Mirtul 1st, 1481 DR

Late on the morning of Mirtul 1st, a wagon sits idle just inside the fortified southern gates of Neverwinter, awaiting the arrival of its hired escorts. The wagon is packed with an assortment of mining supplies and food, apparently ready for the start of its journey. A pair of oxen stand patiently harnessed to the wagon. In the driver's bench sits a slumped, haggard old teamster with a wooden peg leg, stinking of whiskey and dozing off occasionally.

One by one, the group of escorts begins to arrive.

The first to appear is a young, grim-looking halfling woman riding up on her mount, a massive, wrinkly gray mastiff. She wears leather armor over worn traveler's clothes, with a pair of shortswords at her hips and a fine polished shortbow slung over her shoulder. She approaches and greets the grizzled wagon driver tersely, and then falls in beside the oxen on her dog. The driver responds in like manner, barely a grunt really, before returning to his drunken meditations.

The next to arrive are an unlikely pair: a contemplative gold dwarf with long blue hair and beard, accompanied by a wizened old white-bearded gnome with a tiny black owl perched on his shoulder. The dwarf appears quite capable of defending himself, garbed in chain mail and carrying a warhammer and round shield adorned with a painted blue image of a cresting wave. The gnome, however, seems much more frail and less stalwartly equipped. As they approach, the halfling woman rides up on her mastiff to address them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:53, Thu 25 Feb 2016.

"Good morning." The halfling woman turns to address the old gnome directly. "Are you the one called Steamknuckle? I was told to expect you and one other agent of the Waterclock Guild. I assume that would be your dwarven friend here."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:55, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

Steamknuckle responds with a warm smile. "That would be me, indeed, and most correct you are: this would be my good friend Zhaquadan Mudsmither, also to accompany us on behalf of the Guild. We hope to join your little caravan for a most uneventful journey to Phandalin."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:56, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

"Very good. Uneventful, indeed. Although these roads were never safe at the best of times, and now is not an especially good time. So though we may hope for uneventful, we had best all be prepared for some events."

She meets the eyes of both travelers before continuing. "I am called Willow. I will be leading this trip. I have known Gundren Rockseeker for many years, and I've served as his guide for many of his deep wilderness expeditions. This trip will not be so dangerous as those, but it will be dangerous enough for him to hire me. I know what I'm doing, so listen to me. When I tell you to do something, do it. I'm not your boss, but just know this: I don't care about your rugged individuality. If you disobey my instructions, you do so at your own peril. I will not go out of my way to save an idiot." She concludes her monologue with a meaningful glare focused at both newcomers.

Finally, she gestures vaguely toward the wagon. "This here is Stumpy, our driver. Don't expect much of anything from him. He drives, and that's about it."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:01, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

Stumpy grunts and raises his flask in salute to the newcomers, then takes a hearty swig before returning to his thoughts.

"Good to meet you both.  Let us be on our way."

"There's one more we're waiting for." Willow glances at the sky with a frown. "It's only one wagon. Three guards and a driver should be sufficient. If the fourth is not here by eleven o'clock, then we leave without him, and he forfeits his pay."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:02, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

The morning wears on, and the group grows restless as they wait for the final hireling to arrive. Then, just as the appointed hour draws near and the wagon party is preparing to set off, a lone dwarf comes walking through the inner gate of the bailey where the rest are gathered.

The dwarf strides briskly up to the group, wearing a stern look on his thickly black-bearded face. He is conspicuously well armed, wearing a heavy suit of battle-scarred chain mail and a massive greataxe slung over his shoulder, with a warhammer and tight bundle of javelins lashed to his belt for good measure. These accoutrements, combined with the obvious stoutness of his thickly muscled frame, contribute to a comforting sense that he can handle himself well in battle.

However, as he draws closer, it also becomes apparent from his disheveled hair and clothes and emanating sour ale stench that he has not yet fully recovered from the debauchery of his previous evening. To his credit, though, he bears himself with poise and strength despite the obvious pounding hangover from which he suffers.

Seeing this, Stumpy grins a greeting in the unspoken language of drunkards, tipping his flask in salute to the dwarf.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:30, Fri 13 Nov 2015.

"I'm here," the dwarf growls. "Right on time. Now we can leave."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:52, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

"You must be Rudo." Willow frowns. "Gundren warned me you might take your sweet time showing up. But you're right, you are technically not late."

Then, she launches into the same overbearing speech delivered to the previous arrivals. "I am called Willow. I will be leading this trip. I am an experienced wilderness guide, and I know what I'm doing. When I tell you to do something-"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:09, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

"Save your breath, little one," Rudo interrupts. "I need no lectures about the dangers of the road from a mewling kitten such as yourself. When the time comes for battle, it is you who will be seeking my protection. Until then, leave me be and let me do my job."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:53, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

Willow glares at Rudo in cold fury for a moment, but eventually just nods and turns back to the wagon. "Roll out," she barks, and kicks her heels into her mastiff. They trot out ahead through the open outer gate of the city.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:12, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

In response, Stumpy snaps the wagon reins and the oxen slowly rumble into motion. The wagon picks up speed and rolls out through the outer gate, with Steamknuckle, Zhaquadan and Rudo walking alongside.

Together, the party sets off on their journey to Phandalin.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:57, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

The party travels uneventfully for the rest of the day along the the High Road, before stopping to make camp for the night about 25 miles south of Neverwinter. A full day's travel still separates them from the junction with the Triboar Trail, and Phandalin beyond.

After laying his bedroll out beside the fire, Rudo walks up to Willow and asks, "Do we have any ale in that wagon?"

Willow glowers at Rudo. "There may or may not be ale in that wagon. But regardless, whatever's in there is the property of the Rockseekers, and none of your concern." She promptly turns her back to him.