A caravan carrying essential materials for a divine ritual that aims to help the people of Bryn Shander stave off the brunt of the Rime of the Frostmaiden attempts to make it through the treacherous passes along the Spine of the World. However, suspicions fall upon the caravan members as some suspect it has been infiltrated by the Cult of Auril itself, threatening the ritual and the brave travelers that try to reach Ten-Towns with crucial supplies.
North of the Spine of the World and west of the towering Reghed Glacier is a frigid expanse few dare to explore, let alone inhabit. This icy land of windswept tundra recently became locked in a perpetual, dark winter without reprieve. Auril the Frostmaiden, the divine embodiment of winter's fury, has withdrawn to this cold corner of the world to live among mortals. Further, she has cast a terrible spell over Icewind Dale, to the detriment of most of its denizens.
Each night before midnight, Auril takes to the sky on the back of a white roc and weaves her spell, which manifests as a shimmering curtain of light—a beautiful aurora that illuminates the night sky and fades before dawn. This powerful magic prevents the next day's sun from rising above the horizon, turning midday into twilight and trapping Icewind Dale in winter's dark embrace, with no sunlight or warmth to melt the snow and ice. Each casting of the spell also further barricades the mountain passes with blizzards and churn the Sea of Moving Ice with blistering winds. Such measures discourage travelers from approaching or leaving Icewind Dale, further isolating the region. Icewind Dale has thus been trapped in a different reality from the rest of the world, for though the sun never rises over the dale, it continues to rise everywhere else.
The people of Icewind Dale know Auril's wrath when they feel it, and they have a name for the unending winter she has inflicted on them. They call it the Everlasting Rime. No one understands why the Frostmaiden has imposed her will in this way or why the other gods refuse to challenge her. This prolonged winter, which has gone on for more than two years, threatens to doom not just the flickering lights of civilization known as Ten-Towns but also the indigenous flora and fauna that need sunlight and the change of seasons to survive.
Saeni had joined her faction some months ago now, and under hurried circumstances to say the least, though that didn't stop them from handing her assignments, even ones that would have her completely out of her element. Having departed the much more desirable climate of the south, she had been on the road for tendays now, and ever the talkative lass, she made friends along her path—a way of making the slow and long journey less dull—most of them having departed towards other destinations, but one having strangely sticking through with her, a reserved and less communicative woman whose name she revealed only as Tragedy. Strangely sticking through other departing travelers, both soon guessed their shared destination, one most already avoid and even more so after recent news, Icewind Dale, for whatever reason. Sharing little of her reasons, Tragedy seemed only to be down on luck, and seemingly headed for one of the Ten-Towns, Lonelywood, for a fresh start.
Antoine was used to taking the Faraway Dreamer through the shores of the Sea of Moving Ice, capable of dodging the moving icebergs around easily—during the Summer, at least. The journey had become quite a bit more perilous as of late, he noted, as it was usual for the Sun to hide its face for months on end this up North, but it hadn't shown itself for more than a whole year, for Garl's sake! Nevertheless, the young gnome kept on coming back with supplies offer these hardy folk of Ten-Towns, people he guessed would have their reasons for sticking around. One day, Antoine was facing ever worsening weather conditions and was forced to bring his ship to the frozen shore, in the distance he witnessed another ship try their luck and maneuver around the icebergs, and with growing incredulity he saw them fail and get stuck in the ice. The temperatures grew so low and so fast that his own Faraway Dreamer became stuck in the icy shore, and through the following days—camped at the side of his ship and hoping for warmer weather—he watched in the distance as the other ship cracked and the crew was forced to jump out into the freezing sea to their deaths or face starvation inside the ship. The depressing scenes eventually took their toll into the gnome, as did the eventual lack of provisions. Forced to abandon his ship on a frozen shore, Antoine headed back to the road in hopes of finding help, maybe even back in Luskan. It was then that he found Ignazio's caravan, and lacking other options, joined their journey.
Rael had been travelling the Sword Coast for a while now, seeking job as a guard and participating in whatever archery competitions he was able to find—and even winning a few of them. Eventually his travels had him reach Luskan, City of Sails, where among the local merchants and pirates, he started making a name displaying his feats with the bow, bullseyeing both distant apples and bandits. It was not surprising when one certain caravan master named Ignazio approached the tiefling and asked for his services in a particular endeavor, to help guard the caravan through a perilous journey up North, through the dangerous Spine of the World and into the—some now say cursed—snow-covered Icewind Dale. The journey was bound to be dull, but the pay was good, and if his skillful presence made others more at ease for the journey, what's the worse that could happen?
To make it through the treacherous North-South in the Spine of the World mountains, all of you joined the caravan of Ignazio Gallo, a rotund Chondathan human caravan master that departed his trail of many wagons from Luskan some tendays ago. Either having joined the other travelers all the way back in Luskan or on the road, you've all witnessed as the caravan crossed the pass and narrowly dodged a deadly avalanche just as the pass was completely blocked off by snow. Whatever destiny you had in mind, your only option for survival seems to be following the caravan all the way to its destination, the largest of the Ten-Towns, Bryn Shander.
The journey through the dark cold is difficult and humorless, travelers mostly keeping to themselves and those whom they already know—which is hard to tell apart under so many layers of fur and gear. The chilling wind bites to the bone and almost deafens you, but some may imagine it is a relief from the sounds of the wilderness night around that you might hearing otherwise. These fears have been presented way before you joined the caravan, but a few days back the rumors spread around the wagons that someone in the caravan was an infiltrated cultist, a servant of the Frostmaiden herself, seeking to bring misfortune upon the travelers, maybe even offer their souls to Auril in sacrifice in some way. The travelers have been on edge, lack of sleeps dulls your senses and judgement, but no one has come to accusations. So far.
The caravan is composed of a total of eleven wagons, each carried by either two draft horses, an ox, or even a white axe beak. About thirty-something people accompany the wagons, most of them on foot, others driving their own wagons. What are you doing in the Frozenfar? What are you doing in the caravan? What brings you to this cursed land?
((The image below sets the tone nicely for the Spine of the World, it should be just a bit darker in this eternal night (some twilight should reach the skies for only about 2 to 4 hours a day around noon). All of you start with a free set of cold weather clothing along with your starting equipment. Also, since you are Tier 1 in Adventurers League, you also start with Inspiration (remember to call it before the roll) and a potion of healing. You may all post your character introductions, keeping in mind that most of you are covered in enough layers of clothing to keep even familiar faces from being recognized out in the cold (with some exceptions). Along with your first post, please roll a d20 to determine who, if anyone, among the caravan your character might have gotten to know along the journey. And welcome to Icewind Dale :) ))
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
D20: 9
Even in the biting cold of the north Rael seems to be in good spirits. His demonic heritage, very obvious in his deep red skin and long forward curving horns, just hidden beneath the thick furs of his cloak. He has caught quite a few of the others in the caravan eyeing him with suspicion. Each time he has simply smiled at them, enough to cause them to look away. Tensions have been running high since the rumor of infiltration started to spread thru the caravan and he is an obvious target, along with his fellow tieflingTragedy.
Keeping his eyes open, as is his duty guarding this caravan, he is peering off into the snow.
With nerves running high among the caravan members, Rael found no respite from the weather in the dour humor of those he approached along the journey, their reactions to him as cold as the climate around them. Aside from the caravan master who hired him, Ignazio Gallo, the tiefling found no one really in the mood to talk to him. In what little interactions they had, Ignazio commented briefly on his origins, having willingly parted from his noble Patriar family from Baldur's Gate as an outcast after a few inappropriate deals in his youth, in an effort to avoid further tarnishing their reputation. Though the matter seems to be resolved in his view, as he is able to even crack jokes about it. He also shares a few comments on the road itself at times "I cross the whole Ten Trail every year and every winter, and in not one of them it looked better than the last. Well, but the coins keep coming, no matter how hard it may be."
The snow picked up by the howling wind makes little of the road ahead visible, though the line of wagons, horses, and heavy avian beast seems to be able to follow it nonetheless, maybe out of sheer experience. The ups and downs of the Spine of the World grow rather weary after a time, and the quick stops for rest on way stations—which are little more than rocky outcroppings with firepit leftovers or ruined columns of past kingdoms jutting out of the white terrain—not nearly enough to make the journey any easier.
Antoine shivers within his fur cloak, utterly miserable. His pride and joy, his fabulous Faraway Dreamer, had been stuck in the ice. Stuck in the ice! And now, he's stuck too. Practically trapped in the frozen north. The best thing to do was to get to town, better, at least, than being lost in the harsh, snowy wilderness. The small gnome shivers again, staring up towards the bleak, unyielding sky where the sun should have been. No sun, all grey, and snowy, and grim. Antoine sighs. He's used to being here in the summer. In fact, he'd never been this far north during this part of the year before. If he hadn't volunteered to deliver a shipment of supplies for a friend, none of this would have ever happened.
He looks around at the others in the caravan. There'd been rumors of some sort of cultist infiltration, but he wasn't exactly sure what that was all about. He peers, attempting not to be overt, at the other faces around him. Could one of them, somehow, be the traitor?
The news that the pass South had been blocked after the caravan passed stuck the gnome hard, and Antoine has been rather down in his mood the last few days, which didn't help much in his spirits in the matters of finding conversation and sharing stories—something he might have been more than prone to otherwise.
Even though you commit yourself to identifying the true colors behind the other caravan members, the poor visibility conditions and the general humorless mood of the others makes the task rather difficult. You take your time in observation, and are able to analyze a few of the others superficially. Taking a rough estimate among the various other travelers, you identify a few commoner servants, some caravan guards, a few adventurers (professional or not), at least two divine acolytes, two scholars, two nobles, and at least four other travelers you couldn't really get a measure of.
Interpreted your Insight as an estimate of the others in the whole caravan. It was a good roll, but spread over a lot of range. Let me know if you plan to further observe any of these.
Antoine attempts to watch the adventurers more closely, to make out through their thick winter gear what they look like and if they appear trustworthy.
Saeni has been travelling with the caravan for some time now. Due to her smaller stature, she preferred traveling on board of on of the many wagons of the caravan. When the roads became less hospitable, due to the snow and bad weather, Saeni's cheerful demeanor, and her mandolin helped to make the nights a bit less gloomy.
Have you heard the news, Mr Paws? Whispers Saeni to her pet ferret. They say there might be some cultists hiding among us. I hope it is not you Mr. Paws. Says she and start to laught.
Saeni was able to secure a spot at the side of the driver's seat of Danai Ndidi's wagon, a young scholar of Chultan descent, accompanied by three other friendly Chultan commoner servants serving her. The young lass is able to go on endlessly about exploration of old and forgotten places, she claims to be an "explorer, archeologist, anthropologist" and a bunch other -ers and -ists you simply forgot about. She seems rather interested in a local mountain called Kelvin's Cairn, claiming she is about to meet a dwarf named Baellac Hammerstone in order to gather up an expedition to brave the place. She claims to work for a certain Merchant Prince named Wakanga O'tamu, who's sponsoring her journey in the hopes she brings back magical artifacts he might be able to barter with interested clientele. At times when conversation died down, you sometimes caught a glimpse of Danai's face turning mellancholic for some reason, staring off at another of the wagons with some measure resentment, though she doesn't comment on it.
You can't help but think what sort of expedition would be able to survive such inclement weather. Mr. Paws seems to happily fidget at your brief interaction, before briefly showing a distinctively cultist-ey look for but a moment, then returning to its normal self. Saeni plays a single dissonant and stares wide-eyed at the ferret for a moment, which just seems to be happily hopping about her gear—probably just her imagination.
Focused in careful observation of his recent traveling companions, Antoine is able to take measure of some of them:
Focusing on those you'd feel would be able to differentiate themselves from the more common lot of merchants and guards, you are able to take account of some.
The two tieflings certainly stand out in the caravan, being a rather uncommon race. One keeps mostly to herself and seems on a rather dour mood, having some mannerism that seem somewhat out of place for some reason, and she seems particularly observant of others, catching you staring at her sometimes. The other is one of the guards, but his skill and pride certainly set him apart from them, carrying a bow instead of the regular spear and though you never saw him shoot an arrow, you can guess he is one of superior skill.
Joined the first female tiefling you see a female halfling with a ferret pet that sometimes takes out a mandolin to lighten up the mood with some tunes. She seems to closely guard something on the inside of her clothes, close to the chest, though it's impossible to see what it would be.
You are also able to observe in the back of the caravan a pair of male humans that display a particular affection to one another, you clearly heard one of them referring to the other as "husband" when trying to catch something out of other's conversations. They mostly keep to the back of the caravan warily eyeing the others.
Antoine moves across the caravan to the halfling with the ferret. She seems innocent enough, thinks Antoine, and she's small like me. When he reaches her, he sits down next to her. "Hi! My name's Antoine. My ship was trapped in the ice near here, so I hitched a ride to Bryn Shander. Seemed safer than staying out here. I like your ferret, by the way. And you? How did you end up on this caravan?"
Oh, hello I am Saeni and this here is Mr. Paws. Introduces herself Saeni while Mr. Paws continues to attack one of the really annoying sacks back in the wagon. You have a ship? That's fascinating. Is it large ship? You must have seen so many interesting places then. Tell me everything. Have you been to Chult? They say there are those huge lizards there, have you seen them? And, what about that Elvish Island, Evermeet they call it have you been there?
"Yes, I do have a ship,"smiles Antoine."She's called the Faraway Dreamer, and, yeah, quite large. I usually ferry supplies from down near Waterdeep up to these regions, but I've been known to make the occasional detour to more... exotic climes. Unfortunately, I've never been to Chult -- wish I had, sounds amazing -- but I have delivered supplies to Evermeet. 'Course, I just delivered the supplies across ships, they wouldn't let me onto the island proper, but, well..."he trails off. He's trying not to sound conceited, but it might not be working.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
D20: 2
Tragedy sits on the side of one of the wagons, hood pulled low to hide her face. She has heard the rumors of the Frostmaiden's servant and easily notices the glances towards her, shrinking back at most of them but maintaining eye contact with the ones who seem overly curious, like the gnome, until they look away. Why did I even come on this blasted trip? she thinks, grumbling to herself and hugging her lyre closer to her chest to keep it warm. Her talkative halfling companion, Saeni, had played the mandolin every now and then, but she withheld from contributing to the music. Tragedy had considered it, but there were no opportunities to make money from it at the moment, and the icy weather would not be kind to the strings. Hopefully, once they reached the Ten-Towns, better opportunities would present themselves.
Back before even reaching Luskan and joining this caravan, Tragedy had the displeasure of meeting one road companion that still lingers around to this day. At first the strong, bald, rough-on-the-edges pale man looked like a similar history from what he shared, also headed to Lonelywood, also running from trouble. Though that gruff exterior proved not merely a façade, for this Cornelius was really a rugged ruffian, and took every opportunity to display his cruelty, violence, and foul mood. You even witnessed him participating in a drunken brawl back in Luskan, one that left more than one tavern patrons outside bleeding in the cold mud. He usually regards others with remarks such as "Off my way, filth." or "I don’t owe you a shard of bloodstone for you to be questioning me about, get lost!" and it just makes it seem that the foul weather around is particularly able to get to him. All of it really makes you wonder why has he shared anything with you at all, though you clearly remember a spark of comradery come over his features when Lonelywood was mentioned... not sure why.
Days go by uneasily on the road, and though tensions run high, they are more or less the same, too much snow and too little comfort. The caravan expects to reach Bryn Shander three days from now or the day after that, it's hard to measure distances and time through this constant fog and lack of sunlight. As the caravan master announces the one-hour stop for lunch and for the beasts to rest in whatever twilight makes up highsun now, the wagons settle against a rocky outcropping for some wind break, and groups gather up to light up fires and thaw their soups.
You all happen to gather up with some familiar, if somewhat cold, faces of the last days on the road, circling around a small campfire to warm up both joints and food. Among the others in your circle you see a middle-aged priestess dressed in red garments, you notice as she looks your way but hesitates and looks away, then again as something inside her seems to build up courage, then she finally approaches your group. As she approaches you are able to see her tired demeanor and darkened circles around her eyes, she motions for you to gather close and whispers “Blessings of the Morninglord upon you, fellow travelers. I- I beg your pardon, but you have the look of adventurers about you." she awkwardly points towards all the gear you've been carrying, "Please, don't get me wrong, I'm a retired adventurer myself. I am Mithann, devout servant of the Glory of Dawn, our bright lord Sun. If you would but listen, I have a few words to share, ones that I held in secrecy for days, but now I fear they’re far beyond just that.” the priestess seems in turmoil, and looks around to see if anyone else is listening in, but the howling wind seems to take enough account of that, "Listen, I need help. I carry important materials with me, crucial for the survival of the people of Ten-Towns, but it seems that those that work against me are closer and know more than I anticipated. You surely heard the rumors of cultists infiltrated among us, right?"
Rael listens to the woman words, never stoping eating his meal. "Greetings dear lady. I've have heard such things. Cant say I hold much stock in the rumors myself" quickly glancing at the others gathered here.
Mithann stares at Rael for a moment, wide-eyed and shaking her head in resignation, "I wish they were just rumors, friend." she takes a deep breath and a few moments to build up courage before continuing, her eyes darting around at the other travelers in the distance before trailing towards the campfire, "A few days ago, I went to sleep by one of the wagons, hugging my precious materials bag close. Deep in the night I was awaken by a shuffling sound nearby, and in the darkness I saw figures sneaking in the nearby shadows." she looks back at you, "My sleepy blurred vision wasn't able to discern details, but I'm sure those were the very rumors we discuss now." she pauses for a moment, taking in a spoonful of soup, her hands shaking slightly, "I've questioned the guards the day after, no one got in or out of the caravan encampment that night or any other since. They're here with us. The servants of the Frostmaiden are here."
The priestess spends a few moments in silence as she lets the information sink in, eating a bit more of her soup, "I've approached you for a reason, I think you can help out. I would ask you to judge the characters of our fellow travelers over the rest of the day, poke around them a bit, ask questions, see what you find out, find out who may our suspicions fall upon. Anything you discover will be invaluable for the people of Ten-Towns." she grabs Rael's hand firmly and stares with pleading eyes, "I trust that you can help me in this discreetly. What do you say?"
Oh, that is terrible news. Can you tell us what exactly are these supplies? Did the thief actually managed to steal anything or have you woken soon enough to stop them? Anything you remember about the thief would be helpful too. Even if you don't know any details any general information might help. Were they tall or short, thin or thick? We will do our best to aid you, won't we Mr. Paws? Says Saeni, and gives her pet a piece of meat form her soup.
"Of course we can help you discreetly," Tragedy says, speaking quietly between bites of the meal. She looks around to get an idea of how many other travellers there are with the caravan."Indeed, as Saeni has asked though, what are these precious materials?"
Mithann hesitates for a moment, but grabs a bulgy round leather bag strapped sideways to her, opening it just a little to show a plethora of different objects inside—blocks of incense, differently-colored powders, dried herbs, flasks of oily liquids and wooden carved symbols. "If the the Sun's light is denied us, I seek to bathe the shrine of the Morninglord in at least in its warmth, whether the Frosmaiden permits it or not." she says defiantly before looking about her as she closes the flap of the bag once again. "I wish I could be of more use, but It was too dark that night, and my eyes too blurry from slumber to discern anything about them, but I know for certain it was more than a single assailant."
Throughout the caravan there were some thirty-something people accompanying you, in a rough estimate, though it would be difficult to count them precisely because at all times there would be at least some of them resting inside wagons among their wares, waiting until their turn to drive. Most of them would be commoner servants, guards, and merchants, though you clearly see several figures that stand out, like some of the ones you got to know briefly and others.
((The Spellcasters among you identify easily enough the contents of the bag as being material components for some spell or ritual. Those who might want to see if they remember something about these ones in particular, give me an Intelligence (Religion) check.))
Antoine has remained silent through this whole exchange, looking around and taking in everything he can. Seeing that the contents of the bag are material components to a spell, he attempts to discern what they might be for, or what he might know about them.
Intelligence (Religion):14
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A caravan carrying essential materials for a divine ritual that aims to help the people of Bryn Shander stave off the brunt of the Rime of the Frostmaiden attempts to make it through the treacherous passes along the Spine of the World. However, suspicions fall upon the caravan members as some suspect it has been infiltrated by the Cult of Auril itself, threatening the ritual and the brave travelers that try to reach Ten-Towns with crucial supplies.
North of the Spine of the World and west of the towering Reghed Glacier is a frigid expanse few dare to explore, let alone inhabit. This icy land of windswept tundra recently became locked in a perpetual, dark winter without reprieve. Auril the Frostmaiden, the divine embodiment of winter's fury, has withdrawn to this cold corner of the world to live among mortals. Further, she has cast a terrible spell over Icewind Dale, to the detriment of most of its denizens.
Each night before midnight, Auril takes to the sky on the back of a white roc and weaves her spell, which manifests as a shimmering curtain of light—a beautiful aurora that illuminates the night sky and fades before dawn. This powerful magic prevents the next day's sun from rising above the horizon, turning midday into twilight and trapping Icewind Dale in winter's dark embrace, with no sunlight or warmth to melt the snow and ice. Each casting of the spell also further barricades the mountain passes with blizzards and churn the Sea of Moving Ice with blistering winds. Such measures discourage travelers from approaching or leaving Icewind Dale, further isolating the region. Icewind Dale has thus been trapped in a different reality from the rest of the world, for though the sun never rises over the dale, it continues to rise everywhere else.
The people of Icewind Dale know Auril's wrath when they feel it, and they have a name for the unending winter she has inflicted on them. They call it the Everlasting Rime. No one understands why the Frostmaiden has imposed her will in this way or why the other gods refuse to challenge her. This prolonged winter, which has gone on for more than two years, threatens to doom not just the flickering lights of civilization known as Ten-Towns but also the indigenous flora and fauna that need sunlight and the change of seasons to survive.
Saeni had joined her faction some months ago now, and under hurried circumstances to say the least, though that didn't stop them from handing her assignments, even ones that would have her completely out of her element. Having departed the much more desirable climate of the south, she had been on the road for tendays now, and ever the talkative lass, she made friends along her path—a way of making the slow and long journey less dull—most of them having departed towards other destinations, but one having strangely sticking through with her, a reserved and less communicative woman whose name she revealed only as Tragedy. Strangely sticking through other departing travelers, both soon guessed their shared destination, one most already avoid and even more so after recent news, Icewind Dale, for whatever reason. Sharing little of her reasons, Tragedy seemed only to be down on luck, and seemingly headed for one of the Ten-Towns, Lonelywood, for a fresh start.
Antoine was used to taking the Faraway Dreamer through the shores of the Sea of Moving Ice, capable of dodging the moving icebergs around easily—during the Summer, at least. The journey had become quite a bit more perilous as of late, he noted, as it was usual for the Sun to hide its face for months on end this up North, but it hadn't shown itself for more than a whole year, for Garl's sake! Nevertheless, the young gnome kept on coming back with supplies offer these hardy folk of Ten-Towns, people he guessed would have their reasons for sticking around. One day, Antoine was facing ever worsening weather conditions and was forced to bring his ship to the frozen shore, in the distance he witnessed another ship try their luck and maneuver around the icebergs, and with growing incredulity he saw them fail and get stuck in the ice. The temperatures grew so low and so fast that his own Faraway Dreamer became stuck in the icy shore, and through the following days—camped at the side of his ship and hoping for warmer weather—he watched in the distance as the other ship cracked and the crew was forced to jump out into the freezing sea to their deaths or face starvation inside the ship. The depressing scenes eventually took their toll into the gnome, as did the eventual lack of provisions. Forced to abandon his ship on a frozen shore, Antoine headed back to the road in hopes of finding help, maybe even back in Luskan. It was then that he found Ignazio's caravan, and lacking other options, joined their journey.
Rael had been travelling the Sword Coast for a while now, seeking job as a guard and participating in whatever archery competitions he was able to find—and even winning a few of them. Eventually his travels had him reach Luskan, City of Sails, where among the local merchants and pirates, he started making a name displaying his feats with the bow, bullseyeing both distant apples and bandits. It was not surprising when one certain caravan master named Ignazio approached the tiefling and asked for his services in a particular endeavor, to help guard the caravan through a perilous journey up North, through the dangerous Spine of the World and into the—some now say cursed—snow-covered Icewind Dale. The journey was bound to be dull, but the pay was good, and if his skillful presence made others more at ease for the journey, what's the worse that could happen?
To make it through the treacherous North-South in the Spine of the World mountains, all of you joined the caravan of Ignazio Gallo, a rotund Chondathan human caravan master that departed his trail of many wagons from Luskan some tendays ago. Either having joined the other travelers all the way back in Luskan or on the road, you've all witnessed as the caravan crossed the pass and narrowly dodged a deadly avalanche just as the pass was completely blocked off by snow. Whatever destiny you had in mind, your only option for survival seems to be following the caravan all the way to its destination, the largest of the Ten-Towns, Bryn Shander.
The journey through the dark cold is difficult and humorless, travelers mostly keeping to themselves and those whom they already know—which is hard to tell apart under so many layers of fur and gear. The chilling wind bites to the bone and almost deafens you, but some may imagine it is a relief from the sounds of the wilderness night around that you might hearing otherwise. These fears have been presented way before you joined the caravan, but a few days back the rumors spread around the wagons that someone in the caravan was an infiltrated cultist, a servant of the Frostmaiden herself, seeking to bring misfortune upon the travelers, maybe even offer their souls to Auril in sacrifice in some way. The travelers have been on edge, lack of sleeps dulls your senses and judgement, but no one has come to accusations. So far.
The caravan is composed of a total of eleven wagons, each carried by either two draft horses, an ox, or even a white axe beak. About thirty-something people accompany the wagons, most of them on foot, others driving their own wagons. What are you doing in the Frozenfar? What are you doing in the caravan? What brings you to this cursed land?
((The image below sets the tone nicely for the Spine of the World, it should be just a bit darker in this eternal night (some twilight should reach the skies for only about 2 to 4 hours a day around noon). All of you start with a free set of cold weather clothing along with your starting equipment. Also, since you are Tier 1 in Adventurers League, you also start with Inspiration (remember to call it before the roll) and a potion of healing. You may all post your character introductions, keeping in mind that most of you are covered in enough layers of clothing to keep even familiar faces from being recognized out in the cold (with some exceptions). Along with your first post, please roll a d20 to determine who, if anyone, among the caravan your character might have gotten to know along the journey. And welcome to Icewind Dale :) ))
GROUP 2
Cyrasil playing Saeni Tealeaf, the Halfling Warlock
Firexx, playing Tragedy Whispers, the Tiefling Bard
goatthegreat playing Antoine Happlestapple, the Rock Gnome Paladin
AndrewFairall playing Rael Brimstone, the Tiefling Fighter
Art Portfolio
D20: 9
Even in the biting cold of the north Rael seems to be in good spirits. His demonic heritage, very obvious in his deep red skin and long forward curving horns, just hidden beneath the thick furs of his cloak. He has caught quite a few of the others in the caravan eyeing him with suspicion. Each time he has simply smiled at them, enough to cause them to look away. Tensions have been running high since the rumor of infiltration started to spread thru the caravan and he is an obvious target, along with his fellow tieflingTragedy.
Keeping his eyes open, as is his duty guarding this caravan, he is peering off into the snow.
Perception: 2
(ouch good start lol)
With nerves running high among the caravan members, Rael found no respite from the weather in the dour humor of those he approached along the journey, their reactions to him as cold as the climate around them. Aside from the caravan master who hired him, Ignazio Gallo, the tiefling found no one really in the mood to talk to him. In what little interactions they had, Ignazio commented briefly on his origins, having willingly parted from his noble Patriar family from Baldur's Gate as an outcast after a few inappropriate deals in his youth, in an effort to avoid further tarnishing their reputation. Though the matter seems to be resolved in his view, as he is able to even crack jokes about it. He also shares a few comments on the road itself at times "I cross the whole Ten Trail every year and every winter, and in not one of them it looked better than the last. Well, but the coins keep coming, no matter how hard it may be."
The snow picked up by the howling wind makes little of the road ahead visible, though the line of wagons, horses, and heavy avian beast seems to be able to follow it nonetheless, maybe out of sheer experience. The ups and downs of the Spine of the World grow rather weary after a time, and the quick stops for rest on way stations—which are little more than rocky outcroppings with firepit leftovers or ruined columns of past kingdoms jutting out of the white terrain—not nearly enough to make the journey any easier.
Art Portfolio
D20 -- 19
Antoine shivers within his fur cloak, utterly miserable. His pride and joy, his fabulous Faraway Dreamer, had been stuck in the ice. Stuck in the ice! And now, he's stuck too. Practically trapped in the frozen north. The best thing to do was to get to town, better, at least, than being lost in the harsh, snowy wilderness. The small gnome shivers again, staring up towards the bleak, unyielding sky where the sun should have been. No sun, all grey, and snowy, and grim. Antoine sighs. He's used to being here in the summer. In fact, he'd never been this far north during this part of the year before. If he hadn't volunteered to deliver a shipment of supplies for a friend, none of this would have ever happened.
He looks around at the others in the caravan. There'd been rumors of some sort of cultist infiltration, but he wasn't exactly sure what that was all about. He peers, attempting not to be overt, at the other faces around him. Could one of them, somehow, be the traitor?
Insight: 20
The news that the pass South had been blocked after the caravan passed stuck the gnome hard, and Antoine has been rather down in his mood the last few days, which didn't help much in his spirits in the matters of finding conversation and sharing stories—something he might have been more than prone to otherwise.
Even though you commit yourself to identifying the true colors behind the other caravan members, the poor visibility conditions and the general humorless mood of the others makes the task rather difficult. You take your time in observation, and are able to analyze a few of the others superficially. Taking a rough estimate among the various other travelers, you identify a few commoner servants, some caravan guards, a few adventurers (professional or not), at least two divine acolytes, two scholars, two nobles, and at least four other travelers you couldn't really get a measure of.
Interpreted your Insight as an estimate of the others in the whole caravan. It was a good roll, but spread over a lot of range. Let me know if you plan to further observe any of these.
Art Portfolio
Antoine attempts to watch the adventurers more closely, to make out through their thick winter gear what they look like and if they appear trustworthy.
Insight: 19
Saeni has been travelling with the caravan for some time now. Due to her smaller stature, she preferred traveling on board of on of the many wagons of the caravan. When the roads became less hospitable, due to the snow and bad weather, Saeni's cheerful demeanor, and her mandolin helped to make the nights a bit less gloomy.
Have you heard the news, Mr Paws? Whispers Saeni to her pet ferret. They say there might be some cultists hiding among us. I hope it is not you Mr. Paws. Says she and start to laught.
Roll: 15
Saeni was able to secure a spot at the side of the driver's seat of Danai Ndidi's wagon, a young scholar of Chultan descent, accompanied by three other friendly Chultan commoner servants serving her. The young lass is able to go on endlessly about exploration of old and forgotten places, she claims to be an "explorer, archeologist, anthropologist" and a bunch other -ers and -ists you simply forgot about. She seems rather interested in a local mountain called Kelvin's Cairn, claiming she is about to meet a dwarf named Baellac Hammerstone in order to gather up an expedition to brave the place. She claims to work for a certain Merchant Prince named Wakanga O'tamu, who's sponsoring her journey in the hopes she brings back magical artifacts he might be able to barter with interested clientele. At times when conversation died down, you sometimes caught a glimpse of Danai's face turning mellancholic for some reason, staring off at another of the wagons with some measure resentment, though she doesn't comment on it.
You can't help but think what sort of expedition would be able to survive such inclement weather. Mr. Paws seems to happily fidget at your brief interaction, before briefly showing a distinctively cultist-ey look for but a moment, then returning to its normal self. Saeni plays a single dissonant and stares wide-eyed at the ferret for a moment, which just seems to be happily hopping about her gear—probably just her imagination.
Focused in careful observation of his recent traveling companions, Antoine is able to take measure of some of them:
Focusing on those you'd feel would be able to differentiate themselves from the more common lot of merchants and guards, you are able to take account of some.
The two tieflings certainly stand out in the caravan, being a rather uncommon race. One keeps mostly to herself and seems on a rather dour mood, having some mannerism that seem somewhat out of place for some reason, and she seems particularly observant of others, catching you staring at her sometimes. The other is one of the guards, but his skill and pride certainly set him apart from them, carrying a bow instead of the regular spear and though you never saw him shoot an arrow, you can guess he is one of superior skill.
Joined the first female tiefling you see a female halfling with a ferret pet that sometimes takes out a mandolin to lighten up the mood with some tunes. She seems to closely guard something on the inside of her clothes, close to the chest, though it's impossible to see what it would be.
You are also able to observe in the back of the caravan a pair of male humans that display a particular affection to one another, you clearly heard one of them referring to the other as "husband" when trying to catch something out of other's conversations. They mostly keep to the back of the caravan warily eyeing the others.
Art Portfolio
Antoine moves across the caravan to the halfling with the ferret. She seems innocent enough, thinks Antoine, and she's small like me. When he reaches her, he sits down next to her. "Hi! My name's Antoine. My ship was trapped in the ice near here, so I hitched a ride to Bryn Shander. Seemed safer than staying out here. I like your ferret, by the way. And you? How did you end up on this caravan?"
Oh, hello I am Saeni and this here is Mr. Paws. Introduces herself Saeni while Mr. Paws continues to attack one of the really annoying sacks back in the wagon. You have a ship? That's fascinating. Is it large ship? You must have seen so many interesting places then. Tell me everything. Have you been to Chult? They say there are those huge lizards there, have you seen them? And, what about that Elvish Island, Evermeet they call it have you been there?
"Yes, I do have a ship," smiles Antoine. "She's called the Faraway Dreamer, and, yeah, quite large. I usually ferry supplies from down near Waterdeep up to these regions, but I've been known to make the occasional detour to more... exotic climes. Unfortunately, I've never been to Chult -- wish I had, sounds amazing -- but I have delivered supplies to Evermeet. 'Course, I just delivered the supplies across ships, they wouldn't let me onto the island proper, but, well..." he trails off. He's trying not to sound conceited, but it might not be working.
D20: 2
Tragedy sits on the side of one of the wagons, hood pulled low to hide her face. She has heard the rumors of the Frostmaiden's servant and easily notices the glances towards her, shrinking back at most of them but maintaining eye contact with the ones who seem overly curious, like the gnome, until they look away. Why did I even come on this blasted trip? she thinks, grumbling to herself and hugging her lyre closer to her chest to keep it warm. Her talkative halfling companion, Saeni, had played the mandolin every now and then, but she withheld from contributing to the music. Tragedy had considered it, but there were no opportunities to make money from it at the moment, and the icy weather would not be kind to the strings. Hopefully, once they reached the Ten-Towns, better opportunities would present themselves.
A completed pbp forum game:
Harley Atheonaikie in Frozen Sick
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Current pbp forum games:
Delilah Rose in Rivulestice
Tragedy Whispers (Previously: A Deep & Creeping Darkness & Waterdeep: Dragon Heist)
Back before even reaching Luskan and joining this caravan, Tragedy had the displeasure of meeting one road companion that still lingers around to this day. At first the strong, bald, rough-on-the-edges pale man looked like a similar history from what he shared, also headed to Lonelywood, also running from trouble. Though that gruff exterior proved not merely a façade, for this Cornelius was really a rugged ruffian, and took every opportunity to display his cruelty, violence, and foul mood. You even witnessed him participating in a drunken brawl back in Luskan, one that left more than one tavern patrons outside bleeding in the cold mud. He usually regards others with remarks such as "Off my way, filth." or "I don’t owe you a shard of bloodstone for you to be questioning me about, get lost!" and it just makes it seem that the foul weather around is particularly able to get to him. All of it really makes you wonder why has he shared anything with you at all, though you clearly remember a spark of comradery come over his features when Lonelywood was mentioned... not sure why.
Art Portfolio
Days go by uneasily on the road, and though tensions run high, they are more or less the same, too much snow and too little comfort. The caravan expects to reach Bryn Shander
three days from now or the day after that, it's hard to measure distances and time through this constant fog and lack of sunlight. As the caravan master announces the one-hour stop for lunch and for the beasts to rest in whatever twilight makes up highsun now, the wagons settle against a rocky outcropping for some wind break, and groups gather up to light up fires and thaw their soups.
You all happen to gather up with some familiar, if somewhat cold, faces of the last days on the road, circling around a small campfire to warm up both joints and food. Among the others in your circle you see a middle-aged priestess dressed in red garments, you notice as she looks your way but hesitates and looks away, then again as something inside her seems to build up courage, then she finally approaches your group. As she approaches you are able to see her tired demeanor and darkened circles around her eyes, she motions for you to gather close and whispers “Blessings of the Morninglord upon you, fellow travelers. I- I beg your pardon, but you have the look of adventurers about you." she awkwardly points towards all the gear you've been carrying, "Please, don't get me wrong, I'm a retired adventurer myself. I am Mithann, devout servant of the Glory of Dawn, our bright lord Sun. If you would but listen, I have a few words to share, ones that I held in secrecy for days, but now I fear they’re far beyond just that.” the priestess seems in turmoil, and looks around to see if anyone else is listening in, but the howling wind seems to take enough account of that, "Listen, I need help. I carry important materials with me, crucial for the survival of the people of Ten-Towns, but it seems that those that work against me are closer and know more than I anticipated. You surely heard the rumors of cultists infiltrated among us, right?"
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Rael listens to the woman words, never stoping eating his meal. "Greetings dear lady. I've have heard such things. Cant say I hold much stock in the rumors myself" quickly glancing at the others gathered here.
Mithann stares at Rael for a moment, wide-eyed and shaking her head in resignation, "I wish they were just rumors, friend." she takes a deep breath and a few moments to build up courage before continuing, her eyes darting around at the other travelers in the distance before trailing towards the campfire, "A few days ago, I went to sleep by one of the wagons, hugging my precious materials bag close. Deep in the night I was awaken by a shuffling sound nearby, and in the darkness I saw figures sneaking in the nearby shadows." she looks back at you, "My sleepy blurred vision wasn't able to discern details, but I'm sure those were the very rumors we discuss now." she pauses for a moment, taking in a spoonful of soup, her hands shaking slightly, "I've questioned the guards the day after, no one got in or out of the caravan encampment that night or any other since. They're here with us. The servants of the Frostmaiden are here."
The priestess spends a few moments in silence as she lets the information sink in, eating a bit more of her soup, "I've approached you for a reason, I think you can help out. I would ask you to judge the characters of our fellow travelers over the rest of the day, poke around them a bit, ask questions, see what you find out, find out who may our suspicions fall upon. Anything you discover will be invaluable for the people of Ten-Towns." she grabs Rael's hand firmly and stares with pleading eyes, "I trust that you can help me in this discreetly. What do you say?"
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Oh, that is terrible news. Can you tell us what exactly are these supplies? Did the thief actually managed to steal anything or have you woken soon enough to stop them? Anything you remember about the thief would be helpful too. Even if you don't know any details any general information might help. Were they tall or short, thin or thick? We will do our best to aid you, won't we Mr. Paws? Says Saeni, and gives her pet a piece of meat form her soup.
"Of course we can help you discreetly," Tragedy says, speaking quietly between bites of the meal. She looks around to get an idea of how many other travellers there are with the caravan. "Indeed, as Saeni has asked though, what are these precious materials?"
A completed pbp forum game:
Harley Atheonaikie in Frozen Sick
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Current pbp forum games:
Delilah Rose in Rivulestice
Tragedy Whispers (Previously: A Deep & Creeping Darkness & Waterdeep: Dragon Heist)
Mithann hesitates for a moment, but grabs a bulgy round leather bag strapped sideways to her, opening it just a little to show a plethora of different objects inside—blocks of incense, differently-colored powders, dried herbs, flasks of oily liquids and wooden carved symbols. "If the the Sun's light is denied us, I seek to bathe the shrine of the Morninglord in at least in its warmth, whether the Frosmaiden permits it or not." she says defiantly before looking about her as she closes the flap of the bag once again. "I wish I could be of more use, but It was too dark that night, and my eyes too blurry from slumber to discern anything about them, but I know for certain it was more than a single assailant."
Throughout the caravan there were some thirty-something people accompanying you, in a rough estimate, though it would be difficult to count them precisely because at all times there would be at least some of them resting inside wagons among their wares, waiting until their turn to drive. Most of them would be commoner servants, guards, and merchants, though you clearly see several figures that stand out, like some of the ones you got to know briefly and others.
((The Spellcasters among you identify easily enough the contents of the bag as being material components for some spell or ritual. Those who might want to see if they remember something about these ones in particular, give me an Intelligence (Religion) check.))
Art Portfolio
Antoine has remained silent through this whole exchange, looking around and taking in everything he can. Seeing that the contents of the bag are material components to a spell, he attempts to discern what they might be for, or what he might know about them.
Intelligence (Religion): 14