all written in Common and in the same hand. All the notices on the job board are written by Harbin Wester, Phandalin’s duly appointed townmaster. Harbin is a pompous, middle-aged banker who lives in a house east of the Townmaster’s Hall. 

 Dragon of Icespire Peak - The Return of the White Dragon

The adventure begins...

Nestled in the rocky foothills of the snow-capped Sword Mountains is the mining town of Phandalin, which consists of forty or fifty simple log buildings. Crumbling stone ruins surround the newer houses and shops, showing how this must have been a much larger town in centuries past.

Phandalin’s residents are quiet, hard-working folk who came from distant cities to eke out a life amid the harsh wilderness. They are farmers, stonecutters, blacksmiths, traders, prospectors, and children. The town has no walls and no garrison, but most of the adults keep weapons within easy reach in case the need for arms should arise.

The Stonehill Inn at the center of town offers modest lodging and meals. Visitors are welcome here, particularly if they have coin to spend or news to share. Rumours have been stirring about. Whispers. After a hiatus of many tenday, the white dragon has returned. Said to be scarred with axes embedded into it's back.

The sun was playing a game with the clouds today...spending most of its time tucked behind the large dark masses as the drifted slowly across the sky. Occasionally it would peak out from through a gap and a momentary burst of bright light would flood the land..****y to quickly vanish again leaving the world feeling all the more dark for it. As such a wave of golden light appeared over Phandalin, it caught the flash of movement as it found a coin, in mid-air, spinning and flashing. The sudden flash momentarily blinded the man who'd been preparing to catch it in an open palm and the coin tumbled off the edge of his hand and landed with a splat in some muck.  The sun vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind the shadowed face of man who looked well and truly disgusted with his lot in life. 

Mr.Dark was sitting on a short stool with his back to a log wall of the Stonehill Inn.  His cloak was pulled up and over his head leaving his face in shadow. With a grimace he bent down and plucked the coin out of the muck, and began cleaning it off. He glared across the street to the Shrine of Tymora and then, speaking to himself, muttered, "Ya ya ya, I get it, I get it. I came back. You made your point." 

A woman pulling a child behind her frowned at him as she walked past, then shook her head, speeding up, clearly not thinking much of this muddy, shady looking fellow talking to himself on the side of the street. 

He continued chatting to himself, "Fine, fine, fine, in or out. Your choice. Heads I go inside the tavern, tails I stay here."  He flicked the coin spinning into the air. A brief scream distracted him and he missed the coin which landed on a dry part of the road and promptly rolled under the decking of the Inn. He glanced over at where the noise had come from, seeing a woman receiving a gift from a man and smiling broadly.  He cursed, and got off his stool and onto his hands and knees and began reaching around under the wooden planks for his coin...swearing to himself.

An unsightly figure stumbles through the streets of Phandalin. Thick stubble grows patchily on the gaunt face. Behind the matted shoulder-length blonde hair, which is randomly punctuated with dry twigs and leaves, sunken eyes dart from building to building like a morning wren. The gold-trimmed scarlet clothes and satin leggings still show signs of their former finery, but their present filth is exceeded only by the stench of a long-unwashed body. And not even the mid-morning sunlight can conjure any lustre from the steel shield on his back, which is thick with forest grime.

Disoriented and unsteady, the pathetic individual almost passes right by the Stonehill Inn before a firm hand grabs him by the shoulder and steers him toward the door...

Auric:

Unable to find another group to adventure with him in pursuit of the white dragon they had driven off to the north, Auric had bided his time investigating the more minor tasks posted on the job board, though he does check periodically at the Stone Hill inn to see if anyone has bitten on his own ambitious job posting.  Admittedly, "Intrepid adventurers sought to slay evil dragons most foul" may not attract those who treasure their own survival, but he thought it was worth a shot.

This was one of those days.  Coming from the job board, Auric heads once more to his favorite table at the inn to review what opportunities there were for him to gain the experience and funding needed to once again take the fight to the white dragon who had, so far, eluded him.  His orb glows softly on the table illuminates a rather thick book, in which he takes notes and draws maps...It seems over the past month his efforts have gone in a more scholarly direction.  Focused on his notes, he does not notice anyone in particular enter the inn.

"Ahhhhhh, got it!" says Mr.Dark in victory, as he lays, splayed out on the ground, his arm fully extended under the boardwalk in front of the Stonehill Inn.  As his hand closes around the coin, he sniffs the air....which has suddenly taken on a foul aspect.  He glances under the decking....perhaps a dead rat?  Behind him, a couple people enter the Inn, unnoticed. He sits up, his coin retrieved, and looks around outside the Inn seeing nothing awry.  A gentle wind pulls the bad smell from the air. Mr. Dark briefly sniffs his own armpit before shrugging it off and once again pulling himself over onto the stool, his back against the wall.  He glares across the street at the temple of Tymora, looking to be in quite a mood. 

A topaz dragonborn entered the tavern and looked around. The promise of killing a dragon had brought him here in search of glory and he wasn't assuming that he was the only one. Surely there had to be other would-be dragonslayers here and odds are that they'd be the type that you can tell by looking at them.

Darron trudges down the main road of the town with the dirty and bedraggled young man, tired and exhausted. Even the usually comforting mid-morning sunlight isn't enough to lift his spirits today. He curses under his breath as the man starts to topple over for the millionth time and goes to steady him again, getting another big whiff of a stench strong enough to kill gods. What did he ever do to anger the gods? This goes way outside his usual obligations. Giving helpful directions to travellers isn't too uncommon, but babysitting washed-out losers and dragging them back to town is definitely a RARE occurrence. Some passersby notice him trod by and give him a wave. He gives a tired smile and waves back. It had only been a day or two since he was last in town. He's usually out for a week or so at a time, but due to the... extenuating circumstances, he's back much earlier than he expected or wanted. Which is irritating to say the least, but he obviously couldn't just leave this pitiful chap to die.

They finally reach the tavern and Darron breathes a sigh of relief. Thank the gods. Darron pulls the young man over, as he had seemingly forgotten where the tavern was and guides him to the door. He steps past the figure crouched around the decking of the tavern, giving him a brief glance before sighing and walking on. Dealing with one weirdo is enough for today. He pushes the door to the tavern open and hurriedly drags his ward over to the innkeeper, trying to ignore all the patrons' horrified stares as the putrid smell starts to fill the room. Throwing his hood back, Darron quickly attracts the attention of the innkeeper, which isnt hard due to the growing muttering around the room.

"Hey Toblen, I've got a bit of an emergency here. Sorry for the short notice, but can you prepare a room and a meal for this chap here? And a bath too, gods know he needs it. Put it on my tab for now."

Leaving the young man in the care of the innkeeper, Darron sets himself down on one of the barstools, continuing his account.

"I was out patrolling when I saw him stumbling around the forest. He looked like he'd been lost out there for at least two weeks. Do you know the guy? I assumed from his complete lack of any equipment that he must've left it here before going out into the forest, but he's quite delirious so I couldn't get a straight answer. Kept muttering about some 'twelve-step skincare routine', whatever that is."

After being stepped over by multiple travelers, new and old, Mr. Dark eventually picks himself up off the ground. This time as he settles on his stool to glare across the street in his mood, he's met with familiar eyes. He's being stared back at. By a crow. Which has yet to blink.

Inside Stonehill Inn, the establishment was fairly tame at this time. However, with the sun playing peek-a-boo with the clouds there are whispers of a storm a foot. And with poor weather comes thirsty travelers eager for shelter. Fully staffed with his cook in the back and barmaid tending the tables, Toblen stood behind the counter, cleaning a mug with a cloth ready to greet. He wore a charming grin as he watched patrons enter his establishment, especially at the sight of the topaz dragonborn. A familiar face he was sure of it!

Then everyone smelt it. It was as if someone dealt it.

Toblen's smile wavered, as did his stomach. His attention was drawn away. "Sir Darron," Was all Toblen managed to say before he registered he could taste the stench coming from the man he was approaching his counter with. "Another stray?" He politely stifles a gag before moving to shield his mouth and nose with his rag. He should probably have it washed too... "I think we may be able to arrange something..." The man raises an arm to flag down his barmaid to assist. "Two weeks?" He blurts in disbelief. It smelled longer. Then at Darron's prompt, Toblen narrows his eyes and dares to take a closer look. His kind blue eyes begin to water, stringing as if he had cut onions. "My stars..." He blinks in disbelief, and to shield his vision. "It couldn't be..." Toblen pulls out his log book, then his glasses. Putting them on, he searches through the pages.

Meanwhile, since having walked into the tavern and taken a look around, the topaz dragonborn stood tall, proud and silent. Weapon of choice, a massive two handed maul, fit for a champion. His armour was gleaming, with not a speck of dust. Eyes scanning the establishment, they fall over a familiar face, of familiar colour. A golden dragonborn sits at a table. It was Auric with his glowing orb, softly illuminating a book in which he's taking notes as the redheaded barmaid makes their approach.

The barmaid moves with smooth quiet steps but fumbles frequently with their serving tray, and yet manages to still recover a falling glass without spilling a drop. Big brown eyes looked about as surprised as you were at the accomplishment. It was almost as if they were a doe learning to walk all over again. She was another stray. “Ta da?” She’d blurt prior to giving an apologetic smile before delivering the golden dragonborn his usual beverage and dipping away to return to Toblen. As she turns, one could notice that half of their head was shaven and a prominent scar cuts along the side to their temple.

"What it is Toblen?" The barmaid asks Toblen as she approaches, trying their best to hold their breath. He points to some notes in the log book, "Even I'd remember him!" She blurts. Then Toblen gestures to the man who's the source of the stench. It was plenty obvious that the man needed a bath but... Then at Toblen's prompt, the barmaid narrows their eyes and dares to take a closer look. Their big brown eyes begin to water, stringing as if she had cut onions. "My stars..."

"Hansel Moonflower, from Waterdeep!" Toblen and the barmaid exclaim at the same time. Oh, they remembered. Toblen then continues. "Master Hansel, we shall prepare our best room for you once again. As requested we will have a hot bath poured for you right away and some of our finest meals sent to your room." He hands the barmaid the key and directs them to lead the way. "Not to worry, as stated himself, this generous young man, Darron, will cover your tabs." The proprietor grins and makes some detailed notes in his log.

"This way. When you're ready." With a dimpled smile, the barmaid gestures to lead Hansel, towards the stairs that would lead to the hallway that'd take them to the room at the farthest end of the hall.

Auric:

What was that smell?  Auric absentmindedly waves his hand in the gesture of a minor spell and the unpleasant odor was replaced by the faint aroma of clear mountain air.  
Prestidigitation

As the barmaid approaches, Auric flinches and draws his journal back protectively, but she spills not a drop of his hot afternoon tea.  Nodding appreciatively and taking his first sip, Auric now watches the goings on in the inn attentively, hoping to see some worthy adventurers who might help him in his quest to destroy the evil chromatic dragons.

Ignorant of the reunion, such that it was, occurring inside the tavern...Mr. Dark scritched at his dirty pants along the inside of his thigh.  He absently wondered about flees as his eyes caught those of the raven across the street.  He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the dark bird, locking it into a staring contest....but before long his eyes started to feel dry and he blinked them clear.  The raven sat there.  His trigger finger flexed as he briefly considered taking a shot at the bird, but then waved his hand at the animal and said out loud, "Ahhh, you're not worth it!"  

A man walking past with a wheelbarrow of firewood stopped and looked at Mr.Dark, "Well, I say, you're not worth much either.  Good DAY!"  He picks up the handles of the cart and rolls it away in a foul mood. 

A "pfffft" sound comes from Mr.Dark at the departing towns person. He leans back against the wall of the Inn, flicking his coin into the air where it twirls majestically in an arc before landing back smoothly in Mr.Dark's gloved hand with a light slap.  He glances away from the crow and back at the small edifice built to Tymora. "She says stay...and so here I stay. Here I'll wait until Fate's pretty hand tells me to move."   The coin travels up into the air once more with a faint metallic chime that rings through street, that is felt more than heard. 

Auric:

Now that he is actually paying attention, Auric sees Xenophon standing nearby and begins to stand and address him.  In the middle of waving him over, the golden dragonborn hears a name from his recent past...Turning in shock as the name "Hansel Moonflower" echoes through the room, he looks that way and wrinkles his nose once more, inquiring, "Forsooth, it is indeed Master Moonflower betwixt layers of grime!  How came thee to such a disheveled state?" as he takes a few steps towards the forlorn man.

The grime-caked face of Hansel Moonflower slowly turns as his name is spoken aloud by Toblen and the barmaid, and dirt-blackened eyelids open wide, while the diligent Darron hears a somewhat-more-intelligible mumble from the delinquent dandy. "That's... me!"

Hansel stands there, staring less vacantly than before, as Toblen describes the impending hospitality, but as the bumbling barmaid extends an ushering arm, Hansel's gaze moves beyond her to the golden dragonborn rising from his seat. "I.. I know you!" Hansel's eyes widen further, and he pushes away from the rescuing ranger, past the girl's gentle gesture, and moves toward the nose-wrinkling patron with pungent arms outstretched.

"Those... glorious scales! ...Music... from your nose... Such beauty! AURIC? Oh, Auric, it IS you! I remember now! I remember everything! Oh, Sune, avert your gaze from me! What have I become?" His words become a rush, and rapidly turn to sobs of both shame and relief, as tears form streaks in the muck on his face. With a mixture of apology and gratitude, Hansel turns away from Auric and returns again toward those offering care and refreshment.

Hearing some sort of commotion from inside the tavern, which seems to result in some sort of miserable sobbing sounds, Mr.Dark glances annoyed at the door, then at the crow, then at Tymora's shrine.  "Ok, ok I get it."  He stands up, takes a look at the door, then turns and walks away, muttering to himself, "If you don't want me some place, you don't need to drive me away by making some poor sod cry. That's just mean."  As he walks away he flips his gold coin in the air, catching it smoothly on its way back down.  Well, he should probably find out whats goin on around here. He heads towards the Miners Exchange. The exchange is a great place to meet people who spend a lot of time out and about in the countryside surrounding Phandalin, so maybe he'll hear some rumors and, fate be good, Tymora's hand will guide him in the right direction.

Inside Stonehill Inn

Xenophon throughout the reunion happening in front of your eyes, you recognize the golden Dragonborn Auric, and surprisingly enough, the stench covered man identified as Hansel as well. These were the same individuals you fought beside in the dwarves excavation only a few tenday ago.

The red headed bartender stood by throughout the whole exchange with a polite smile. She’d side step a little closer to Auric’s aroma of fresh mountain air while she waits. When Hansel would turn back their way, she’d offer an arm like a gentlewoman ready to lead him down the hall to freshen up. “Ready Master Hansel?”

Outside Stonehill Inn

Each time Mr. Dark glanced away, the crow hopped, waddled or fluttered inches closer. And each time he went to look back, the crow was paused and unblinking. However, much more interested in his own conversations and self-amusement, Mr. Dark distracts himself from the bird. So with a chime and his ‘dime’, he meanders one way, then pivots the other and eventually finds his way in front of a building. It felt quite familiar. Looking up, the sign reads ‘Miner’s Exchange’. Yes. Just a few tenday ago he’s stood outside this building before, waiting for a beautiful man and golden Dragonborn to return from within. This was where they obtained their detailed map.

Perception Check
Roll Call: Mr. Dark!

Hansel's sobs subside somewhat as he allows himself to be led away, more aware now of himself and also of his fall from Sune's grace. He would need some time; not only to wash the hard-caked filth but also to perform the necessary rituals of penance that would hopefully restore him to the favour of Lady Firehair.

Mr.Dark's perception check: 18

Mr.Dark looks one more time at the crow, "Well, if you're going to be a creeper, you might as well just come with me."  As he walks away he glances back seeing if the bird chooses to follow him or not. 

He glances up at the Miner's exchange sign, remembering the events from just a short time ago. The encounter with the white dragon looms large in his mind and he can smell the scent of the shattered pine trees as the dragon's cold breath made them freeze and explode. He snaps clear of his reverie and pushes the door open to head inside....

Inside Stonehill Inn

The redheaded bartender leads the sobbing Hansel up the stairs and down the hall to his room where he is prepared a hot bath. Once settled and safe to be left on his own, she eventually returns to collect a meal, drink and dessert prepared by the chef before making their way back to the room to deliver the items.

While the reunion was short and sweet, Auric could feel at least some reassurance that Hansel should at least be somewhat back to himself once he completed all his multi step programs. At the very least, he'd smell better. Standing before him in the inn is a familiar topaz dragonborn. Auric remembers his name, Xenophon. And the dragonborn could have sworn her heard a familiar voice shouting amongst themself outside. Although he may not know the individual, it was worth recognizing the young man seated at the bar with Toblen for returning his companion to civilization.

After all this time, perhaps the strong adventurer's, new and old, Auric and Xenophon have been searching for all this time are returning to where it all began, here at the Stonehill Inn.

Toblen looks back up from his books to the young man seated at the bar. "Is there anything else I can assist you with this fine evening, Darron?"

Miner's Exchange

Just prior to entering the Miner's Exchange, when Mr. Dark glances back at the raven to invite it along, the bird was practically on his heels. "Whoop!" The raven hops, pivots and scurries away in a zigzag as if undecided of what direction to run off too, "Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! ....". There's a soft glint of light that appears to flicker off it's beak when the bird crosses through a brief ray of sun breaking through the clouds before dipping away out of sight in some brush.

The next time Mr. Dark goes to habitually flip his coin, he finds a bottle cap.

At first the area would appear empty to Mr. Dark as he enters the Miner's Exchange. From behind the counter a maiden in a long dark green gown would stand from reaching for something low. She'd turn around to look at you with an armful of scrolls held at her hip and glance down at you through elegant reading spectacles. With her free hand she'd pull them from her face, resting an arm of her glasses against her lip for a moment before hooking them on the front of her vneck. Looking him over, her expression drops to almost one of disappointment before correcting it.

"Good day. How may I help you?"

Auric:

"Well and providentially met, good Xenophon.  Come, let us tarry with this noble soul who rescued our sometime brother in arms," intones Auric as he nods at the dragonborn and moves to the bar.  

"Greetings, Darron.  I am called Auric, and this is my erstwhile and sometimes companion Xenophon.  Thou hast performed a service noble for one whom I regard with fond remembrance.  Pray thee, allow me to purchase thy sustenance for a modicum of thy tale," he says to the newcomer, pulling some coins out of his pouch with a smile.

Mr.Dark meets the woman disappointed look with a brief but knowing smile. She'd gotten on quite well with Hansel if he remembered correctly.  Or maybe it was with the bronze dragon kin.  Oh, who could remember such things. He flips his coin..****y to find a bottle cap flying in the air.  He catches it with a stunned look, and glances up at the woman, "Son of a biscuit!"  Then he catches himself and gives the woman a half bow, "Oh, uh...yeah, pardon me. Do the crows here steal stuff often? Actually, don't answer that. Nevermind. Say....is there anything....going on around here..."  he vaguely waves his hands in the air "...this place, or, around, with maybe some groups of people who maybe need help or...."  he lets the lame question trail off into nothing before staring at her blankly, waiting for a miraculous answer to his verbal garbage.   He absently looks down at the bottlecap in his hand with a deep frown.

Xenophon nods at Auric and joins him in moving towards the bar. "Good to see all you gents again. How are things hangin?'" The Dragonborn says, offering his one-time cohorts a warm smile.