In the city of Neverwinter, you have accepted a job escorting a wagonload of provisions to the town of Phandalin, a journey of two to three days southeast. The payment is 10 gold pieces per person upon delivery of the goods at Barthen's Provisions, a trading post in Phandalin. Your patron is Gundren Rockseeker, a stocky dwarven merchant with a friendly demeanor. You spent the previous evening at the Driftwood Tavern, at a table with Gundren and his escort, a stoic human warrior named Sildar Hallwinter.
Gundren is more than excited for this trip. He deftly dodged any questions about the purpose behind the expedition; the most you could get out of him after a few mugs of ale was that he and his brothers, Tharden and Nundro, had found "something big". Sildar has his own reasons for escorting the friendly dwarf. As a member of the Lord's Alliance, he has an interest in ensuring that this up and coming mining town is safe from the bandits and outlaws known to lurk in the area. Clad in fine chain mail, with a longsword emblazoned with the emblem of Neverwinter in its hilt, you feel sorry for any bandits that cross his path.
It is now the following morning, and to your surprise, when you meet Gundren and Sildar at the southeastern gate of Neverwinter, Gundren informs you that he needs to arrive early to "take care of business". He and Sildar ride ahead of you on horseback, and the five of you begin your journey south, following the High Road.
The wagon is pulled by two well-trained oxen; if no one is holding the reins, the oxen stop where they are. The wagon is packed full of an assortment of mining supplies and food. This includes a dozen sacks of flour, several casks of salted pork, two kegs of strong ale, around a dozen shovels, picks, and crowbars each, and five lanterns with a small barrel of oil.
Idrix Ashir stands a broad, fit man if not exceptionally tall. Or more accurately, paces next to the caravan on the right side near the front. His bald head is as ruddy and near-crimson as the rest of his skin, and his bright-orange beard and chest hair have tiny flames flickering through them haphazardly. Bright ruby red irises lie above a mouth used to smiling and laughing. His clothing appears to be the result of mangling together two outfits, one of dull-brown heat-resistant cloth, and the other of flamboyant streaks of reds, oranges and yellows clearly made of a fine cut. The combined outfit offers little to nothing in way of practical protection, especially since much of his chest is bare.
And he is smiling, while speaking loudly in the general direction of Sildar.
"Cheers Sildar for the good word! That gang is toast waiting to burn! You know how I deal with bounties!"
He chuckles to himself and shouts back to the others enthusiastically.
"How about the rest of you? Up for beating and burning some bandit brains? I'm Idrix Ashir and I'm here to smack sense into them!"
Ren’Kel, or Ren, is a scrawny looking wood-elf. He looks young, and the rare occasion he removes his mask to eat or drink two it draws attention. The reason is the collection of scars on his face. One particular large one is going from his eye, across his nose and ends on his chin. He’s missing a part of his nose and some wild flesh growth on his cheek make it obvious why he chooses to cover up in company.
He’s skittish and seems unsure of himself, lacking the self esteem needed to continue a conversation for an extended amount of time in company. He’s polite though, and treats everyone with a decent amount of respect. Whether out of self-preservation or manners is left to the observer.
His clothes consist of patchwork rags with holes scattered throughout. The colors range from greens and browns to yellows and orange. They mimic the colors of the forest somewhat, and the fact that they’re dirty with just about everything the forest has to offer helps significantly.
Every now and then a tiny little grey mouse can be seen making its way through the holes of his cloak and over his shoulder down, before disappearing in one of the pockets of his leather armor.
He’s got a brown leather sack with him that seems to contain all his earthly belongings, except for the longbow he’s got at his side.
At the tavern it becomes clear that Ren has been doing the odd job for Gundren ever since he arrived at the city. Exactly how they met isn’t discussed, but they seem to know each other.
————
As they meet Gundren and Sildar, Ren just seems to fade into the background avoiding contact. He’s easily outshined by the flamboyant genasi.
When Idrix pipes up and asks if he’s ready to take care of some bandits, Ren cocks his head and nods once.
From behind the carved mask is sounds: “Oh hell yes, they will know me and despair.” Uncharacteristically with full of zeal.
On the road there’s a clear difference in his attitude. He’s more lively, and seems to take his work serious. He can be found at the front, navigating most of the time, and reports back often and with clarity.
Darting back and forth he’s got a calmness over him that wasn’t there within the city limits.
"Always has a couple-three things goin' on at once, cousin Gundren does," remarks Rory with a slight eyeroll after waving goodbye to the other dwarf. "Let's just hope he can keep 'em all straight this time!"
The dwarf's demeanor is generally easygoing as he sizes up his traveling companions. "If we do encounter bandits, at least we know who's gonna be drawing their eye," he offers with a wink at Idrix.
By comparison to the genasi's outfit, Rory wears a simple outfit of trousers and shirt in muted, natural tones underneath his mail and padding, and a tabard of the same. The tabard does bear his insignia in silver stitching: the gauntleted hand of Torm and a falcon.
"Let's just not get distracted from our own task, though -- if we can get this cart to Phandalin without having to knock any heads, so much the better. Speakin' of, unless one of you has a strong urgin' to drive, I'm a fair hand with a team."
Walking on the other side of the caravan to Idrix, Grognard's muscular frame with grey skin and flakes of purple seen when the sun is at the right angle. Wearing simple clothes that would look at home on any farmer. Using his spear as a walking pole, with small carvings running down the shaft.
As both Idrix and Ren talk about killing he looks at them just as he opens his mouth, Rory says about hoping to not need to knock any heads, he turns to him "I couldn't have said it any better."
Am I ready if I have to fight again, was this a good idea?
Shaking his head while turning back "I think the oxen would be happier if walked."
Gelin Brooklane, a fair-skinned, dark haired half-elf, saunters up beside the wagon, strumming a few chords on his lute. His leather armor, shirt and breeches are nothing extravagant, though quite clean for what otherwise appears to be a regular traveler. Despite his slight frame, his step is relaxed and sure. Spying the motley crew assembled, his face breaks into a grin as he tips his wide-brimmed hat with a slight bow.
"Morning, gents! Gelin Brooklane, here to lighten the ride with a tune or two--or more, long as we've a good drink now and then...and should the worst befall you, well...you can be sure I'll write a song of it!"
He takes a moment to steady himself on the steps of the wagon before climbing up next to the driver's seat, offering a hand to the burly cleric. "Best seat in the house right here, master Dwarf."
"A pleasure to make yer acquaintance, mister Brooklane," Rory returns with an quirk of the mouth. "And what brings you along on this trip? Surely a few days of staring at the back end of an ox can't be that inspirin' of song!"
Idrix's boisterous good cheer continues like a seemingly unquenchable fire.
From behind the carved mask is sounds: “Oh hell yes, they will know me and despair.” Uncharacteristically with full of zeal.
"That's the spirit, Ren! Give 'em hell and make them run like it!"
****************
The dwarf's demeanor is generally easygoing as he sizes up his traveling companions. "If we do encounter bandits, at least we know who's gonna be drawing their eye," he offers with a wink at Idrix.
"Haha! Good one Rory! That goes without saying!"
****************
"Let's just not get distracted from our own task, though -- if we can get this cart to Phandalin without having to knock any heads, so much the better. Speakin' of, unless one of you has a strong urgin' to drive, I'm a fair hand with a team."
As both Idrix and Ren talk about killing he looks at them just as he opens his mouth, Rory says about hoping to not need to knock any heads, he turns to him ""I couldn't have said it any better.""
"It it's quiet, it's quiet! Though I'm not here for quiet! But don't worry, this cart is as safe as it gets!"
****************
"Morning, gents! Gelin Brooklane, here to lighten the ride with a tune or two--or more, long as we've a good drink now and then...and should the worst befall you, well...you can be sure I'll write a song of it!"
"A bard eh? You'll have the greatest inspiration, right here!"
Grognard calmly says to Idrix "Breath, I think you are getting too excited at the thought of killing gangs and bandits and impressing new people."
"Tell me why do you what to kill them so much?"
Ren, who had dared speak up for once, immediately felt judged for his words. He’d just tried to get close to Idrix, to make a connection. He wasn’t a killer, not really, and his words had been unnecessarily boastful.
He could almost feel the mask itself turn red out of shame, as he stumbled over the words trying to explain himself to Grognard, without falling out with Idrix.
“If.. If I may.. I’ve heard about bandits harassing a frontier town near Neverwinter. They prey on the weak and are scum of the earth.. I.. I have no appetite for killing, but what I’ve heard about them made my hairs rise.. I’d have no problem with it neither.”
A bead of sweat ran down his neck and Ren almost felt lightheaded. Would they send him away now? Would they discover that he didn’t belong? He was so worried with existential fears that he almost couldn’t register the reply.
Gelin chuckles. "Never seen someone kicked by an ox then, have you? Spy the right ox, right time, treated wrong by the right driver and you'll be gasping for days laughing!"
He strums his lute absentmindedly. "Though, I did hear the odd rumor of a town taken by a dragon. Probably just some old soldier going senile, but just think: a dragon! No matter how it ends, any story with a dragon's got to be worth a look."
Gelin's smile widens as he stares off into space, his strumming growing more dramatic. "Imagine freeing a town from a dragon. The beast at your feet in a heap, fresh blood coating your blade, the cheers of the villagers, unshackled from tyranny incarnate!" He stands atop the wagon, throwing his arms wide with a mighty chord from his strings. "The treasure! The applause! The bottomless drinks!"
He palms the face of his lute, silencing the strings suddenly as he turns to the group with a grin. "Tell me a dull dragonslaying tale and I'll show you a terrible storyteller."
Idrix turns to Grognard, barely pausing for breath:
"Like the lad says, they're bad sorts! And I don't need to *kill* them, just make sure they're beaten and running and that the fine folk of the Sword Coast see me do it! But if some murderer gets a little too crispy, well, that's their problem!"
Idrix actually pauses his speech for more than a token amount at the mention of Gelin's dragon, then words come rushing out again:
"Hold up, bard, a dragon!? How far in the cups was the one who told you that?! But if there *is* one-oh hell YES!"
Out of sheer excitement, Idrix thumps his bare chest with his right hand, sending sparks flying.
Grognard glances at Idrix and Ren: "I did not mean to offend either of you, but I just wanted to know that violence wasn't the default reaction on meeting 'bad sorts'. First, impress are not always the best."
Hearing Gelin jolly tones, turns his head: "Do you really think we can take on a dragon and survive to sing about it?" after a slight pause with a smile "but I have to admit it would feel good freeing a town from a dragon."
Picking up on Ren'kel's discomfort, Rory sidebars with him as the others go on with fanciful rumors and boasts about dragons.
"Oh, aye, for sure there are potential dangers on the road." He snorts ruefully, "And with the luck cousin Gundren seems to have, there's better than not a chance we'll see your bow in action this trip!"
Trying to give the elf a chance to boast, he offers, "In fact, ye seem to be a fair scout, and I can barely keep sight of you meself when you're uptrail -- I expect if there's trouble, you'll see it well before it finds us."
The party finds the first day of travel to be rather uneventful, but full of conversation. Night creeps in as the group begins to get to know one another and you make camp. By your estimation, you're around halfway down the High Road between Neverwinter and where the Triboar Trail forks east toward Phandalin.
You set out again in the morning, feeling refreshed.
As the camp is waking up, Idrix stretches his arms out while still sitting up, his magic already at work to clean the night sweat from his skin.
In a voice cheery for the early hour:
"Another great day to be alive! The road again soon! What's for breakfast?"
Just as Idrix looked around, Ren was already blowing life into the small campfire from last night.
Beside him he’s got some nuts, roots and berries that he’s collected and lay visible in an open sack.
“Morning.” He said, not taking his eyes off of the task at hand.
He liked Idrix, who with his warm demeanor didn’t seem to mind Ren’s awkwardness.
In fact, since Rory talked to him yesterday Ren had felt better. Everyone seemed quite friendly and had treated him like a normal human being and Ren had pushed his inner doubts and fears to the back of his mind for now. He’d risen two hours earlier, taking only some hours in trance during the dead of night.
Ren liked the early hours just before sunrise and he’d used the time to discover the land and follow some trails that led to interesting discoveries. He didn’t think blueberries grew up here but was pleasantly surprised when he came across some and set out to incorporate them into a tasty breakfast.
“Nothing more than the blessings of the land.”[/] He answered Idrix’ call for sustenance.
[b]“It’ll be done in a couple of minutes.” He said as he placed a dented cooking pot above the fire.
Gelin rises slowly, stretching and popping his neck with great effort and stumbling out of his sleeping spot with barely open eyes. "Morning? Already?" he yawns, shuffling over to the nearby campfire to have a seat. He stares blankly at Ren, the pot and whatever else he was holding, the night's sleep still clouding his face with a lifelessly bleary look.
Grognard yawning says: "Morning all, that smells good." while sleepily rolls up the bedroll.
Taking a Sit next to the fire, he fights a losing battle to keep his eyes open.
Idrix finishes cleaning himself and his clothes with his powers, and stands up, stretching his arms and legs out.
"Damn, but that does smell good! I like your work Ren! You need a hand with that fire? I can provide anything from sparks up to full on bonfire, any time!"
Rory stretches and scratches as he rolls upto the fire. "thanks for taking last watch, Ren - I see ye used it productively!" he offers chipperly.
The conversation during another uneventful day of travel is subdued and polite, the boisterous boasting of the day before turning to pleasantness as this group of adventurers begins to grow more comfortable with one another. As night falls, you reach the crossing where the High Road meets the Triboar Trail that runs east toward Phandalin, and make camp.
You've been heading east on the Triboar Trail for around half a day now. As you come around a bend, you spot two dead horses sprawled about fifty feet ahead of you, blocking the path. Each has several black-feathered arrows sticking out of it. The woods press close to the trail here, with a steep embankment and dense thickets on either side.
Ren wasn’t far up ahead, and promptly made his way back to the wagon. He’s running, which is new, and a curt hand gesture signals the fact that something is off before he’s close enough to talk.
“Two horses, peppered with black feathered arrows up ahead. I don’t know if we can pass them yet, I didn’t stay to investigate.”
He waits patiently for someone else to take the lead, or tell him what to do as he scans the area around him.
The crucial gap in Gelin's lackluster planning dawns on him later in the morning. I...didn't bring any food with me. Hm. He decides Ren has the right idea and follows suit, leaving Rory with the reins.
Upon spying the gruesome scene, Gelin blinks in surprise. "Sooo...I can't help but notice that's a lot of arrows...that's not how you put down a lame horse...right?"
Seeing and tasting Ren's efforts, Idrix decides to try his hand at foraging.
"Let's see if I can't rustle up a bit more meat!", he says as he wanders off into the woods.
There are some distant 'WHUMPS' and 'CRACKS' for a time, and the odd round of laughter. Eventually Idrix emerges, several singed hares in hand.
"Hare's up!"
*****************************************
Idrix strokes his beard in thought, flickers of smoke rising as he does so.
"Thick thickets? Shot up horses? Sounds like someone got ambushed and bad! How about we all get into position, and I set fire to the thickets? Flush 'em out, and we all get stuck in!?"
Without any real thought, Grognard says: "Gelin maybe they wanted to make sure. Anyway, can we not just drag them out of the way? There is enough of us."
Ren laughed, albeit somewhat nervously, at Idrix’ antics while hunting in the morning and congratulated him on his catch.
But when Idrix offers to torch the bush around the path, Ren looked at him with doubt.
“Em, I don’t know.. that..” He looked at the thick foliage around him.
“There’s a serious risk for a forest fire, it might hinder your future attempts at catching anything at all.”
“I could sneak around a bit, see if I can poke through the shrubbery myself. Just to make sure there’s anything at all?”
Idrix still looks in the direction of the bush for a moment.
And then turns to Ren.
"You know what? You have a go! But holler if you run into trouble!"
Idrix casually clicks the fingers on his left hand, the palm of his hand now aflame. He clicks again with his right hand, and the flame disappears on the left and appears on the right. And left again...
Ren was a bit shaken by seeing the horses so brutally put down, but he nodded and looked at the others for confirmation before he turned and ran off of the road into trees.
“Listen for the snow-owl, should I come across something.” He said, hoping they’d know what to do.
He treaded lightly, he was used to thick forest ground and he followed every instinct he had grown up with.
He went in a wide circle and wanted to approach the horses from the other side, hoping to see something before something saw him.
His bow out, his breathing low and controlled he darted around while constantly scanning the area around him.
Sneak:
Perception:
On seeing Ren running back towards the wagon, Rory quickly checks his armor and grabs his shield from behind himself.
His eyes narrow at the elf's report -- "Two horses? An' did they look like Gundren and Sildar's, did ye notice? See if ye can see any sign whether the riders walked away or were dragged off."
The dwarf scans the trees and trail ahead anxiously, moving the cart ahead at a slow walk as Ren slips away into the trees. Been here before a time or three, I have -- waitin' for the ambush is always the worst part.
Ren walks up the escarpment, down, and around to the other side of the horses without spotting anything. As he approaches the horses, he can see that the horses have been dead for around a day, and unfortunately, belong to Gundren Rockseeker and Sildar Hallwinter. The saddlebags have been looted. Nearby lies an empty leather map case.
Back at the wagon, Rory and Gelin notice four forms along the treeline. They raise a shout toward Ren, but too late, as arrows begin to rain down.
Average = 15.4
Average = 8.5
Two goblins have raised their shortbows to take shots at Ren by the horses. Two more are charging down the escarpment on the other side of Ren with a scimitar in hand.
Turn 1 Remaining:
Rory and Gelin (in either order - their passive perceptions beat the goblins' stealth)
Goblins
Tracking:
The shortbow goblins in the treeline are 60 feet from the wagon group, and 40 feet from Ren.
The scimitar goblins are 80 feet from the wagon, and 20 feet from Ren.
"Hold this!" Rory says, thrusting the team's reins at Gelin as he hops off the cart. Drawing his hammer, he rushes towards the goblins menacing the lightly armored elf with their scimitars.
"Ren! Get behind me! And somebody take care o' those archers!"
Turn 1 Remaining:
Gelin
Goblins
"Goblins," Gelin utters under his breath, looking down at the reins for a moment before spotting the archers. An instant's pause is all he needs to grab his lute and strum a lulling chord in their direction.
As the shortbow goblins ready their shots at Ren, wondering why there are suddenly multiple Rens, they collapse into unconscious slumber.
Meanwhile, the goblins wielding scimitars have blocked Ren between horse corpses and escape.
Turn 2 Remaining:
Players (in any order)
Goblins
Tracking
Sleep Turn 1/10
The shortbow goblins are asleep atop the escarpment, 60 feet from the wagon, 40 feet from Ren, and 30 feet from Rory (but up an escarpment).
The scimitar goblins are 80 feet from the wagon, 30 feet from Rory (but two dead horses are between), and 20 feet from Ren.
Idrix was still swapping hands to produce fire. And then he snapped to attention.
"Goblins!? Oh, time to care take of this!"
The tiny flames on his beard flicker harder as he starts moving forward. The flames on his hands temporarily wink out, only to be replaced with a roaring fist of flame which he launches towards the nearest scimitar-wielding goblin.
"EAT FIRE, GOBLIN!"
5/5 asleep
7/7 asleep
7/8
11/11
Idrix unleashes a fist of flame from his hands, soaring across the battlefield as Rory charges and Ren turns to face the approaching goblins. The fire bolt slightly sears the flesh of a goblin's arm, before continuing another 40 feet and winking out of existence.
Turn 2 Order:
Gelin, Rory, Ren and Grognard (in any order)
Goblins
Grognard walks towards the goblin wielding the scimitar, without breaking stride he flicks the spear around in his hand brings it back and launches it towards the goblin that Idrix isn't trying to set on fire.
Grognard's spear falls harmlessly to the side of a goblin.
Turn 2 Order:
Gelin, Rory and Ren (in any order)
Goblins
One moment he was quietly inspecting the scene, the next... all hell broke loose around him. His traveling companions came rushing in, shouting and casting spells.
He could hear Rory’s cry, but Ren didn’t have a chance to comply. He was stuck between the cadavers and was charged by two goblins. They were close and he could see the red in their eyes and the yellow of their jagged, broken, teeth.
He had no time to contemplate how this might have happened, how he missed them hiding out there. Ren quickly grabbed an arrow, lined it up and shot it at the menacing little creature before backing away from the attack as best he could.
Action: Ranged attack, using inspiration.
and
Damage:
Move: Move away 35 ft, as best he can, away from the two scimitar goblins.
5/5 asleep
7/7 asleep
0/8
11/11
Leaping over the horses, Ren sprints past Rory's charge, turns, and fires an arrow through a running goblin's forehead, stopping it in its tracks, its momentum carrying it into a tumble of dead weight.
Turn 2 Order:
Gelin and Rory (in any order)
Goblins
With his companions on the "safe" side of him, Rory will hold his line and wait to intercept the remaining goblin.
Rory readies a swing with his warhammer, but seeing its companion fall, and noting the lack of arrows flying in its enemies' direction, the remaining scimitar goblin turns and flees, making a beeline for the sleeping goblins in the treeline.
Turn 3 Remaining:
Players (in any order)
Goblins
Tracking:
Sleep Turn 2/10
The scimitar goblin has joined the sleeping goblins atop the escarpment, 60 feet from Gelin at the wagon, and approx. 40 feet from the rest of the party
Idrix grins widely.
He keeps sprinting forward, and reckons he is close enough. A ruby red orb is now clutched tightly in his right fist.
"Gotcha!"
He points his fist at the treeline where the goblins are bunched up - and a gout of flame rushes towards them.
Grognard grunts at the sight of the spear missing. He begins to jog towards the goblins.
"Nice shot Ren'Kel."
0/5
2/7
0/8
9/11
The gout of flame from Idrix overtakes the goblins as the scimitar goblin is leaning over to wake his allies. Seeing the flames coming, it dives out of the way and avoids most of the fire, but its sleeping companions are not so lucky; they are completely engulfed in flames. One awakes with a scream, but the other lies still, its body cracking and sizzling.
Grognard moves toward the goblins as this is happening.
Turn 2 Order:
Ren, Rory and Gelin (in any order)
Goblins
Gelin holds his nose as the scent of cooked goblin reaches him. "They actually smell WORSE..." He looks between the goblins and the wagon, trying to decide whether to take cover in case of further ambush...or move in to get a better look at the heroics. The restless stirring of the oxen helps his decision. He hops out of the driver's seat, steps around to the back of the wagon for cover, then scans the area, looking for further Goblin-sign...then an idea springs to mind. He cups his hands around his mouth, shouting to Idrix.
"Maybe we should capture one to question it!"