By midday, they reached the gates of Stonehaven, a giant stone wall stretching between the mountains. The stonework was exquisite, spanning nearly 200 feet and towering to a height of at least 80 feet. Enormous double doors marking the middle of the wall were etched with ancient runes and stood defiantly against the relentless icy winds that broke against it.


This message was last edited by the GM at 05:18, Sun 06 Nov 2022.

"Stonehaven. Great. How do we get in?"

Celador shivered as the icy wind swirled around him and his companions. Approaching with cautious restraint, he examined the massive doors in hopes of finding some way to open them.

00:00, Today: DM, on behalf of Celador Qiris, rolled 15 using 1d20+3.  Perception: any means of opening the door?

Through squinted eyes in defense of the icy winds, Celador could make out a large metal knocker on the face of the door on the left. The apparatus was tiny in comparison to the enormous stone door but upon closer inspection, Celador found that it was large enough to require two hands to pull back and release against the face plate.

"Hope this works. It's freezing out here." Celador walked to the door, grabbed the knocker in his hand and then let it fall against the door.

As the knocker fell against the door, the trio outside first heard a low thud, then the ground murmured slightly below their feet. This vibration lasted for several uneasy seconds.

Finally a small door within the stone door, high above them slowly slid open. A helmeted dwarf, with a red-braided beard looked down upon the travelers. He extended a long metal cone out the opening, raising it to his mouth to be heard over the howling wind. "Who goes there?"

"I am Celador Qiris," the elf called into the swirling wind. "And these are my companions Liarel and Rugshaw. We journey south from the tower and look for refuge in Stonehaven."

"Rugshaw?!" the dwarf bellowed. "What makes that little nit think he would be welcome in Stonehaven after all the trouble he's caused us? Allowing an elf to pass through these gates is bad enough, but Rugshaw? That ain't going to happen."
This message was last updated by the GM at 05:30, Mon 12 Dec 2022.

Rugshaw backpedaled a step, then gave a bashful look toward Liarel. "I- I'm sure this gentleman, uhhh gentledwarf I guess I should say, has me mistaken with someone else." He took a deep breath and called aloud. "Surely, oh noble gatekeeper, you must recognize that I, Rugshaw, am a gatekeeper in my own right. Gatekeeper for the Mighty Kasch. As such, am I not a brother? And would you not offer shelter to a brother and his companions?"

Liarel rolled her eyes. Certainly this had no chance of success!

With the icy storm swirling around them, the trio waited for a response from the dwarven gatekeeper. There was none.

00:05, Today: Rugshaw rolled 42 using 1d100.  Can he convince the dwarf guard to open the gates (25% chance)?

After a long silent wait, Liarel stepped forward to make her plea. "Great gatekeeper," she started. "My companions and I are lost travelers and are told this is the way to Cathid. We mean you no harm and will be on our way quickly. I see now that you may have past issues with Rugshaw, but he serves as our guide and we can't afford to depart from him now. Please, good dwarf. If you let us in we shall put no burden on your great city and will depart shortly."

Celador stood behind her and nodded. While not speaking a word, he lent a certain amount of legitimacy to the druidess's request.

00:18, Today: Liarel rolled 21 using 2d20+2, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 19,15.  Negotiate with gatekeeper (aided by Celador).

"She speaks the truth," Celador added. "We'll be no trouble and on our way quickly."

The dwarf wrinkled his nose, his eyes darting from side to side as if calculating how much of a risk he was willing to take with the trio before him. "Swear on it then, elf. Swear on a branch or a bag of leaves or whatever it is your kind swears on. Swear you'll be gone in 24 hours and you'll take that good-for-nothing Rugshaw with you!"

Celador looked at Liarel and wrinkled his nose. He had hoped to leave Rugshaw behind in Stonehaven, but it looked like the old man was to be their traveling companion a bit longer. With the wind blowing as cold and hard as it was, however, they had little room to negotiate. "Very well. I swear upon my blade. We shall abide by your request."

After what seemed like forever, the stone doors finally crept open, but only wide enough for a single person to edge through.

Liarel gave Celador a look. "Well, I'm probably the one they dislike the least, so why don't I go first." With a shrug of her shoulder, she slipped through the doorway into Stonehaven.

Celador motioned for Rugshaaw to follow Liarel, then entered after him.

Moving through the doorway, the trio followed a short tunnel before finding themselves in a large stone courtyard. To either side of them, a stairway ran up the wall, switching back several times with an entrance into the wall at each transition. The courtyard was simple, and surrounded a large bonfire that provided a welcome source of heat to the frozen travelers. A few dwarves moved busily across the yard, carrying packages of one sort or another. To the left, a majestic archway adorned an entrance into the mountainside. The right side featured several smaller, simpler entrances. Together, they suggested that the majority of Stonehaven was underground. Unsurprising, considering the dwarven architects.

Directly before them, three armed guards approached. They stared at the travelers for a long time before the middle dwarf, adorned in chainmail and a dented helm, spoke. "Stonehaven," he declared flatly. "Make yourself at home. But don't make any trouble. And be sure you're on your way by tomorrow."

Rugshaw cleared his throat uncomfortably before sheepishly motioning to the western wall. "Uh,the center of town is that way. The Rusty Anvil is known for its mossflour pie."

In that direction, a large archway opened into the mountainside. Dwarves bustled about between the large courtyard where the trio and guards now stood and the enclosed archway that disappeared into the side of the western mountain.

16:24, Today: DM, on behalf of Rugshaw, rolled 32 using 1d100.  Is there any obvious center of town (or place to eat - likely)?

The stone archway opened into a large passageway in the mountain. Businesses adorned either side, marked by signs for (among other things) general goods, leather goods, a fortune teller, and an eating establishment known as "The Rusty Anvil".

"Let's get something to eat, first. I'm starving, and I've had enough of iron rations." He motioned toward The Rusty Anvil and made his way there.

Liarel nodded to the elf, then proceeded. "I'll go first. Like I said, they'll probably hate me the least."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:57, Mon 15 May 2023.

Passing through the doorway, the unlikely trio found themselves in the Rusty Anvil. The place was fairly well kept and was enjoying a moderate business for midday. After a moment of surveyng the premises, the trio noticed that while the doorway was tall enough to accommodate their height, the bar and tables were built for dwarfs, which is what everyone in the bar (excluding themselves) was.

Conversation dimmed slightly when they entered and the party could feel all eyes on them. While not overtly hostile, the trio could sense that it was out of the ordinary for their kind to be there.

Still, the bartender, a broad-shouldered dwarf with a thick mane of red hair, gave them a nod while cleaning a mug with a towel. "Welcome to the Rusty Anvil," he called, not quite enthusiastically. "What'll you have?"

"Three of your best ales and food if you have it," Celador replied as amiably as possible. He looked for a table away from the others and motioned Liarel and Rugshaw in that direction.

The dwarf nodded and stepped back into the kitchen. He came out shortly after with three bowls of stew and three mugs balanced expertly on a large wooded platter. He placed them on the table and studied the strange trio before him. "The stew's good, but it ain't cheap. Twenty-five silver."

22:58, Today: DM rolled 40 using 1d100.  Does the Rusty Anvil charge a fair price (35% chance). FYI, 20 silver would be fair.

Celador made a point to roll his eyes before digging into his pouch. He laid three gold pieces on the table for the dwarf. "It smells delicious. Keep the change."

23:03, Today: DM, on behalf of Celador Qiris, rolled 9 using 1d20.  Persuasion. Try to get on bartender's good side. (DC14).

The dwarf scooped the gold off the table without a word, but a raised eyebrow suggested a bit of curiosity about how such a motley band could afford to pay in gold instead of silver. Still, money was money, and he silently returned to the kitchen.

It wasn't until the food was before her that Liarel realized how hungry she was. She ate several spoonfuls before turning to business. "So we have about 23 hours here... then what?"

As soon as the dwarf turned his back, Rugshaw grabbed the nearest bowl and a spoon and began shoveling it in, first burning his tongue, then chiling it with a gulp of ale, then blowing on the next spoonful before devouring it. All the while he mumbled and cooed under his breath, clearly excited by the sight, smell, and taste of proper food.

Celador cast an annoyed eye at Rugshaw before turning his attention to Liarel. "I need to get to Cathid to meet someone. Calls himself the Caribou Shepherd. Ever heard of him? He raised an eyebrow to Liarel, hoping that she may run in the same circles as one with such a name.

And since he was asking questions, he added one more "And how far is it to Cathid?"

"Caribou Shepherd? Interesting name, but never heard of him." She sipped from her mug before continuing. "As for Cathid, it's a little over a day's journey from here." She rolled an eye toward Rugshaw, who still mumbled and cooed with delight as he ate. "Maybe two with our current party."

00:24, Today: Liarel rolled 3 using 1d20+1.  History - ever heard of the Caribou Hunter (DC18)?
This message was last edited by the player at 05:25, Sun 10 Dec 2023.

Celador followed Liarel's stare to the scraggly man slurping food at an unusually notable volume. "The dwarfs said we can't leave him here, so we'll have to take him with us." He swirled his own spoon in the remainder of his stew. "We should restock on supplies and then find a room."

Liarel stared at Rugshaw as he continued to slurp and gulp with glee. "Better make that two rooms. There's no way I'm sleeping within earshot of him."

Celador raised a hopeful eyebrow. "Two rooms?"

Liarel set down her mug with a thud and rolled her eyes. "One for the two of you and the other for me."

Celador sighed. "Make that three rooms."

He grumbled through the remainder of his meal. As satisfying as the hot meal was, he still realized he was surrounded by dwarfs and had been ordered to vacate the city in 24 hours. Not exactly a warm welcome.

The rest of the meal concluded without issue. Celador and Liarel enjoying it quietly while Rugshaw ruined the peace with an endless chorus of muttering, slurping, moaning, and belching. The tavern waitress directed them to an inn of good repute as well as shops for various supplies.

OOC: 2gp each for rooms, including a passable breakfast.

The next morning, Celador upgraded the crews' winter clothing and purchased additional rations to cover (hopefully) the journey to Cathid. His hope was to make the trip as quickly and painlessly as possible. He hoped the purchases might help keep Rugshaw somewhat tolerable.

OOC: 20gp for two full sets of winter gear and 5gp for 10 days of rations to be split among the three of them.

Celador passed out gear and new rations to everyone. Rugshaw made a mess of trying it on, and eventually managed to pull the new clothing over his scrawny frame, somehow making the new clothing look ragged and worn already. Nonetheless, he thanked the elf for his generosity and started into what was certainly going to be a lengthy anecdote before Liarel suggested they best be on their way.

And with that, the trio headed through the southern gate of Stonehaven. By the end of the next hour, the great stone gate that spanned the valley had fallen from sight.

12:25, Today: DM rolled 36 using 1d100 ((36)). Anything of note happen before their departure (25%)?

The journey through the valley was hampered by a cruel, relentless wind. The party's new clothing from Stonehaven was effective in protecting them from the otherwise fatal cold, but the wind's endless howling still bit through their protective layers, disrupted communication, and pulled morale into a dark place. Rugshaw stumbled from time to time along the way and needed to rest more frequently than the others would have preferred. Most caravans between Stonehaven and Cathid made the journey in two days, and there was supposedly an alcove at the halfway point. As the sun began to set, however, the trio had not yet seen that marker. Either they had missed it, or they had an even longer journey ahead of them.

Even without finding the shelter of the half way point, Celador was able to identify a suitable cave that would provide at least a bit of protection from the wind overnight. A thorough check showed no signs of life, and once convinced there was no threat, he started a fire using his torch.

23:24, Today: DM, on behalf of Celador Qiris, rolled 20 using 2d20+4 survival
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:33, Yesterday.