Leilon

2nd day of Eleasis (Highsun), 1481

Each of you has your own reasons for coming to Leilon, but fate has decreed that you all arrive on the same day - the 2nd of Eleasis, 1481 DR. A long string of gorgeous weather ends the morning you lay eyes on the small mining town, as cloudy skies give way to the biggest downpour of the last couple months.

Despite your arrival being unannounced, you are treated as though expected. Guards at the town entrances barely spare a glance before directing you to the town square to "report in with the Captain".

Leilon isn't much to look at - mostly a collection of stone cottages with thatched roofs surrounded by an earthen rampart and defended land-side by wooden palisades. One feature that does immediately catch your attention is the tall stone tower which rises up from the middle of town, clearly far older than the structures you pass as you hastily make your way down the streets, eager to get out of the rain.

Upon arriving at the town square, you notice a large tent has been set up. A hastily-made wooden sign is hammered into the ground outside, upon which the word "Registration" is painted in large letters. Each of you assumes this is where you are meant to be. The inside of the tent is bustling with activity, as several adventurers huddle in conversation, sheltered from the downpour by the temporary structure.

Near the back of the tent is a large desk, behind which sits a middle-aged male Human dressed in fine armour. The bags under his eyes and grizzly stubble on his face indicate his fatigue. The sheathed longsword by his side and elegant quill in his hand suggest that this is the Captain you were meant to report to. By his side, occasionally helping with this thing or that, is a young male Human squire.

Cain, you notice a short line beginning to form in front of the desk. You dodge your way past the other bodies in the tent and stand behind a Tabaxi male.

There's not much to look at when it comes to Cain. He's as generic a human as a human could get. Male, 6 ft. 11 in. brown hair combed over.

Wearing a dark cloak, hood fully worn, he stands in the line still holding onto the Call for Adventurers flier he snatched the day before, eagerly awaiting to get signed up and moving.

The Captain finishes jotting down the details of the individual who just walked away from the desk, then raises his eyes to the Tabaxi in front of Cain.

"Next!"

"Hmm, a Tabaxi? We don't see many of your kind around here. Come all the way from Chult, have you? What's your name?"

"Su'tali Captain, this one's name is Storm of Fire of the Boundless Jungle clan. I have travelled here from Port Nyanzaru of the Chultan Peninsula. I had desire to see the Jewel of the North, the one you call Neverwinter. But I heard talk of a Dragon. This one would like to know where I can find it."

"Find it?! You've got guts, I'll give you that much - but how about before we go wandering off to fight Dragons single-handedly, you give the Lances a hand with some more reasonable tasks. Ones that are less likely to result in cutting your visit to the Sword Coast very short. Have you any others with you, or have you come solo?"

"I hear you mentioning the dragon, Su'tali was it? I too have business with that dragon"

"Sir Dwarf, I must insist that you wait your turn. If you could patiently make your way to the back of the line, you'll have your opportunity to register like everyone else!"

"Ahem. My apologies, uh...Storm of Fire, was it? Please, continue."

"That is quite alright. I have travelled alone. The Dragon has peaked my interest and I desire to study its feeding grounds. However I understand the dangers behind such a thing for I have seen their powers in the jungles of Chult. If you have need of this one's skills for other work, I am willing."

The captain eyes you for a moment, seemingly sizing you up.

"Very well. Welcome to Leilon, Storm of Fire - the Lances are happy for your help. If you would just step to the side a moment, Geoffrey will get you situated shortly. Next!"

The captain motions for Cain to step forward.

"And you, what is your name? And from where do you hail?"

"Cain Vance, from Waterdeep. I'm hoping to join the adventurers heading north in hunt of the White Dragon ..."

The captain glances down at the flier and then back toward Cain

"My my, we have an especially bold group today, Geoffrey."

The squire standing beside him, who you have now gathered goes by Geoffrey, nods in agreement

"Let me clear up a couple of things. While the Lances have heard reputable reports of this White Dragon being spotted around the Northern Sword Coast, we are as yet unaware of its intentions and its whereabouts. For now, the work to be done is primarily in preparation, should the Dragon decide to attack, Tyr-forbid. I know that you hero types are eager to win your glory, but if you'd be willing to lend your hands in simpler matters first, we'll happily keep your name in mind should a Dragon-hunting expedition become necessary."

An amused half-smile appears upon his face as he says this, and you catch a slight note of sarcasm as he says the last couple of sentences.

_Cain ignores the sarcasm, sensing that simpler matters means the work the Lances are not very motivated to do themselves. However, at this point, he's willing to take any job._

"Sure, fine. Sign me up as long as we can start sooner than later."

"Oh, there'll be no problem there, I assure you. Plenty of work to go around when tensions are as high as they are. I assume you come alone, as well?"

He glances around Cain, looking to see if any other adventurers seem to be with him. All he spots is the lone Dwarf lined up behind him.

"These joints don't like this rainy weather as much as they used to"

The captain lowers his face into his empty palm, rubbing at his brow briefly before looking back up.

"You see something you like in your hand?"

"A hilarious jest, my Dwarf friend."

His demeanor does not seem to match his words as he says this, but for the time being he turns his attention back to Cain

"Is this Dwarf traveling with you?"

"No, sorry, we didn't travel together."

"Very well. Cain, if you wouldn't mind waiting over there with our Tabaxi friend, Geoffrey will attend to you both shortly. And now, Sir Dwarf - what is your name, and from where do you hail?"

"Name's Govath, son. I hail from the Forgearm clan, and feel free to use that joke. It'll crack up any weapons smith."

The captain scribbles the information down on his parchment.

"Thank you. And since you're the last adventurer I see before my desk, I think I can safely assume you are alone as well. Geoffrey, would you kindly introduce these three to the ranger?"

"At once, Captain Reynolds"

As the young squire leaves the captain's side, the three of you take a good look at the other adventurers you have been bundled together with. A grey Tabaxi with piercing red eyes, a male Human whose hood shrouds his face in darkness, and a stout Dwarf, large hammer poking out from under his cloak.

Geoffrey leads the three of you from the desk over to one of the far corners of the tent. You wind your way between other groups of adventurers, some of which you can tell have been together for some time, others who are meeting for the first time, much like yourselves.

"I'll be introducing you to Rowan. He's a wilderness guide, quite familiar with the area around here. He has volunteered to help the Lances with their preparations as well. Everyone's a little on-edge at the moment - it's been a very long time since a Dragon has been spotted in these parts. Many of the settlements around here just don't have any experience handling this type of threat. Goblins, sure - even Orcs now and then. But a Dragon?!"

You can tell that the young man is equal parts excited and terrified of the prospect of what might lie ahead for Leilon and the rest of the Sword Coast. Reaching the far corner of the tent, you catch a glimpse of the individual you are being led to.

"Hey Rowan - these are Storm of Fire, Cain and Govath. Captain Reynolds has assigned them to you. You're to get them situated here in Leilon, and then bring them to the barracks tomorrow morning."

"Well, these fine folks don’t look too green..."

"Name’s Rowan, I’ll be settin’ you up for the night before we head off on our little journey."

"I hope you fellas don't mind bunkin together, there's been a rash of new recruits in town with word of the dragon an all that. I have a room at The Sword of Leilon for tonight, if you need to restock supplies I can show you the Coster and Wynn's Wares later on."

"As you can see, you're in capable hands. I'll leave you all to get better acquainted, both with each other and our fair town. There'll be job postings up outside the barracks by tomorrow morning - get there early if you'd like you have your pick!"

Geoffrey walks off back toward the desk and Captain Reynolds, leaving the four of you alone in the corner of the tent.

"Su'tali Rowan, it is a pleasure to meet you. This one is called Storm of Fire. Like you, I was a guide in the lands where I come from. I look forward to your guidance. Turning to the others he says and it is a pleasure to meet all of you. I have just arrived to the Sword Coast and you all are my first acquaintances. I hope to learn much from each of you."

"Now that's a mouthful to say in a tight situation. My own name is rather too long to go by, I reckon you have a moniker?"

"How bout Storm. Or Fire... or Sof? Aw hell, if I'm being chased by a herd of orcs I'll end up yelling Cat..... no offense intended."

"You may use the name Storm. Or Fire. There have been many names used on me. Where I come from, I am an entertainer. My patrons call me all sorts, though most would call me Red Eyes. You may call me by what you see fit."

"Red eyes works jus fine. Jus fine."

"Let's get situated at the Inn, I can point you in the direction of supplies and you'll be free to wander the town tonight. I suggest bedding down early as the early roc gets the wyrm... heh"

"Red, Cain, Forearm, this way."

"As the group trudges through the rain, Storm approaches Rowan and asks; Rowan, how long have you worked with the Lances of Lielon I believe they are called?"

"Work with the Lances? Heh, I don't work with them, I'm merely a vagrant worker doin my rounds through the Sword Coast. I take groups through hard territory anywhere they pay a fair sum. Today just happens to be Leilon. I jus happen to have a...reputation the Lances admire, Red."

"And if you lot have your eyes set on that big ol dragon up in the mountains, well... I'll take ya there. But I ain't fool enough to take a fight to a dragon in its own territory."

"No amount of coin is gonna get me to try my hand at a dragon. You'd be wise to take the same opinion I reckon."

Rowan immediately senses three magical presences nearby - two coming from the direction of Cain, and one coming from the direction of Govath

"...cuz I know from personal experience... appearances can be deceiving..."

"This one is not particularly interested in the dragon itself though that may be of value. I have interest in seeing it's feeding ground in its lair. I do have an interest in creature bones. What better place for study than the lair of a dragon. If you know the way to the lair perhaps...you could point me the way?"

"That my furry friend, I do not know. Jus rumour at this point."

Rowan leads you down a wide road headed toward the docks. As you exit the small town square, you eyes are drawn to three shrines - one to Lathandar, one to Tymora, and a much more recently-constructed one to Tyr, planted firmly between them.

Looking to the horizon, you see that the docks of Leilon aren't very large. From this vantage point, you can see why - uneven shallows send up frequent rough waves near the shore, a hazard to any large ship carrying cargo. To your right looms the central tower, and as you catch glimpses between the thatch-roof cottages, you notice that the ground surrounding it - and in fact, the structure itself - seems to be completely dry. As you stand there, drenched yourselves, you take a moment to observe this phenomenon. Sure enough, though rain is falling above the tower, it seems to vanish into thin air before ever reaching the ground.

"Pausing a moment to observe the central tower, Cyan quickens his pace to match with Rowan

"You said you don't work for the Lances, but have you been in Leilon long? What is that tower in the center of the town?"

He points over to the central tower"

"Been to Leilon many a time, mate. So I know the area well. That there abandoned tower is known as the high tower of Thalivar.

and whispers for dramatic effect

...dark magic, wizards, curses...heh"

A little further down the road, Rowan stops outside a massive building - easily the biggest you've seen in Leilon since your arrival. Above the door, in large letters painted in gold, you read "The Sword of Leilon".

"Talking half to himself and half to no one in particular, Storm ponders;

An abandoned tower...don't suppose it would have a crypt of sorts. What sort of wonders could be buried there...

Storm nearly barrels into Rowan before stopping and looking up at the Sword of Leilon

Ah, is this to be our accommodations for the night? This one has spent the last long nights aboard a sea vessel and a proper bed would be most welcome."

"Coziest place in town if you ask me. Well, it's the only inn actually. Special discount for those adventurers registered to help the Lances."

"All this sightseeing in the rain is nice and all, but I believe it is dry on the other side of that door. So shall we go in ... hmm?"

As you open the door, you see a very small reception area - barely large enough for the four of you to stand in together without pressing right against the desk. Hanging on the wall behind the desk are hundreds of keys of various shapes and sizes, stretching from one end to the other. A female Human behind the desk turns around to face you, a gentle smile on her face.

"Welcome to the Sword of Leilon! My name is Lyla - I assume you three are new adventurers in town? We have a special discount for those who are here to help the Lances!"

""That would be us"

Cain says from behind Rowan, trying to make himself as small as possible in order to fit inside the reception.

"Would you have rooms available? I don't think I speak for just myself when I say we desperately need to dry off and freshen up.""

"Of course! Let me see..."

Lyla pulls out a thick piece of parchment, rolled up and loosely tied, from beneath the desk. Placing it down in front of her, she unfurls it, revealing some sort of incredibly complex diagram. For a second, you think it must be some sort of ritual script, or the scribblings of an insane prisoner...until you notice that the label at the top says "The Sword of Leilon - Room Map"

"Now, unfortunately we're booked a little too full to be able to get you four rooms adjacent to each other, but at least you'll have warmth and a comfortable bed for the evening!"

She pulls out a simple quill and etches down some notes on a separate piece of parchment already laid out on the desk, and then turns and begins scanning rows upon rows of keys, stopping every few seconds to pluck one from its resting place

After retrieving three keys, she turns and picks up a little brass bell on the desk and gives it a ring.

"Now, the rooms here can be a little bit hard to navigate to, but not to worry! Bronwyn will be along shortly to help you on your way. I trust you recall where yours is, Rowan?"

No sooner do you wink than a thin male Halfling appears in the hallway to your left. Glancing in either direction, you notice that the hallways seem to continue on forever, with several passageways extending off of each.

Bronwyn does something between a walk and a jog to reach the reception area, brushing off his coat all the while, until he is by your side.

"What exactly do you mean by the rooms are hard to navigate?"

1d20 (18) + 3 = 21
Does

"Well, you see...The Sword of Leilon used to be both an inn and tavern, many years ago, when Leilon was much smaller. Unfortunately, most of the inside was destroyed in a tragic fire. With Leilon growing in reputation and a place needed for visitors, new rooms were prioritized over drinking space. During the reconstruction, new taverns opened up in town. So slowly but surely, the drinking space was shrunk to make room for more rooms. And more rooms. Until eventually there was no drinking space at all - instead, just a whole lot of rooms not particularly well planned-out."

"When you gentlemen are ready, I will show you to your rooms."

""Double my room fee for tonight ... "

He whispers quietly to her, head slightly lowered

"... and no human stayed the night here."

Cain then leaves to keep pace with the party"

"Bronwyn was it? The mistress Lyla mentioned this building no longer serves as a tavern. Where would you recommend one to find good entertainment in town?"

"Brilliant idea there Storm, I second the motion of locating a tavern"

Lyla's expression grows puzzled as she stares back at Cain, but after a couple of seconds she gives a slight nod.

Bronwyn takes one brief look at each of your keys, and immediately sets off. How he is able to navigate this labyrinth of an inn with such sheer confidence is a mystery to you all, as you twist and turn left and right every few seconds, struggling to match his pace.

"Of course, sirs. Might I recommend the The Knight's Goblet? A fine establishment not far from the town square. You'll find that they specialize in fine meats and breads. Many visiting nobles are brought there to discuss trade and politics."

One by one, Bronwyn leads you to your rooms, leaving you with a little bow. Inside each, you find a small stove, a comfortable bed, and an empty wardrobe. The spaces aren't very large, but they'll do for a single person.

1d20 (3) + 2 = 5
Storm attempts to not get lost in the twisting halls of the Inn. This can't be worse than a jungle...right?

You spend about 10 minutes wandering the halls of the inn before nearly running into Bronwyn, who is zipping to rooms in a seemingly random fashion, delivering clean linens. He offers to bring you back to the entrance, and along the way, you run into a similarly lost Govath, standing at a four-way crossing scratching his head.

The two of you give a quick wave to Lyla on your way out, and upon exiting The Sword of Leilon, you see Rowan leaning under an awning on the other side of the road, smoking a cigar.

"What do you think of that place Storm, who knew they'd ever make a place as confusing as that.
Ah Rowan, do you know where The Sword of Leilon is?"

"Govath it is good to run into you again. The place is a maze, not unlike the ruins I have encountered deep in the jungles of Chult though this one is embarrassed that the halls have bested me. The room will do well, as I have spent the better part of a week aboard a ship in a smaller cabin than those rooms.

Upon approaching Rowan and hearing Govath's question, Storm interjects:

I believe our friend Govath meant to say...The Knight's Goblet? If you could guide us there that would be appreciated. And have any of you seen Cain? Perhaps he should join us so we can all be better acquainted before our task tomorrow."

"I have never hear of Chult, that is where you are from no? I think I overheard that when you were registering back with the captain. What is it like there?"

"How can you tell if someone is from Chult? ....heh, they'll tell you."

"This one thinks it best to talk over an ale in somewhere dry. Perhaps I can tell you all about it at the Tavern. Rowan, can you show us the way?

Storm takes mental note of Rowan's sacrastic joke"

"Sounds like a plan to me"

"I haven't seen the other fella leave the Inn, mayhaps we shoulda coordinated our plans more I reckon. Ah well nothin doin. Though I don't think the Knight's Goblet is the place you want."

"Oh? Know you a better place?"

"My friend,

Rowan pats him hard on the back and starts walking down the rain slick cobblestone,

...I know a place indeed."

Instead of heading back toward the town square, Rowan turns and begins leading you down a smaller road running parallel to the coast. The rain begins to lighten up a bit as you come to an area of town where the cottages are smaller and more densely packed together. Heading off the main road, you notice a large building from which you can already hear the noise of merrymaking. Hammered into the wall beside the door is a wooden sign reading "The Orc's Tusks"

"Welcome to the Tusks! A bit livelier than that stuffy Knight's Goblet. You won't be bored I can promise yeh."

"Wiping the rain from his eyes, Storm takes in the sight, smell and sounds of The Orc's Tusk

This place appears quite lively indeed. Good Rowan, this one believes you will be a great guide tomorrow...let us head in! I am eager to eat and drink what the Sword Coast has to offer! But more importantly, perhaps a few tales to be heard!

Storm struts into the tavern with a little extra flourish and showmanship than necessary"

You enter into the tavern to find it lively indeed. The place seems to be packed with half of Leilon as you take in the scene. Despite the hustle and bustle, however, one thing immediately draws your eye: on one wall of the tavern, hanging dead-center, is a large Orc skull mounted on an ornate plaque, impeccably preserved. Impaled on one of the tusks appears to be a large fish. On the other, there hangs what appears to be soiled undergarments.

"Now this is a place. Let's get ourselves a table and a fine round of food and drink."

1d20 (6) + 4 = 10
*Rowan

The proprietor of the Tusks is easier heard than seen, most of the time. You manage to pick out her voice from the crowd...

"Boy? BOY?! Where are you, Boy??!"

Her shouts grow louder until eventually you catch a glimpse of her stomping around the other patrons, looking this way and that.

"Looking towards the orc head mounted on the wall, Storm's showmanship strut slows as he studies it from afar, looking a little uneasy.

Your lands have...interesting taste in decor. I have a few orc friends. But this one thinks perhaps orcs from across the Shining Sea are more civilized than here on the Sword Coast. Guide Rowan, you do not think they will look at my...characteristics and think to mount it on their wall too?"

Rowan studies the trepidation in the large feline eyes of his charge, and the side of his mouth holding the cigar widens into a lazy grin.

"Nah, there's nothing to worry about for any common speaking intelligent person in this land. Though your people certainly stand out around here, the worst you'll probably get is rude curiosity."

"Jus' watch you're tail, mate. Literally."

Slipping his tail under his colorful cloak as best he can, he unloops his lute case from his shoulder and continues inward gesturing to Govath and Rowan

"Well in that case, this one has nothing to fear if the great guide says so! Let us find a place to sit, hopefully close to the hearth though it is quite crowded with those drying from the rain."

1d20 (5) + 3 = 8
Storm checks to see if there is an empty table by the fire. If not, he looks for an empty table in general...and if not that, than a table with some decent looking company.

Your eyes dart all over the large interior of the building. It's difficult to even see the tables for all the people standing around, laughing, drinking and dancing between them. After a couple of second, you notice a group stand up and begin moving through the crowd, and the three of you quickly make your way over to claim the table they just vacated.

Mara catches your eye and gives you a quick nod but carries on her search. Her yells get softer as she moves further away from you into the crowd.

"BOOOY!!!"

As Storm looks around, he hears faint lute playing coming from one of the corners of the tavern. Over the hustle and bustle, the faint sound of several voices singing a folk song can be heard, but you're unable to make out the words or see the lone musician who is playing.

Storm unclips the buckles holding his lute case closed and opens it. Inside is a quality looking lute instrument painted with vibrant colors to match his cloak. Quietly plucking at each string and adjusting the tuning, Storm settles himself

It appears guide Rowan knows the proprietor of this establishment. I trust him to get us the best drink to be had. In the meantime, tell me a tale of yourself Govath.

"A tale of myself. Hmm, there's not much to my tale as of yet. I'm quite certain actually that if I were to tell you a tale in any modicum of detail you'd find yourself face down on the table sleeping like a wee babe. So I will keep it brief. I've spent my life forging weapons, and of that life have spent the last quarter century crafting this here war hammer he says while touching the hilt of the hammer rising above his shoulder . The magic of dwarves and elves has been placed upon this hammer that it might acquire the strength of a dragons breath. This will be my legacy after I am gone. His eyes start to focus on something far away. As it is, the dragon is what has brought me here to risk life and limb to finish this hammer, now that would be a story worth telling. Shaking his head and focusing back on the room Govath turns back to Storm and asks. So what is it that brings a tabaxi to these parts of the world?"

Storm of Fire listens carefully to Govath's story, sharp red-orange eyes staring intently while tuning his Lute. He nods at each detail and though Govath believes the story may bore any common folk, Storm seems to be quite enjoying it. Upon the ending of the story, gives a slow head bow, climbs up on the table and strums his Lute

He begins to sing a tale...

♫♫♫
A grizzly dwarf who had the skill
To make creations meant to kill
But now inspired by events so tragic
He forged a hammer of maaaagic!
♫♫♫
Ping pang the anvil rang!
Slamming down as the metal rang!
To create a weapon fit for lore
As he forged his hammer of war!
♫♫♫
With ancient dwarf and elven power
The hammer waits upon the hour
For when the time has come for death
It shall be strengthen with Dragon's breath!
♫♫♫
Ping pang the anvil rang!
Slamming down as the metal rang!
To create a weapon fit for lore
As he forged his hammer of war!
♫♫♫
Now Govath's legacy shall live on
In stories and legends and tavern song
For he and hammer shall not grow dull
Once he smashes that Dragon's skull!
♫♫♫
Ping pang the anvil rang!
Slamming down as the metal rang!
To create a weapon fit for lore
As he forged his hammer of war!
♫♫♫

The song continues for a few more verses and once it ends, Storm takes a long deep bow

1d20 (18) + 5 = 23

"With a glimmer in his eyes Govath can almost picture the finished hammer after all of the countless hours of work

Impressive playing there Storm. I've never heard a weapon sung about so majestically before. Let us hope that this song will have a satisfying ending for the ages."

As Storm's song begins, a handful of nearby patrons take notice and incline their ears to listen. His skill on the lute and melodic voice do not go unnoticed. By the first chorus, you notice that several individuals are tapping toe to floor or finger to mug along with the beat of the music. Before too long, a small crowd has gathered around your table - some humming along with each repeat of the chorus, others grabbing partners and beginning to dance. At the song's conclusion, the majority of the tavern lets out an enthusiastic applause - and standing on the table, you see above their heads a frustrated male Half-Elf in the corner of the tavern, no longer surrounded by singing patrons, and no longer playing his lute. Several people drop pieces of copper into your open lute case - a total of 23, by the time the crowd thins.

As the applause dies down, Mara swings by the table and drops off four mugs of ale. She turns her attention toward Rowan...

"Your friend here is quite skilled at his craft - not often a Bard manages to catch that much attention in here. I daresay ol' Finneus isn't too happy about it, though."

She pauses and eyes the three of you sitting around the table.

"It...was four ales you ordered, right? Don't tell me my eyes are going dim."

Rowan notices the scowl on the other bard's face and can't help smiling.

"I reckon he'll jus' have to up his game, what with the new competition in town. Sadly we won't be staying long. And Mara, you know I have a larger stomach than it looks like."

He gives her a wink.

"Well alright then - just make sure you come settle up before your short stay comes to a conclusion. Oh, and if you see Boy around, would you send him back to the kitchen? I swear, if he got his leg stuck in the privy again, I am going to tear his left arm off!"

With this, she stomps away from the table, back in the direction of the kitchen.

Storm bows and waves to his audience, thanking them for their attention and their gracious gifts. For those that ask his name, he tells them he is Red Eyes, the bard! However Storm takes mental note of the Half-Elf sulking in his corner though has no sympathy for him. Once the crowd has settled back into the natural rhythm of the tavern, Storm puts down the Lute and turns his attention back his two companions.

"Your friend Mara seems nice. But a strange name for the boy she keeps shouting for. This one thinks to name a boy Boy is fairly peculiar though perhaps a custom in your lands?"

Turning back to Govath he continues the conversation...

"This one is pleased you enjoyed the tune. Perhaps they will sing it in taverns along the coast in your honor one day. To answer your inquiry about me, I simply came for something different. I will not bore you with details tonight, but I do come from the jungles of Chult. I have just arrived to your Sword Coast today and this is my first upon this part of the realm. I grew up in Port Nyanzaru, and like our good guide Rowan, I too am I guide for the land there. Of course when not doing that, I perform as you have witnessed."

Storm reaches into his cloak and produces a large thick tome, with a wooden cover and a spine made of a thick large bone. The pages are of quality paper and quill and ink are fastened to the top.

"In the jungles, I have discovered a rather enjoyable passion. I study and document bones."

He flips through several pages that depict drawings and notes on individual bones to full skeletal frames. From small rodents to large beasts.

"I have come to this part of your world to see new and fantastic beasts, monstrosities and wonders. This one wishes to document them in this Tome of Bones. The White Dragon, though dangerous as Dragons are, has stolen this one's attention. Imagine the pile of bones there will be in the Dragon's feeding ground...in it's lair!"

Storms eyes go wide with awe.

"A fellow guide, yeh say! Well mate, it'll be nice to have someone else who knows they're way 'round a forest."

Rowan picks up his flagon of ale and raises it in a toast.

"It's too bad our human friend can't be here for this, but, TO A FINE 'VENTURE WITH FINE COMPN'Y!"

"Govath raises his flagon

I'll cheers to that. To good company, and an adventure and stories to be made for the ages.

Govath downs his ale in one breath

So Rowan what made you want to be a guide?"

Storm of Fire raises his drink to the toast and adds...

"May the sun always guide you out of the jungle ta'shouva!"

He drinks modestly and turns his attention to Rowan to hear his tale.

"Well, Storm of Fire... you put things so eloquently I should let you do the talkin' from now on, heh"

He nods and takes a long drink of his ale, a newfound respect for the Tabaxi cementing itself in his mind.

"Guide Rowan, I do be interested in your tale as Govath is. Since you will guide us tomorrow on our task, it is good to know a few things about you. And as you can see, there might be a few coins to be made from it."

He grins and tosses one of the copper pieces he just earned.

"Perhaps if you give me something to work with, I will split the next round of earnings with you. Though that half-elf over there does not seem to like me very much..."

Rowan looks very uncomfortable having the attention suddenly centred on himself. He tips his chair back a bit and fidgets with his hat.

"Well there ain't much to say, I jus' grew up in the bush and know my way 'roun...."

His voice trails off, and he takes another swig.

"If its qualifications yer looking for, I've led parties from here, Neverwinter, Luskan, Merribar. Through Neverwinter wood, Lurkwood, hell even the High Forest which you'll have a hard time finding a guid'll take you through there. I'm good at what I do, real good. Yer in good hands, mate."

Storm settles himself and listens to Rowan over the rowdiness of the tavern. He notices that Rowan doesn't have much to say for himself, though his red-orange eyes stare intently with every word. He slowly nods through the brief tale and gives a slow bow of the head when Rowan finishes. Grabbing his Lute once again, he climbs up on the table, careful not to spill the drinks of his companions. As he slightly adjusts the tune of his instrument, he calls out to his audience...

"The bard Red Eyes has another tale to tell! Gather round and listen..."

♫♫♫
Oh, this is a tale of a man,
Who roams the land!
Who roams the land!
You never know where he is goin',
For he's the wandering Rooowan.
♫♫♫
On a mountain she was lost,
Winter's cold and gripping frost.
As she abandoned all her hope,
She looked upon that icy slope.

There he stood with hat of leather,
Hardly noticing the weather.
He picked her up and walked on down,
He brought her to the nearby town!
♫♫♫
Oh, this is a tale of a man,
Who roams the land!
Who roams the land!
You never know where he is goin',
For he's the wandering Rooowan.
♫♫♫
In a forest deep and dark,
The old man knew his life marked.
For circles he had walked around,
Until he tripped and then fell down.

The man was broken, oh so glum,
He knew that he should not have come.
But arms did pick him up that day,
And brought him on his merry way!
♫♫♫
Oh, this is a tale of a man,
Who roams the land!
Who roams the land!
You never know where he is goin',
For he's the wandering Rooowan.
♫♫♫
Upon a raging stormy sea,
A mother shouted out her plea,
For from the boat the waters stole,
They swallowed up her child whole!

And there he was, the man of himself,
He plucked that tiny little elf.
He sailed them back towards the shore,
They never saw him one time more!
♫♫♫
Oh, this is a tale of a man,
Who roams the land!
Who roams the land!
You never know where he is goin',
For he's the wandering Rooowan.
♫♫♫
And if you're ever lost yourself,
Call his name!
Call his name!
He always knows where YOU are goin'
For he's the wandering Rooowan!
♫♫♫

After finishing the tune, Storm takes another overly extravagant bow towards the audience and climbs down. Keeping the lute case open of course...

1d20 (19) + 5 = 24

"Laughing heartily and slapping the table Govath turns to his companions. If this is what we can look forward to each night, I think these next days will be very enjoyable. Say Rowan what's your fondest memory of where you have travelled?"

This second time, Storm has the entire tavern's attention from the moment he steps up on the table. The crowd around the table which had just recently dispersed returns twice as dense, and begins clapping and stomping along with the beat. By the time they disperse, another 37 copper pieces are ready to collect from the lute case.

"Yeh do me more honour than ya should, Red. I thankee the embellishments. And the fondest place I've travelled?"

He scratches his bearded chin.

"...it's all Home to me."

Around this time, a young Human male walks up to the table. He stares blankly past the three of you for a good 15 seconds as you turn your faces to acknowledge him. Just as you're about to inquire if there's something you can do for him, he bellows enthusiastically...

"GOOD EVELING! Well-cun to the Torb's Butts! Me is Boy. Boy are good. Anyfin Boy kin got for estreemed jests?"

His right boot and pant leg are suspiciously damp.

Rowan looks to his compatriots.

"I reckon yer hungry? The gentleman would kindly like to take your orders, fellas."

He puts a firm hand on Boy's shoulder.

"Remember my usual, mate?"

Storm studies Boy the boy, unsure of what to make of him. But the signs of his low intelligence are quite clear.

"Ah yes, this one would take your house special. I desire to eat a Leilon delicacy. Thank you ... Boy?"

He then shuffles all his copper earnings into his coin pouch.

"Same here, I'll have whatever the daily special is."

Boy stares blankly for another 10 seconds or so before giving a slow nod. He sets off...in the direction of the Tusks' entrance. Thankfully, a local notices him and turns him back in the correct direction.

A few moments later, Mara returns to the table with several wooden slabs balanced on her arms, dishes atop each. She sets one down on the table containing two specials - large portions of whitefish and roasted vegetables, all drizzled with a white, creamy sauce - and Rowan's usual order: a heaping pile of roast beef, slathered in gravy and cheese, served with a side of grilled asparagus and a fresh dinner roll.

"Thankee, Mara," giving her a wink "Best service for 100 miles as always."

Waiting for her to leave, he pushes his cutlery aside and produces his own hunting knife and fork from a pocket on his satchel.

"I would avoid the cutlery here if I were you. Boy sometimes gets put on dishwashin' duty."

"Kla'kalli Mara, this looks exactly what we have been hoping for. "

Heeding the advice of their guide as one should do when a guide suggests something, Storm pushes aside the cutlery and chooses to eat with his claws. As he eats the white fish in particular, you notice how carefully he does. Not to ensure cleanliness but to preserve the bone structure of the fish. With each bone removed, he places it the same way on the table.

"Guide Rowan, what can you tell me of this fish. What is it called? Where are they caught? What season?"

As he asks various specific questions, he opens his Tome of Bones to an empty page and begins sketching out the skeletal frame of this fish.

1d20 (18) + 1 = 19

"Looks like a local trout prolly caught just past the shallows. Prime season for that was beginning of summer, so it's a bit late but a lucky catch I reckon."

1d20 (15) + 3 = 18
_After

As Govath gets up, Storm produces a set of bone dice and says he can teach him a few gambling games from his homeland sometime. Though not tonight as he fears he himself will stay up all night playing. Instead, Storm orders a second round for himself and relaxes, trying to listen to what everyone around him are saying. Trying to pick out the good details and worthy information.

"Well Rowan, it may be wise not to spend too much time here tonight. Perhaps one more drink for this one and then back to the Sword of Leilon. I wish to have a real rest before the work begins."

1d20 (4) + 3 = 7
Storm tries to overhear any decent information while conversing with Rowan.

"I look forward to learning a different way to gamble. I am sure there will be plenty of time to learn it in the days to come."

It takes some time with the Tusks as crowded as it is, but you manage to flag down Boy and get your remaining orders in. When you let him know you want to settle up, he tells you all that the price is "3 buttons, 5 pieces of string and sumfin shiny"...thankfully, Mara overhears this and sternly reminds Boy that she handles the tabs, before shoving him back in the direction of the kitchen.

You each settle up (Rowan - 5sp, 2cp, Storm - 3sp, 8cp, Govath - 3sp, 4cp) with Mara, and while Rowan and Storm relax and nurse their new drinks, Govath finds a particularly rambunctious group of gamblers at a large round table not far from yours, and settles in for a game. All-too-eager to earn coin from an unsuspecting newcomer, he is welcomed with open arms.

The tavern being as crowded as it is, Storm is only able to pick out bits and pieces of the many conversations occurring around the table. He hears a couple of snippets that catch his attention: "Strange magic in the Neverwinter Wood...ancient ruins...ages lost..."

"What we playing tonight?"

Rowan nurses the pint of ale, makes sure Boy gets his shiniest silver piece and tips his chair back in relaxation. Turning to his Tabaxi charge,

"If yeh think you can find y'way back to the Sword yer abliged to get all the sleep yeh need. I reckon I need to stay til our short friend has had his fill of the towns revelries. Make sure he don't get lost."

Finishing up his second drink, Storm packs his lute and Tome of Bones, satisfied that his first entry of the Sword Coast is complete; a Leilon Trout!

"Govath seems like a good man. This one has guided a dwarven archeological group once. It is good that you keep an eye on him, I learned they like to drink a little too much sometimes. I think I can find my way back to the Sword. Fetafu'den Guide Rowan."

Stepping out into the evening, Storm considers making a detour...but the the thought of a full night rest on solid ground sounds more appealing. He heads back towards the Sword of Leilon, satisfied with the evening events with his first acquaintances.

You hear plenty of laughter and hearty conversation coming from the nearby table where Govath partakes in a spot of gambling. After some time, he comes back to the table, a smile upon his face.

"Well let us hope that this job tomorrow provides us with some fresh coin to spend. Still laughing time himself Govath says to Rowan. I think I will head back to the inn now. Where was it we are to meet in the morning?"

Rowan downs the dregs of his flagon and gets up.

"I'll be headin' back with yeh. I'll be up early just outside the Inn."

You catch Mara's eyes open wide at the generous gesture just as you're walking away. She quickly pockets the gold piece and goes about cleaning the table for the next guests.

The two of you make your way back to The Sword of Leilon. Lyla greets you at the front desk.

"Welcome back! Would either one of you like me to ring for Bronwyn? Your friend returned earlier and seemed to have a spot of trouble finding his room..."

"Mighty fine of you, if you would."

Lyla rings the bell on the desk, and a moment later Bronwyn appears by your side. He leads you easily down the countless hallways, never pausing at an intersection or referencing a single map. Shortly, both of you are in your respective rooms, settling in for the night.

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3rd day of Eleasis (Highsun), 1481

Each of you wakens bright and early, mindful of Geoffrey's warning that the better jobs tend to get claimed quickly by other adventurers. Making your way (with some difficulty) back to the entrance of The Sword, you settle up with Lyla (a mere 3sp each, with the adventurer discount) and head outside to meet your new companions.

The weather is fairer today, the clouds slowly spreading to allow bits of sun to come through. It's a welcome change being able to see the coastal down in proper daylight. The four of you take a moment to breath in the clear coastal air as you stand just outside The Sword's entrance.

Lyla takes the extra coins with a nod, and asks no further questions.

As each of you emerges from The Sword in turn, Rowan greets you with a nod, already taking in the morning sun, cigar hanging loosely from the side of his mouth.

"Mornin', I trust you all are well rested and eager to get a look at the job postings. Since The Sword doesn't serve brekkie we can get food supplies after the job board, if that suits yeh."

"Govath inhales deeply and stretches his back, causing multiple loud cracking noises. Job board sounds good to me. Hey Cain glad to see you made it out of that inn despite the maze of halls."

Storm stretches in the brief moment of sun before a covers it again.

"Food after the job posting sounds like a smart idea. It would be good to get the first choice at the jobs the Lance are offering. Let us see your guidance in action!"

He motions for Rowan to lead the way.

"Su'tali to you Cain, it is good to see you this morning. You did miss out on good action at the tavern last night though. This one did have slight trouble finding the room last night. A wrong door may have been opened to a fully naked Half-Elf sleeping. It was...unpleasant."

"Thanks", he says to the dwarf, "Govath was it?"

Turning to the tabaxi, "It's rare to see your kind this way. I've only ever met one other in my travels. What's your nickname?"

"And sorry for not joining everyone last night, I get headaches when the weather is less than pleasant."

The four of you now together, Rowan begins to lead the way, heading to the North end of town as your conversation continues.

"That is indeed my name. Headaches eh, my arthritis just acts up a bit. Govath says to Cain as walking."

"Ah very nice, what was the other's name and of what clan if you can recall? You can call this one Storm. Or Fire. Or Red Eyes, which is my more commonly used bard name. Or just Red. Or Eyes. Or whatever pleases you. I believe Guide Rowan wishes to call me...Cat."

"Hm, he never spoke of his home. His name was Glittering Pond, and we met and travelled together on a ship a few years ago."

Cain says as he follows Rowan towards the jobs board.

"Oh that is interesting. I hope Glittering Pond gave a good impression of my kind."

Turning to Rowan he adds...

"Guide Rowan, once we are done at the job postings, perhaps you can show us the way to Coster and Wynn's Wares. This one may need a few more things before we embark on our task."

"If the job allows for the time, certainly. I reckon we'll be out of this town before noon."

"Fear not, shopping is not a big interest of mine. I prefer a quick in-and-out."

Adjusting his heavy hood, Cain says, "I'm not a big shopper myself", as he quietly taps his nearly empty coin purse.

"The sooner we're on the road, the better."

Rowan leads the party back past the High Tower of Thalivar, and eventually you pass through the town square once more. You see Captain Reynolds and Geoffrey pinning back the flap of the large tent, preparing to accept the day's wave of fresh adventurers.

Continuing on past the southern gate (which is no gate at all, really, but an opening in the palisade which leads to the High Road and, eventually, to the Mere of Dead Men), you find that the town is quiet at this hour of the morning. Few people roam the streets, though you catch glimpses of shopkeepers beginning their opening routines and an occasional carriage passes by. Looking around, you could almost forget about the threat which currently looms over the land, if it weren't the reason you were here to begin with.

In time, you come upon the barracks. It would appear you are the first adventurers to arrive - in fact, the large wooden board outside of the well-fortified stone building doesn't seem to have anything posted to it yet. Inquiring with the two guards standing duty by the entrance, you are informed that the day's postings will be up momentarily, and that you are welcome to wait.

Just as you settle in, you notice five figures approaching from the opposite direction you came from. The woman in front is toying with a small flame in her hand.

"Well well well, what have we here?"

Behind her, an older Half-Orc scratches his beer-belly as he eyes you up and down

"Look's ta me like a buncha green 'venturers. Like fresh li'l Orclings slurpin' at their mama's teat."

A thuggish man steps forward from the group, brandishing a large mace. He speaks through gritted teeth as his hand slowly moves toward the hilt.

"This gonna be a problem? Maybe we should..."

"Now now, Jabarl, you can't just go about crushing the skull of every adventurer we come across. Besides, do they really look like a threat?"

A muscular woman with long, black hair and piercing blue eyes stares at you all with something between a smirk and a scowl. She towers over the others, easily over seven feet tall. By her side is another silent companion, dressed in hooded black clothes and absentmindedly twirling an arrow in his hand.

Rowan crosses his arms and blows a large cloud from his nose.

"If yeh fine folks can see, we have been waiting here upon witness of the Lances," gesturing to the two guards. "and since I don't know yeh, I doubt you know me. Wouldn't be wise to start something righ' off the bat with such an unknown element dontcha reckon? Green would be the proper word...."

Storm rolls his eyes at the half-orcs remarks.

"Half-orc, do you kiss your mother with that mouth? I think I saw her head mounted at The Orc's Tusk. I'm sure you know the place quite well with an ale-packed belly as big as yours."

"Govath let's out a long sigh and slowly shakes his head. Look fellas I enjoy bloodying my knuckles on strangers faces as much as the next dwarf, but none of us came here with the intention of fighting for a job. As with all job boards, first come first serve has served for longer than any of us have been alive. And as my companion has pointed out we were here first."

At this, the hooded figure speaks up - his accent hints at nobility and his tone drips with quiet arrogance.

""You see, Jabarl? Their only concern is the quality of errand upon which they are sent. They are little more than lapdogs in search of their next meal.""

""HA! You insult dogs by comparing 'em to these mewlin' kittens, Dobin. They could only aspire to be half as majestic, as beautiful, as...""

""We get it, Brakkis, you like dogs.

Listen, you pile of slag - you're welcome to choose whatever job you like. But if you have any designs on taking the Dragon's hoard for yourselves, you'd better lay them to rest. That treasure belongs to the Stone-Cold Reavers, and you better believe we'll put down any runts that get in our way.""

""Syleen's right, younglings. That hoard is my retirement plan. I've been in this line o' work fer too long. It's time to settle down, buy a house, get myself a few dogs...""

Brakkis is interrupted by his companions' loud groans and rolling eyes. He decides to leave it at that.

"Don't want to speak on behalf of everyone here. But here's my proposal. If there is a posting to go find and kill the dragon we will hand it over to you. However, if there is no dragon hunting going on today we get first choice of the jobs."

Rowan's attention seems to be on the large silent woman, and his face flushes a scarlet red.

"Y-yeh see, we can all be ami-amica....amicable." His eyes dart to t ground and he tips his hat down lower over his eyes.

1d20 (20) + 2 = 22
From beneath his hood, Cain watches the engagement, and Rowan's reaction to seeing who the others call Syleen. Does he know her?

Syleen tilts her head to one side and looks at Rowan, grin on her face and eyes slightly narrowed.

"Something wrong with your friend there, Dwarf? He seems to have suddenly developed a stutter."

"The proposal is fine. Syleen, let's just wait over there until this lot has chosen their task."

Syleen nods, and the group begins moving a short distance away to talk amongst themselves. All except the giant woman, whose icy eyes stay locked on you all with heartless ferocity. You get the impression that in your short conversation, she has already dreamed up 50 ways to tear you all limb-from-limb.

"Runa! Let's go!"

"Hmph."

Finally, she turns to join her companions, leaving the four of you alone and out of earshot once more.

Waiting for the group to leave, Cain eventually turns to Rowan and casually asks, "Runa huh? Do you know her, she's a tough looking one."

Rowan stares as Runa walks away towards her group. He mutters under his breath, "blast it!" *suddenly noticing all eyes on him, "uh, someone say something?"

"Cain was just asking if you knew that large one"

"Oh, uh, nahhhh. Never seen'er." He coughs and clears his throat. "So they want that dragon you boys been talking about. What're ya gonna do about that?"

"Giving the stone-cold reavers an appraising eye over. I assume if they do run into the dragon it may end up more bones for our boy storm here to sort through."

"I reckon you need the dragon alive to get its breath on that hammer a'yours."

"Well I suppose if they do manage to kill the dragon I'll just have to start listening for news of another one. And anyway the captain seemed to laugh when the dragon came up in yesterday's registration making it seem the dragon is hard to locate."

Storm eyes each of the members of the Stone-Cold Reavers, already coming up with a tune to sing in taverns about their untimely demise.

"I would not waste precious paper in my Tome to document their bones. I would rather use the space for rat bones. Govath makes a good point. The Lances do not seem to know the dragon whereabouts nor keen on hunting it right now. It seems they have more pressing tasks for groups such as ours. But this one suspects they will cause us trouble..."

Turning to Rowan, he adds...

"If the guide Rowan knows something about them, perhaps this knowledge would be useful in keeping one step ahead of them."

Rowan takes off his hat and hits it against his leg as if to get the dust off, the colour on his human face has returned to the normal pallor. "I never heard of the Stone-Cold Reavers. Means they either not from around here, or they jus' as new as our little crew."

About this time, a young squire emerges from the door to the barracks. In one hand, he holds several small pieces of parchment - in the other, a hammer. Between his teeth are a few long nails. He scurries over to the wooden board and hastily hammers up three posts, then scurries back inside.

"Well I suppose they do not matter for now. Let us see what the day has in store for us."

Storm saunters over to the board once the squire is done posting the job notices.

Upon the board, you read the following three requests upon the pieces of parchment:

"Dwarf prospectors have uncovered ancient Dwarven ruins in the mountains east of here, and have been been working an archaeological dig seeking treasures and relics. They need to be warned that a White Dragon has been sighted in the area. Take the warning to them and report to Captain Reynolds for a reward of 50gp."

"A clan of reclusive Rock Gnomes resides in a small network of caves at the southern base of the mountains. The Gnomes of Gnomengarde are known for their magical inventions, and they might have something which would help in the defence against the Dragon. Get whatever you can from them. Captain Reynolds will grant a reward of 50gp per item turned over to the Lances."

"An acolyte of Chauntea named Adabra Gwynn serves as midwife for both the town of Leilon and the small settlement of Phandalin. As such, she lives by herself in a stone windmill on the side of a hill situated between both locations. With reports of Dragon sightings becoming more common, it's not safe for her to be alone. Urge Adabra to return with you to Leilon until this matter passes. Upon her safe arrival, you may collect a reward of 25gp from Captain Reynolds."

"Well if ultimately we want to be notified about when the dragon's whereabouts is found, would the Gnome one be best as that is most directly related to defeating the dragon? _Govath asks the group after reading through the options."

Storm ponders over the postings for a moment, considering the best course of action. Speaking low enough as to not to be overheard by any of the nearby guards, he proposes to the group...

"Govath does have a point. Gnomegarde may provide the best advantage against the dragon and perhaps we too shall find something to give us an advantage over The Stone-Cold Reavers. However, if we want to maximize our efficiency, what if we were to take a second. Let us inquire about the whereabout of the Dwarf ruins and the Gnomengarde entrance. If the Dwarf ruins are on the way, to the Gnomes, we take the Gnome contract and...obtain the Dwarven contract on the side."

Skimming the board, Cain takes little interest in the contents of each contract, and more the destination. Noting the Gnomes could be found deep inside a mountain ...

"Sure. I agree with Govath, the Gnome's technology might prove useful if a showdown with a dragon does happen upon us."

"The general idea is each party gets one job, Red. I'd be inclined to grab whatever is left over, but seeing as there are only three today, I reckon there won't be any extra."

"Also seeing as each requires reporting back to the Captain, it might not go so well. Though we could always hope that completion of these contracts are more important to him than fairness ..."

Storm bows. "This one is still trying to learn your customs. In Port Nyanzaru, the adventuring groups take on all that they can carry. Then perhaps we can at least stop at this ancient ruins for a resupply before heading into the mountain."

"As you've been witness to," he nods his head towards the reavers, "competition can be fierce. And out in the wilds...the law is sometimes hard to find. I'd be more worried to find my throat slit in the mornin' than our captain's sense of fairness. But we can choose one now and stick around to see if a third group comes by to claim the last. It's all up ta you."

"Well if everyone is agreed, we take the Gnome posting, and doesn't really bother me if we stick around. Or if some of us want to wait while the others go and grab some supplies as needed."

"Yes let us take the Gnome posting. Since this will take us below the mountains, let us be sure to be well prepared with light and rope."

"This feels to be a good day. So what was that you mentioned about breakfast earlier Rowan?"

"This one will need to buy a few more supplies before breakfast. How many days journey do you think this shall be? A few extra rations will be wise. Guide Rowan, point me in the direction of a general store and then I can meet up with you shortly after."

Rowan gives the Tabaxi detailed directions to a general store known as Wynn's Wares. "That should suit ya unless you need weapons or armour."

"Where shall I meet you after I am done?"

"Upon checking the contents of his pack Govath grumbles to himself. I will join you in buying supplies. Seems I was running lower than I had thought."

"So Cain, yeh doin' ok for supplies?"

"Well Govath, shall we?"

Storm heads off to Wynn's Wares to do a little shopping.

"Yes, I think I have enough for a few days journey into the wilds. Hopefully these gnomes are a welcoming bunch." _he replies to Rowan.

Before the two head off to find the general store, Rowan tells them of a bakery where they can grab a quick bite before departing on the journey. "Meet us there, an' we're off."

"A great idea. We shall meet you there within the hour."

The road that Rowan directs you down winds around the north end of Leilon, past the eastern entrance and toward the north exit to the High Road. You hang a left down a wide road and enter what appears to be the town’s main shopping strip - several stalls and buildings offering all manner of goods, from flowers to furniture.

Here, activity is beginning to pick up. As the various shops open up for the day, townsfolk begin flitting back and forth, in and out of buildings, carrying their baskets of goods.

Before long, you find Wynn’s Wares, a fairly large building with its name emblazoned in old-fashioned script upon a hanging wooden sign outside the door. Upon entering, you doubt for a moment that you’ve found the right place - the shelves are so littered with random curiosities that it’s hard to see the adventuring gear in-between.

Behind the counter at the back is an elderly Elf, who appears to be tinkering with a wind-up toy carousel. He sets it down as he hears the bell above the door ring upon your entry.

"Ah, well-met! Welcome to Wynn's Wares! What want wins me the witness of such winsome wanderers? Whether one wishes for whistle, waterskin or whetstone, Wynn's Wares won't withhold!"

1d20 (19) + 3 = 22
Storm looks around for anything resembling unique or complex construction, with gears, clockwork or moving mechanical components. The more unique the invention, the better!

"Govath wanders through several aisles looking through some of the oddities, and picking up the items that he will need for the trip. Eventually making his way to the proprietor. This is quite the collection of oddities you have here. How did you come by all of them?"

"Ah! When wanderers, wearily weighted, wander into Wynn's Wares and wish to winnow their weighty whimsical wonders, whether working or weathered, Wynn is wont to assist. Such wonders Wynn welds, wrenches and winds back to working - when not warmly selling wares, naturally."

As Storm looks around the shop, he sees all kinds of curiosities - toys, time-keeping devices, intricate boxes with locking mechanisms unknown to him, model gliders - but one thing that catches his eye in particular is something in the shadowy back corner, behind the desk. A pile of curiosities is haphazardly stored there (presumably waiting for Wynn's repairs), but one object stands much taller than the others. It's mostly covered by a white sheet, but sticking out slightly from underneath is what appears to be a life-sized humanoid arm, constructed of wood and metal, hinged at both elbow and wrist.

"Have you any creation of your own mind? I would be interested to see another craftsman's work. While talking Govath places his supplies on the counter and pays for his food and bedroll."

Eyeing the strange contraption under the sheet, Storm inquires about it. Though this is the first shop he has been to this side of the sea, he cautiously follows ol' Wynns' style of speech as to not offend.

"That thing tarped there, this Tabaxi thinks that tale trembles thrillingly! Tell that tsoufa, thanks!"

"(To Govath): Wynn's while is more whittled with fixing wanderers' wonders - not Wynn's own.

(Turning to Storm): Of the wonders upon which Wynn is working, the one you witness is most wrecked. When the wanderer welcomely left it as waste, Wynn was made aware it is a Nimblewright of Waterdeep. Woefully, Wynn's wrenching and winding has not won the working of this wonder."

"Terrible that the treasure remains tattered. This Tabaxi travels today, though thinks the talented Wynn can task this trekking traveller for help?"

"If, while wandering, one witnesses the workings of Nimblewrights, Wynn would welcome the knowledge wholeheartedly! Wynn wasn't aware of such wonders before the wanderer walked in with it, and knows woefully little of what winds it."

"Wishing you wealth and wellness, wanderer!"

Watching Storm and Govath leave to shop for preparations, Cain begins to feel the heat beneath the hood which full covers his head. He needed to catch some fresh air, but not here.

Turning to Rowan, he asks, "I suppose we should head to the bakery while we wait for the others? Get something to snack on? Or do you want to wait here and see what the Reavers will do?"

"Let's give them some space, but we can wait awhile t'see if the last job gets snatched up."

"Good idea, though the others will be expecting at the bakery. Maybe I'll go on ahead in case they arrive and you can meet us shortly?."

He really needed to get out of the stifling hooded robe

"Just point me in the direction and I'll head on over."

Rowan puffs another cloud from his nostrils. "If yeh aren't too concerned about the last job I'll show yeh the way m'self, mate." He heads off towards the bakery.

Outside of Wynn's Wares, Storm sees Govath exiting the shop.

"Govath, I hope you managed to find what you were looking for. This shop is quite a thing, many odd trinkets to be found. I do think I will be back to visit when we return. Wynn put aside a trinket for me that I cannot afford right now though I did get a few other things. I'll show you when we get to the bakery. Do you know your way there? I think I need to make a quick stop back at the Sword of Leilon. I will meet you and the others at the bakery shortly!"

"I'll find my way. Might wander the town a little between here and there. Do not get lost yourself."

"I shall be quick. The guide Rowan wishes to be out of town early this morning so we should not keep them waiting too long. I will be brief and will see you soon!"

Storm of Fire scurries down the street, but heads back towards the job posting board rather than the Sword of Leilon to see what groups have gathered and what postings remain.

Cain and Rowan make it to the bakery and wait for the other two. Storm arrives first, followed after a short while by Govath. The four of you purchase a simple breakfast (2cp) from the female Half-Elf proprietor and eat together before preparing to depart.

"In-between mouthfuls of breakfast Govath mentions in a quite grumble to the group. I think it's best we try and avoid the reavers for now. They don't exactly have the best reputation as adventuring groups go."

Arriving to the bakery first with Rowan, Cain quickly excuses himself as he heads into the washrooms. The moment the door is closed, he tears off the hood and breaths in a deep breath of air. The oversized hood was suffocating.

"This isn't a long term solution ..." he thinks to himself while looking into the mirror. "But, I just need to get as far as possible first ..."

He splashes some water onto his face, sighs and proceeds to don the hood once again and leaves to return to the sitting area.

Cain orders a blueberry pastry and finds Govath already at the table eating. Catching the the last of his sentence as he sits down, he replies, "I agree, they don't seem like a friendly bunch and right now I don't think we want to find ourselves at blows with them."

"They do seem like trouble though our paths should not cross on the way to Gnomengarde. This one did happen to see which group took the last posting. It was a group of three young looking adventurers. Pleasant looking enough and certainly less troublesome looking than our Reaver friends."

Storm sets his Lute case down along with a now, bulging travellers backpack.

"Wynn's Wares is also quite the establishment. You should have a look when we return, there is all sorts of strange things. I did manage to trade for a few necessities that I notice you all have."

He proceeds to outline the adventuring gear he purchased such as a bedroll, rations, hammer, rope...

"I also found these interesting things which I traded some of my wares from Chult for. I figure if we are to seek the Gnome's aid with this Dragon, a gifts may go a long way."

Storm first pulls out a small wooden box carved with stars and other cosmic objects. He opens it to display a mechanical diorama. It is a model depicting Toril and the moon Selune orbiting around Sol. He winds it up and the diorama beings to move.

Next to that he produces a small mechanical Spider. Winding-up the mechanism hidden on underside, he places it on the table and the Spider begins to crawl.

Rowan let out a long enthusiastic whistle, the cigar still firmly planted between his teeth. "Well lookit that, good find Red!" and turning to address everyone, "So I reckon we can kick the dust of this town?"

Storm repacks his bags and downs his breakfast.

"This one is ready to depart."

Picking up the spider and examining it, Cain wonders if these are just children's toys ... but the gesture could go a long way regardless. He hands it back to Storm before standing up.

"I'm ready as well. Rowan, how do you suggest we travel?"

"Well, s'long as nobody here is holding back on us and has a fleet of horses waiting in the town stables, I 'spose we start walkin'."