Chapter 1

The dawn is especially cruel this morning. You awake with the realisation that this is not some terrible dream or fleeting nightmare. The weather does little to reflect the mood - blazing sunshine and clear skies. It is the height of the Sword Coast summer. An ever-present breeze is pleasant against the heat. Were it not for the nearby grave, this spot may have been lovely for a picnic. After breaking camp you set off in the rough direction of the Friendly Arm Inn, where Gorion had promised trustworthy friends - perhaps the last ones you have left outside of your group. Candlekeep is locked to you. Its draconian entry rules barring entry without Gorion's influence.

The weather is a boon for travel and you make good time. For all the concern about bandits and wild monsters you mercifully see none of them. There's a few grazing animals but they either ignore you or run at first sight. At maybe midday, just as you crest a small hill, you overhear voices and catch sight of two arguing figures ahead of you. One a halfling dressed in leathers with daggers at his belt, the other a tall human in a robe. The halfling's face is scarred, most likely from weapons and his face tan. He ha a mop of greasy hair pulled back into loose tie. The human's hair falls around his head in brushed waves of chocolate, but most notable is his facepaint or tattoos - lines of small circles on his forehead, elongated triangular 'tears' beneath his eyes and stretched lines of a smile to the sides of his mouth. You might think him a jester or a clown, were it not for his relatively ordinary clothing and the rest of his face being unpainted beyond the designs.

Both seem equipped for long travel, same as you. They stop as they catch sight of you. For a moment the halfling puts hands to his daggers but is waved away from them by his companion. "Hold, Montaron, these young wayfarers are in need! Someone has set about them and left them worse for wear." "Aye Xzar, they've got that smell." "Yes, yes, the smell. Still, my friends, my new friends, I can offer these healing potions if you wish?" He opens one of his bags to reveal a small cache of what look to be potions. "As goodwill, for fellow travelers harried by this most unfortunate world we live in." His smile is sickly sweet, but the halfling never quite relaxes his stance.