IC - Lost Mines of Phandelver

[Oseyerys]

If one were to ask a native of the Sword Coast what the best way to travel would be, undoubtedly their response would be to walk the High Road that connects cities from Luskan in the north, through Neverwinter, past Waterdeep, and curling all the way to Baldur's Gate in the south. It's a common road for caravans of merchants, traveling ambassadors, and aspiring adventurers to walk in search of making names for themselves. On this particular day in Faerun, while the sun is beating down on the well-worn dirt road causing cicadas to hum in the air, perhaps through the will of the gods, or simply happenstance, various destinies are on the brink of merging. For a lesser traveled road branches off the High Road, one that is quite literally "off the beaten path" that leads towards the small frontier settlement of Phandalin. This is not a path for ambassadors. This is not a path for common folk to "sight see". This is rarely even a path for merchants. No, this path is for those hearty, or foolish enough to chase their dreams of riches and glory. This is a path for adventurers who wish to carve their name into history. It is this road that a handful of individuals, each coming from a different walk of life, are approaching. This is where their journey begins...

Spoiler: OOC

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Players if you would like to describe your characters and what they're doing on the road please

[Imbalance]

What's in the box?

The road is hot, but not as hot as the river had been. Torinn of Clan Nemmonis trudges along, head down, itinerant. He huffs, partly at the heat, partly under the load of the luggage on his shoulder, but mostly to express his annoyance at the question posed by the vexing voice that only he can hear. In the midst of a deep exhalation, he mutters a snide reply.

"For the one hundredth time, it's the gear the dwarves gave us..." He takes a breath and corrects himself, "-me! The stuff they gave me to hopefully get rid of you!"

He doesn't usually lose his temper, but it had been a long journey with little rest, and without a suitable prospect in the city he was down to his last silver. And the voice - seemingly sourced from the mottled red stone hung about his neck - had reduced him to his last nerve. He quickly looks about to see if anyone heard but catches no one staring. Surely the pair of Elves he noticed earlier would have had some comment, but he lost track of them, now unaware if they were ahead or behind. It was the same with the human he thought might be a priest or something and the Dwarf he meant to speak with. When it comes to socializing, traveling companions come and go too frequently for Torinn, but he could certainly do without the uninvited conversation of his disembodied acquaintance.

When at last he comes to the branch from the High Road, he pauses. Torinn had been told that for his best chance at finding anything in the Sword Mountains, he should ask around at Leilon, Triboar, or Phandalin. He had been distracted so often, he only now realizes that he still needs to decide where to start. He reasons that since Phandalin lies somewhat in the middle of the three, he'll head that way first and radiate outward. With luck, he'll find this shrine or temple, whatever, and the wise clerics of Sardior will unburden him of this unavailing spirit before it asks any more stupid questions. Before that, though, he needs to find a job.

Torinn stretches his sandy-colored chin and raises his burgundy eyes to the sun for a second, rolls his shoulder muscles causing the coils of his mail to clink against the Dwarven shield and axe strapped to his back for travel, and shifts the chest to the other shoulder so that the edge stops rubbing his neck scales for a spell, then carries on.

[JNAProductions]

Heart is humming to herself as she comes near the dragonborn on the road. "Hello there, fellow traveler!" she calls out. "On the trail to Phandalin?" she asks.

When he turns to face the voice, he sees a short tabaxi woman-not more than five feet tall, with auburn fur. Her eyes are a piercing green, and she's dressed in comfortable, well-fitted leathers. She has plenty of pockets, as well as a shortbow strapped to her back and a rapier on her side. "And who you talking to? I hope the heat's not getting to you."

[Imbalance]

Torinn was about to be terse again when he considers that this smallish person may have actually spoken to him. Verbally. He commits to a reply, "yes," before regretting that he might have already divulged too much information to some sort of trickster fey, and he was not prepared for that kind of foolery this day. But in a moment he regarded her fully, and felt embarrassed at not having noticed her sooner. Perhaps that had been her design, but he relaxed and humbled himself as he continued.

"I've never been there before. Uh...you must have heard me cursing my poor navigation - it's not the heat... Is that where you're going?"

[JNAProductions]

Heart nods. "I've become aware of some dwarves needing help there. I know some dwarves from my home-traveling merchants-so I'm curious if this group here is related at all. I know that the clans have a lot of family ties amongst themselves, but you enver know."

[Zero Prime]

Tharandiir al'Iriden, Knight of Myth Drannor AC: 17 (18) | HP: 11 | CURRENT: 11 | HIT DIE: 1d10 | CURRENT: 1d10 PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 12 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 10 | INSPIRATION: None. ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. Tharandiir surveyed the road, the Lady Feliicissima revealed the purpose of their travel, merely that her duty demand she travel the High Road north, towards the Blackford Road. The knight-aspirant did not like the fact that his charge concealed the purpose of the journey, however, given her noble birth, and her demeanor he decided it was better to observe, and wait to determine the Lady's motives on his own. As they crested a hill, he saw two figures on the road ahead, both shorter, one thing and wiry, the other stocky and broad. He placed a hand across the road, cautioning Maecilla to proceed with caution, his hand on the hilt of his sword, he approached, his shield at the ready, speaking in common, "Greetings travelers, what purpose brings you to this harsh branch of the High Road?" The man addressing Heart and Torinn was a tall slender elf, with hair of pale gold, long and worn in an intricate braid. He wore tooled leather armor, decorated with delicate boughs, leaves and vines that commonly adorned elven crafts. A cloak of midnight blue fell from his shoulders, and the shield facing the pair was blue, with a series of crescent moons and stars designating it's bearer as a member of a knighthood dedicated to the Seldarine, the lords and ladies of the elven people.

[Imbalance]

Before he can converse and expound on his own Dwarvish connections, Torinn hears a clear voice and looks toward the source. At first he is relieved that there is, indeed, someone there to speak it, until he notices the Elf's stance. Were these the two from earlier? Probably not, unless they changed clothes. The guards at Neverwinter had posted warnings about bandits, but he didn't think to expect this.

Somewhat instinctively, he steps to place himself between the Tabaxi he just met and the approaching swordsman.

"My purpose is my own, and includes self-preservation. I mean you no harm, but if you draw...so shall I," he states, calmly, with full eye contact.

[JNAProductions]

"We're not enemies here," Heart says. "There's no need for any of us to be hostile. So, hello there, stranger! I am Heart, and this is... Hrm, I don't think we actually properly introduced ourselves to one another, my scaled friend!"

[Awful]

"Oh, come now, al'Iriden," interjected an amused voice. It was a softly musical voice, in that way that elven voices so often were, with the iron-precise pronunciation of those who depend on clear syllables to prevent their spells from exploding them into a shade of the colour blue. "Lower your shield, we'll look like boors."

The speaker was a tiny, delicate being, almost ethereal. The high elf, Lady Maecillia Vitalis Felicissima, was a scant couple of inches above four feet tall; her hair was a deep golden shine, her eyes a molten gold in a heart-shaped alabaster face shadowed by a highly fashionable red-and-gold sunhat. The gold thread woven into her fine crimson silk longcoat glinted in patterns of floral patterns in the parching sun, and she took enough light steps forward she could proffer the back of her gauntleted hand. The signet ring on her slender armoured finger caught the light as she offered her hand for the strange pair to kiss.

She looked terribly young and fragile to be out on the roads with but a single knight - no matter how proficient - for her protection, and most elves would agree that she was, though she was older than both the beings before her put together.

"I," she said grandly, her air still amused like a cat cornering a mouse, "am the Lady Maecillia Vitalis Felicissima, scion of House Felicissima." Her tone turned even more mischeveous. "My friends call me Mae, so you may, of course, address me as milady or Lady Felicissima. This tall and dangerous fellow here is the good knight Tharandiir al'Iriden, a knight of Myth Drannor."

[JNAProductions]

Heart steps towards the knight. "Tharandiir, do you have a nickname? It's a bit of a mouthful to manage all the time. But it's a pleasure to meet you!" she says, holding her hand out for a shake.

She doesn't acknowledge the presence of the snooty Lady, preferring instead to be with those who are more friendly.

Spoiler: OOC

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Now, I 100% don't want any major IC conflicts. But Heart is a very down-to-earth person, and so doesn't really truck well with snooty nobility.

When we get into fights, you can be assured that Heart will fight claw and bow to keep the Lady safe, as well as everyone else. But if she acts snooty, she'll get the sass. :P

[Kvard51]

Durnik Coppersmith felt like he was he was making good time. Since he had been contacted by Gundren Rockseeker about meeting him in Phandalin for some work, he had managed to get his kit together and make it from Neverwinter all the way to the turn-off that would lead to his destination. He smiled to himself, proud of his progress. The smile faded, though, as he approached the fork and saw what appeared to be a standoff between two elves, a Dragonborn, and one of the cat people. Not wanting to be held up by a pitched battle in the middle of the High Road, he decides to stick his nose where it really doesn't belong...

"Well met, fellow travelers! Where might ye be headed on such a fine, sunny day?"

[Zero Prime]

Tharandiir al'Iriden, Knight of Myth Drannor AC: 17 (18) | HP: 11 | CURRENT: 11 | HIT DIE: 1d10 | CURRENT: 1d10 PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 12 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 10 | INSPIRATION: None. ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. In response to the tabaxi's comment, Tharandiir arched a pale, flawless brow, "A nick ... name?" He paused, to consider the request, "I am afraid I am unsure of what you mean, in my culture we address our peers by their given name," he once again spoke his name, enunciating it clearly. "I apologize if my trade speak is accented, I am not often given cause to speak the language of the younger races." He lowered his shield, however, those with training in the warrior's arts would quickly realize he had not entirely lowered his defenses, given his stance, and position in relation to the Lady Felicissima. The interaction was interrupted by a dwarf, and the tall elf only nodded in his direction. "Greetings to you Master Dwarf." He looked to the younger elf cautiously, curious what she would think of the coincidental meeting between strangers.

[JNAProductions]

She nods, and says, in Elvish...

Spoiler: Elvish

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"If you'd like to be addressed by Tharandiir, that's alright. But are there any abbreviations you're comfortable with?"

She then switches to Dwarven, addressing the newcomer.

Spoiler: Dwarven

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"Hello, friend! We're traveling... Erm, wait,"

Finally, she goes back into the Common tongue, and says "Both my scaly friend and I are on our way to Phandalin. We've our own reasons, but traveling is both safer and more enjoyable with company. With that in mind, I've no objections to you friendly folk joining us."

[Imbalance]

"Friend? I..."

"Boars...? Mae, I..."

"Thar...an...deer..."

"Ah, well m..."

"Younger races...?"

"Speaking Elvish and Dwarvish...?"

Doing his best to keep up, Torinn finally looked to get a word in and introduce himself when it happened again. "Whisht!" he hushes. "I'm with people now!"



He sighs with embarrassment, gently sets his luggage down, and bows to all, saying, "My apologies. I am Nemmonis, my clan, of the Dragonborn of Tymanther. Torinn is my given name. I, too, am on my way to Phandalin, and would be honored to share the road if you'll have me."

[Zero Prime]

Tharandiir al'Iriden, Knight of Myth Drannor AC: 17 (18) | HP: 11 | CURRENT: 11 | HIT DIE: 1d10 | CURRENT: 1d10 PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 12 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 10 | INSPIRATION: None. ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. Tharandiir inclined his head slightly as the others introduced themselves, a measure of respect, or at the very least, understanding between those gathered at the crossroads. He pasued as the tabaxi, Heart, and the Dragonborn, Torin spoke. Considering their words, he looked sternly towards his charge, and then back to the travelers. "It is amendable, we will acompany you as far as this, Phandalin. It is true, there are those who would, foolishly, seek to delay Lady Felicissima's progress, and, as stated, there is strength in numbers to deter those who seek to do so." He moved towards the vanguard of the group, his shield still ready, but his eyes now did not scan his companions, but the road as he continued to move forward. Eventually he pulled even with the dragon kin, "Torrin, of Clan Nemmonis, of the Tyrmanthir dragonborn." Another respectful nod, "If it so please, tell me of yourself, I know little of your people, and less of yourself. Conversation shortens the road, and strengthens the bond, yes?"

[JNAProductions]

Heart lets herself fall a little behind the knight, walking with a spring in her step. "I'm interested too. Tell us about yourself-whatever you'd like to share."

[Imbalance]

Following Tharandiir's lead, Torinn dons his shield before hoisting the trunk again. He felt that the less said, the better, but upon the prodding of two fellow travelers, he acquiesces.

"Well, miss, sir, while mine is a proud line of freedom fighters who have deposed tyrants and thwarted slavers, that was a long time ago on another world. My entire country was transposed to this land before my time, and although your world has been spared the devastation of draconian rule, it does have its own share of turmoil, as I've found." He warms to his theme with each step, eventually divulging a bit of his respectable (though not too adventurous) resumé.

"It was my understanding that the elders of my clan meant for me to have more of a diplomatic role when I agreed to hire on with the Gauntlgrym Dwarves, but my services ended up being more...hands on. Although I was occasionally consulted as a voice of my kin, it was more often my honor to present the merits of my people by hunting monsters in the old mines, helping to rescue miners from cave-ins, or even do some digging myself. Where some may be overtaxed or even harmed working beneath a live volcano, my ancestry made me an asset, and I strove for excellence in all that they asked of me."

A sly grin grew toward the sides of his face as he added, "but I especially enjoyed comparing wrestling moves with those stout folk. Strong, they are. I'm not too proud to admit that on more than one occasion, I was bested by as few as three Dwarves. Ha! Glorious sport, wrestling!" he proclaims. "Tell me, good knight, what sort of competitions do you enjoy? Are you a wrestler?"

[Zero Prime]

Tharandiir al'Iriden, Knight of Myth Drannor AC: 17 (18) | HP: 11 | CURRENT: 11 | HIT DIE: 1d10 | CURRENT: 1d10 PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 12 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 10 | INSPIRATION: None. ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. Tharandiir listened astutely as the dragon-blooded warrior spoke, an envoy of his people sent to live amongst the dwarven kind as an ambassador, and warden to those he served. Interesting indeed. As the talk moved to wrestling, the tall, lithe elf simply shook his head, "Nothing so brutal as wrestling I am afraid. I practise the courtly arts," a note of arrogance perhaps, "I studied at the arcanuum, to avail myself of the theorems of magick and sorcery, poetry, dance, and the harp. Proficient with bow, spear and blade, I have participated in many a hunt through the Cormanthyr forests, and find a certain joy in the quiet solitude of nature, and a majesty in one's quarry." He grew sullen as he talked of his home Myth Drannor, the full, dark knowledge of it's fall still weighing heavily upon his mind. An attempt to shine light on the shadows of his mind, he changed the subject. "And while my home is no longer, some of her arts have been preserved, including," he patted his backpack gently, "a bottle of fine elven wine I would be honored to share with my companions once we reach our destination."

[JNAProductions]

"I've never drank before," Heart comments. "Well, that's a lie-I've tried some dwarven ales, that traders have brought, but they're not for me. I lack the iron constitution needed to enjoy the flavor."

Spoiler: Insight Check

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On Torinn's story about needing to be taken on by three dwarves at once to lose.

1

Oh look at that, Heart believes him entirely. :P

[Awful]

Mae gave a tinkling laugh, raising her gauntlet to cover her mouth.
"Ah, well," she said airily. "One can't expect manners from a cat."

As the dwarf arrived, her glance slid between the dragonborn, the tabaxi, the dwarf, and her own companion. It was a delightfully disparate group.
"My, my, quite the little group we're assembling. Well, it's more interesting than open road, at least."

She listened in with interest to the dragonborn's little speech, but her golden eyes were watching the dwarf. She was amusing herself by clicking her fingers, and opening her hand to reveal a tiny gold statuette of the dwarf - seemingly practicing giving it finer and finer details before each time it crumbled into dull dust after a few seconds, blowing away in a non-existant wind. Such little trinkets were easy to make - but making something last was harder indeed.
"Oh, yes. Your kind were transposed here during the Spellplague, if I recall. Interesting stuff," she said neutrally to the dragonborn. "I have made some small study of magic myself, you see. I always found it much more preferable to hitting people with sharpened bits of metal - or, indeed, wrestling with them."

[JNAProductions]

Heart says "I give everyone their due respect. A presumption of respect, unearned, is a sure sign that someone's a bit too full of themselves. You might be from noble stock, but it's noble deeds and a valorous heart that make someone great; not blood thin as water."

[Zero Prime]

Tharandiir al'Iriden, Knight of Myth Drannor AC: 17 (18) | HP: 11 | CURRENT: 11 | HIT DIE: 1d10 | CURRENT: 1d10 PASSIVE PERCEPTION: 12 | PASSIVE INSIGHT: 10 | INSPIRATION: None. ACTIVE EFFECTS: None. CONDITIONS: None. Tharandiir cast a withering glare at the rogue, speaking in elven, "Caution tabaxi, despite your knowledge of our language, you do not know our people. You address a noble of House Felicissima, seventh among the great houses of the Tel'Quessir. One would do well to show a scion of the High Houses respect." His face softened as he switched back to the common tongue, "Please."

[JNAProductions]

"Just because someone has noble standing does not mean they should look down on others. A good royal knows their job is to help the people, not to lord over them. But..." she says. "I might've come across a little harsh. Maybe we can start again."

Heart clears her throat, and turns to face the elvish woman. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Heart Cliff, daughter to the shaman of the Cliff tribe. And you are?"

[Imbalance]

While Torinn had been schooled in the history of his own people and theories about how they came to exist on this world, most of the details of how this land had been scarred has only been revealed to him during his travels. He notices the Elf's demeanor, not fully familiar with those place names, but with empathy for their plight. He quietly hopes that Tymanther is not widely viewed as part of the cause of such calamitous events.

Torinn nods in approval at the lady's and her protector's thirst for excellence, then grins with amusement at the further interaction between these highbrows and the brash and inquisitive Tabaxi. He also comes to realize that he hadn't heard the name of the last fellow to join them, so he turns to the Dwarf as the others carry on.

Gesturing, he inquires of Durnik, "has your prior journey been as lively as this?" Then, in Dwarvish, "how is it with your clan, sir?"

[Awful]

The aforementioned noble of House Felicissima, seventh among the great houses of the Tel'Quessir, gave an amused little chuckle. This time, she gave a tiny bow - barely more than an incline, but to do more would be incorrect for their relative positions.
"Well met, Heart of the Cliff Tribe. I am the Lady Maecillia Vitalis Felicissima, noble and arcanist, scion of the honoured House Felicissima, otherwise known as the House of the Long Dawn or theShining House."

[JNAProductions]

"What brings you out here?" Heart asks as the group walks. "My mother is, as I mentioned, the shaman of my tribe. She foretells the future, in broad strokes, at least. But I wasn't gifted with the Sight she has. So she and Agate, who leads our tribe, decided with me that I should travel, as Agate did in his youth. I mean, he's pushing 80, so he wants to have someone else who's been around to be able to advise the tribe when he passes. So here I am, traveling the world, meeting new people, making new friends, and all that good stuff."

[Kvard51]

Durnik watched the interplay between the Tabaxi and the two elves with a slight scowl. Both races tended to arrogance, and he was watching it in action right in front of him at a dusty crossroad. He turned to the Dragonborn, "And a good day to you, sir. You should visit the dwarves of Mirabar. It's possible you might lose a fall to as few as two dwarves, or even one! The dwarves of Mirabar are from heartier stock, I'm sure, than those what comes from Guantlgrym."

[Imbalance]

"Mirabar...I'm sure I've heard of it," Torinn remarked. "Far to the north and under the Spine Mountains, right? I should surely like to see a Dwarven city whose ancient splendors haven't been befouled by denizens of the Underdark." He pauses for a moment to reflect on the rumored threats beyond the scope of his former employment, how the deepest depths of lost, found, and contested Gauntlgrym were said to still be occupied by the so-called "dark elves" and worse.

"He hasn't said," Torinn says beneath his breath before turning back to this traveler. With a heartier voice, he implores, "so, what brings you so far from home? I didn't catch your name, by the way."

[Awful]

"A few reasons," Mae responded easily. "One is that it's so much more interesting to see things for yourself than read about them in books, isn't it? My family's estate library is quite comprehensive, but text and sketches alone can't quite display the full nature of something, can they?"
She smiled, small and satisfied.
"And so I decided to go see them, and my honoured father and mother arranged sturdy Sir Tharandiir here to accompany my whimsy, so as to avoid me catching an - axe to the head, or whatevr barbaric fate they imagined might befall me.

[JNAProductions]

"Mm," Heart responds. "That's fair. Are you able to fend for yourself, or do you absolutely need the good Sir with you?"

After a beat, she realizes that might've come off a bit oddly. "I'm just curious, that's all. I've heard that the elven nobility values courtly combat, so I'd assume you've SOME training in the arts of fighting, but I don't really know how much."