The next morning you all wake up in your beds alone to the overwhelming smell of sizzling bacon, fresh bread and other things one might expect for breakfast including Ale.

The day is bright, people buzz about and there are so many things to do before setting off or is there.

In reply to Narrator (msg # 1):

I wake up, do some stretching and cardio. I then get dressed, get my armor and stuff ready and have Krista and Jenine (the names of my whips) at my side and ready.  I head down to the pub and see who is around and what the scuttlebutt of the day is.

As you enter the sitting area you see the barmaid that was enamored with you she giggles leans over to one of the other barmaids and whispers into her ear as she points in your direction. She then waves a hand in front of her nose as if clearing away a noxious smell. Another barmaid makes her way over to you and asks, "What'll you have hun?"

In reply to Narrator (msg # 3):

I just walk out of the pub.

Gwen helps herself to a strong black coffee with a shot a brandy and two biscuits piled with bacon. She's wiping greasy crumbs from her mouth with the back of her hand when Lyndian emerges. She greets him with a wink and a nod and follows him out, waving to the others if she can spot them among the morning traffic.

"What do you think, Sir Minstrel? Maybe we should head to the stables, the caravan yards, or maybe even as far as the gates to see what news there is from the road? I'm not even sure whether Harlond will provide mounts for us, so maybe a visit to him is in order. On the other hand, this place seems pretty far from anywhere... maybe we'd best provision ourselves, not just for the journey, but for a long stay in the middle of nowhere..."

Imbert appears in the common room just in time to see the bard and gnome depart.  He follows them and calls out a question.

"Headed to the market?"

In reply to Imbert Keenbinder (msg # 6):

I take a moment to take in the air. To feel the breeze on my face and soak in the beauty of this day. I make mental notes to write upon on all of the days splendor. I take good look around looking for anything that provides me with inspiration.  I also take a good look around to see if I see anything out of the ordinary before I am able to give a proper answer to Gwen.
[Perception: 13+0=13

As the group steps into the street from the Owl's Head Tavern where they stayed the previous night they hear a shout coming from down the street. They turn their heads toward the rising sun and see a train of dwarven porters, conspicuous in their brilliant red leather jerkins and blue-dyed brewer's aprons, winds through the street. Each of the stout men carries a wooden ale cask on his shoulder, painted in a red and blue check pattern. The eldest dwarf calls out the name of the brewery to drum up interest. The chant of “Ten Keg Mountain ale” resounds through the street.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:23, Tue 24 Mar 2020.

In reply to Narrator (msg # 8):

I pull out my Lute and join in loudly with in the song.
[Performance: 14+6+2(lute prof)=22]

Bandalor emerges from his room late in the morning.  The hours he stayed to drink and listen to the bard precluded his catching his colleagues before they departed.

Small matter.  He would see them at dinner.  As he did every morning, he stretched and offered alms to the rising sun.  Of late, recurring dreams intruded in his sleep.  Not the usual dreams of the failed crusade, but darker dreams, of a defiled altar surrounded by greenskins.  Bandalor shook this off as too much Berduskan on too empty a stomach.

He quickly looked over his road pack, ensuring his possessions were not molested during what was likely an overly sound sleep.  All appeared in order, and there was no indication the pouch he secured to his ankle nightly was moved by anything other than his nightmare flailing.

Gathering his things, Bandalor strolled into the common room to fight the sour stomach with a large breakfast and set to see if anyone in Neverwinter had a line on the whereabouts of an old companion…

[OOC] Sleeping in, I may have missed the pack.  Regardless, going to eat, and then hit the market to ensure my road pack is road ready.  If I made it in time, I eat quicker than I would like to catch up.

As two of the adventurers watch the third play his instrument and sing about Ale's their fourth companion bursts from the Owl's Head with bacon hanging from his lips and an cup of Ale in his hand. He exhales in excitement as he lays eyes on his now companions.

Bandalor hurries to catch up.  Surveying the mix of destruction and activity, keeping his eyes open for threats, or any open signage of obviously evil aligned organizations.

“Well, if nothing else Gundren and Sildar’ve got us headed south tomorrow.  Anyone have word of the road from here to Leilon?  I’m more than less ready, but probably worth poking around and seeing if there’s any recent caravans already run that route.”  Wiping the last morsel of bacon from the corner of his lip, he falls into stride.

“I haven’t seen any spires for the waking lord…  please let me know if you see something I don’t.  Also, may want to run by Gundren and Sildar’s to inspect their rig.  I don’t want to head south with anything that will fall apart the first time we have to break off the road to defend ourselves.”

"I think a cask of ale might need to make the trip out to Phandalin with us," Gwen says, watching the dwarves with a grin. "But I agree with the sun priest... we should start with a visit to Harlond. I know we're not due 'til tomorrow, but I want to know how big this supply caravan is and how experienced the drivers are if we're supposed to be its security, and whether we need to purchase our own mounts for this outing. I'm sure we'll be able to meet some other teamsters and gather information about the conditions on the road to the south."

[OoC: Ready to head to wherever this caravan is being assembled.]

As you make your way through the streets of Neverwinter there are signs of repair everywhere. Tavern's, homes, shops and places of worship are being renovated and restored. Much of this is due to Lord Neverember's influence. He sees Neverwinter as being the metropolis it once was and people have started to flock to the city in droves to start business or simply to be among those that are civil.

You find yourself at last in the River District which is more or less the designated Merchant area. Everywhere are signs of construction and the re-establishment of order to some degree. However you do notice that livestock do wander the streets as people have free ranged their animals in the city proper as nothing has stopped them thus far.

At last you stand in front of Harlond's supplies, grains and more. The large side door is open with a small wagon being loaded with supplies. A not so healthy looking human with a greenish tint to his skin and wisps of thin hair hanging from his head climbs down and approaches you. "Ho there," He says to your group, "Harold I am, and thats my man Patsy," gesturing to the form of a half-elf carrying a barrel of something toward the wagon. "By the looks of you your Gundrens folks. A bit early aren't ye supplies aren't ready yet," He flatly states. Then just stares at you with a blank look on his face.

I try to observe if his health is anything I could address with care or magic.

  Speaking with concern, Bandalor offers:  “Well met, Harold. We’re indeed Gundren’s folk.  You look unwell…  is there anything the favor of the Morninglord could do to improve your constitution?”

[OOC] Unsure what appropriate rolls may be required, but genuinely concerned if Harold is ill and needs assistance.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:41, Wed 25 Mar 2020.

In reply to Bandolous Armonthor (msg # 15):

Noting his pallor and his hair loss you think he indeed suffers from something. Perhaps poor hygiene, poor diet or perhaps disease of some some sort. He however seems somewhat healthy.

13:42, Today: Bandolous Armonthor rolled 18 using 1d20+3.  WIS Medicine skill check.

Imbert shrugs and looks around.

Harold looks at Bandalor and says, "Ye pulling me leg? I be healthy as a horse." He then turns and bursts into a coughing fit then clears his throat and says, "So what can I be doing for you all? Supply wagon and nag will be ready tomorrow. Figure it will take you a few days travel to get to Phandalin I figure."

In reply to Narrator (msg # 19):

"I am in need of coconuts, some catgut strings (for my stringed instruments), a small hallowed out glass tube that will fit over my ring finger, and a pipe and tabacco"

Then I play Gmajor9 chord on my lute

Harold looks at the Bard and says,"Well I'm not really that kind of merchant but I suppose I can have those items on hand for you tomorrow for say 5 Silver Pieces."

In reply to Narrator (msg # 21):

Tosses him a gold. "Keep the change" and then tips my hat.

Giving another pained, sidelong look to the bard;  “Very well then.  What word do you have of the roads to Phandalin?  Is this the wagon we’ll be taking?  When was it last maintained?  Are the draft animals provided or needs we make the lyrical laggard here sing them up?”

Harold turns to face Bandalous and states,"Good Sir I provide adequate services. The wagon has been inspected before the load started and the two Animals that will be pulling it are in fine health. If you would like to look at either please be my guess. Looking at your party here if this is all of them you should all be able to fit onto the Wagon if two of you are willing to ride in the back." He then turns to the bard and gives a smile and a thanks for the extra coin.

Before the party parts ways with the ill-looking man, Gwen thanks him. "Are there stables near the edge of Neverwinter where new arrivals tend to congregate? We might be in the market for horses of our own, and I'd like to talk to someone who's recently come from the south."

Walking away from Harlond's, she turns to the group.

"Well, there's no getting a look at the draft animals before tomorrow, but I guess the rig looks alright. I can drive a team, if need be. It might also do us well to not all be bound to the wagon. An additional mount would let us scout ahead more easily or respond quickly to threats. Thanks to Lyndian's hustle last night, I could just about shell out for a pony, although others of you might be stronger riders. What do you all say?"

She continues to drink in the bustle of the city, looking out for interesting shops, curious passers-by, or anything strange afoot in the reborn Neverwinter.

As you soak in the city. You see a wagon load of fired clay pots clattering down the
narrow street, pulled by a drab grey donkey. The cart's driver is an equally drab grandmother; the only spark of color on the wagon is the brightly colored scarf the old woman has wrapped around her mouth to keep out the road's dirt. Even the pots are
drab; simple unadorned grey clay splotched with brown. The woman lowers her scarf and spits a glob of inky black tobacco into the road.

Then Harold says, "Of course there is a stable near both southern gates. However if you were to go out the gate closer to the coast my cousin owns a stable and if you told him Harold sent you he may be able to cut you a deal. Arnold is his name and he runs the Coastal Stables. As far as news of the High Road well is safe as can be. Bandits is probably the biggest threat but the four of yous look capable enough by just the looks of ya to steer them in other directions. The Triboar Trail is probably a little bit more wild so who knows about your safety there. Anyway everything has been paid for and should be ready to pull out in late morning."

“Many thanks, Harold.  Any friend of Cousin Gundren is a friend of mine.”  Turning to the group, “Stables, then?  If any catch sight of barrel of wine, or the symbols of Tymora’s chosen, flag me.”

[OOC] I’m able to ride a mount.  Keeping my eyes peeled for a shrine to lady luck, and the overall religious activity in the rebuilding city in general. Fairly confident my pack is ready for the road, so think for Bandalor the only thing left is to collect as much information about the roads south before we go.

Heading through the Protectors Enclave looking for a temple Tymora you see and interesting sight. A brown-skinned glass blower works behind a hissing and popping fire pit that is separated from the walkway by a single round wooden rail a few feet away. Behind you can see the doors that are pulled across to close off the shop and tools after hours. Yellow light glistens off the long glass tube she plays like a flute, and within a few moments, the woman finishes her current project, a delicate black glass figurine in the shape of a crab. With callused fingers, she snaps off the crab's blow  tube and sets this latest creation aside onto a low table that's filled with a bedazzling glass menagerie in clear view, but just out of reach, of the passers by.

Then you see it her symbol.

You now stand in front of the temple of the Lady who Smiles. A male human with a Shaven head and dressed in red and gold robes approaches you. "Ah friends, travelers often seek the blessing of the Goddess of Luck." Looking at your attire and unwashed selves he continues, "Have you been on the road long?"

“Well met!  Had a couple days to beat the dust, but mail gathers rust if it isn’t worn in the light of day!  Hail, Tymora’s blessing to us all friend!  Any word where Sister Garaele may find Tymora’s favor?”

Bandalor pauses to engage the glassblower, inspecting the rest of his shop for further indications of a secret shrine or clandestine meeting place.

The man gains a pensive look for a moment and then his eyes light up, "Ah Sister Garaele, yes she is off down south in a small frointer town of Phandalin I believe. A small frointer town such as that could use the light of She who smiles dont you think? Why do you inqure of her?"

Turning your attention briefly to the glassblower you dont see anything out of the ordinary but find yourself very mesmerized by ther process.

Bandalor zones out a couple moments, as if caught in a recollection…

“Eh?  Sister Garaele…  we’ve not yet actually met, but in visions I am told she needs my assistance.  It seems just as odd to me as it must sound to all of you…  but in dreams and nightmares I cannot shake her call.”  Collecting himself, he steps back from the rail abutting the glassblower’s furnace.

“No matter.  Thankee.  I will look in Phandalin for the Sister.”

The Priest nods his head in the direction of the group and says, "Safe travels my friends and may she bless you on the road."

"Chasing the woman of your dreams, eh?" says Gwen with a wink and a smile. "All that remains when we reach Phandalin is to see exactly whose luck the Lady favors... hers, or yours?" She elbows the priest playfully as they leave the glassworks.

"Let's head to Arnold's stable... if his deals are as good as his cousin says, I should be able to buy a pony and saddle for the trip with the gold I've got. If anyone else is similarly inclined, I'll chip in for a larger horse instead. I don't mind relaxing in a wagon all the way to Phandalin as long as someone can see over the next hill."

[OoC: Gwen doesn't bring a high WIS to the table, but I clicked something in her background that gave her Animal Handling and Survival, two WIS skills. She does have a badass INT, so she's got good Investigation, but not Perception. If some other high WIS character wants to ride point, Gwen will get out of your way, but we don't have a traditional Rogue in the party and somebody needs to perceive something at some point.]

A you approach the Southern Gate that is closest to the coast you see a leathery gnome merchant has stopped to chat with a pair of human masons, and possibly make a sale. A sheaf of dried tobacco leaves protrudes from the gnome's backpack, and he hunches low under the weight. Leather pouches filled with sweet-smelling dried tobaccos and teas hang from the gnome's every button hole and from his braided rope belt.

And just like that you stand in front a decent sized stable. A relatively healthy man approaches you when you stop and look at the sign for Coastal Stables. "Ho there," he says, "You looking for mounts to head south? Where you headed Helmshold, Thornhold, Waterdeep maybe even Baulders Gate? Riding Horses are 90 gold, Ponies are 40 and Warhorses are 500." He says all this as he covers his eyes to shade them from the sun as he looks in your direction.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:24, Thu 26 Mar 2020.

Mustering as much bonhomie as the withdrawing cleric can present, Bandalor flouts as much of an awkward smile he can muster and engages the stablemaster.

“Well met!  Arnold, is it?  Cousin Gundren said you had the strongest steeds north of Waterdeep!  What word of the roads to Waterdeep, sir?  We’re on the road as his men, and have need of sturdy mounts and good information.”

[OOC]:  I’ve no objections to the Elf-Mage riding point;  but would seem I am the closest thing to a tank in the party.  What am I missing;  what is our plan?

Anything else we need to do prior to finding a nice tavern and suffering the bard’s endless libido?

Imbert wanders around grabbing various horses by the chin, whispering encouraging words and looking at their teeth.

[OoC]: I have a +2 Wis, animal handling, survival, perception, nature, a bow and my favorite terrain is forest.  Maybe I ride point?  I'm heading back to the glassblower.  It's a hobby of mine and I missed that part of the encounter.  This trip could last longer than advertised, since we have wagons we can get rations, water, ale, tents without worrying about encumberment.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:45, Fri 27 Mar 2020.

As you all are standing there talking to the Stable Master you see the ranger start examining some of the horse then stop frozen as if in deep thought then wordlessly head off back in the direction you came from.

Arnold thrown back a little by the abruptness of this says, "Strange friend you have there. Sorry never heard of a Gundren before only cousin I have is Harold. Sickley fellow I might add. As far as word from the road. Usual stuff some bandits here and there, goblins mostly though pesky varmits."

A few minutes pass and the ranger finds himself back in front of the glass blower by the temple. Both  the priest and the glass blower give the ranger an odd look as he approaches but both remain silent.

The glass blower is now working on an exquisite swan.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:20, Fri 27 Mar 2020.

Gwen claps her hands. "Ah-ha! I knew our party was cut from the right cloth! Master Imbert will ride point, and I will happily contribute to the purchase and upkeep of his mighty steed. A good point about provisions, too; we should lay in a solid store of luxuries since we're travelling in such style. In fact, now that I'm back in the wagon, I'm suddenly in the market for a pillow, a flask, and the biggest hat I can find..."

[OoC: Elf-Mage? More like Gnome-Mage. Although we prefer "Gnomage" as in "I'll bring all the Gnomage you can handle and then some."]

[OOC] All demi humans look the same to me...  ;/

Imbert studies the glassmaker's tools and the swan.
"That is a nice piece. " he says indicating the swan with his chin.  "I was apprenticed to a local artisan in my youth and made a few cups and bowls for the townsfolk.  My companion Lyndian Silvertune here is interested in a glass slide for his string instrument, do you mind if I make him one?  I have tools of my own and we can pay for the glass."

[To the Ranger and the Bard]

The glass blower looks up from her work and says, "Tis an odd request but spose I can be lettin you use me space for a small fee of course. Say 5 sp for the use of the space and the glass needed to make yer slide."



[To the Gnomling and Priest]

Arnold looks to the two of you and says, "So yer after a riding horse then? 90 gold for this fine beast here." He pats the neck of one of the horses in the stable which seems to be in good health and not to worse for wear. "Can also outfit yer horse for say 25 gold and include three weeks feed for the mount as well," the man says as he lifts his eyebrows.

Imbert passes over the coins and starts working on the tube for the slide.
"My companions and I are heading to Phandalin on the morrow.  Have you any news from that area?"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 20:07, Fri 27 Mar 2020.

The small woman replies while looking around your side as you start to work the glass, "Not one to know too much about the road m afraid. Most peoples I know are are local folk.Phandalin you say though. Tis a small frontier town?"

"Tis indeed, tis indeed.  Do you know Harold or Gundren?"

The small woman looks up at the ranger and say, "Can't say that I know a Gundren nor a Harold. Why does ye ask?"

"Tis for he that we travel to the frontier.  Delivering goods and protecting them from raiders."

She says, "Ah i see traying to know ones employer is always good."

OOC give me a skill check to make ypur item.

"Yes, something I learned the hard way, but I don't think this employer is undead like last time.  Do you know of anyone that may have some useful information?"  he inquires.  "Looks like I'm a little rusty, but this should serve." he continues, while holding up a mandolin slide.

[OoC]: 19:32, Today: Imbert Keenbinder rolled 23 using 1d20+5.  Craft item with DEX and proficiency bonus.

She says," Thatis very impressive. Listen if this gig of youra does not pan put please come work with me. I am sure it would be worth your while. As to knowing anybody who might have any useful information I would not even know where to begin."

"Many thanks for the compliment and use of your furnace.  I will certainly keep your generous offer in mind, but I'm afraid my path carries me in a different direction.  It was generous of you to let me return to a simpler time and enjoy the echoes of the past.  I will visit again when we return to the city.  I wish you luck until we meet again.:  he says before offering his hand in friendship.

[OoC]:  I depart and head back to the stable or inn, depending on where I think the group is.

The Ranger comes wandering back up to the priest and the gnome who are still looking at horses and conversing with Arnold. He says, "So do you folks know what you kight be after?"

”I was thinking four legs, two eyes and a tail.” replies Imbert.

[OoC]:  Is there a skill to pick a good horse?
This message was last edited by the player at 03:34, Sat 28 Mar 2020.

The man days, "Yes I could sell you a riding horse with ecerything to ride and 3 weeks feed for 115 gokd."

[OoC]:  I have a total of 30gp to contribute to the endeavor.

Hearing the cost, Gwen suddenly wishes she hadn't been living quite so fabulously since her arrival in Neverwinter a few days earlier.

[OoC: About the same... so unless someone's loaded it's a no-go.]

[OOC]I have about 45 GP and 60 SP, unless the wise and wrathful Khorne states otherwise...

Arnold is combing the horse he is trying to sell you.

OCC: You could always try to haggle.

"At that price, riding in the wagon is starting to sound appealing." Imbert states dispassionately.  "Grazing should be good where we are going, so we can skip the feed."

[OoC];  That is 105, which is not too much below his offer.  Anyone have any CHA?  It's not me.  Or we walk, and ride in the wagon.  I'mm good with that.

"Friend, 50 crowns is the most we can manage.  Assuming we make it to Phandalin, collect our keep, and get back happy to return the mount.  If you'll take the word of the Morninglord, and look kindly on our needs."  Bandalor earnestly implores.

[OOC]  Too rich for my blood.  I don't like walking the road without some change in the pouch.  Walking don't bother this guy.

Arnold ppinta to himself and says, "Were you saying 50 to me? Do you fols even know how to haggle? Listen i could let the horse and tackle go for eh 105 gold. See now you come back with a lower offee and that way we go back and forth until we reach a price we are happy with. But to save you guys some time the lowest i can go for the steed and tackle wpuld b 90 gold.'

"There's nothing more to squeeze from this cohort, Friend Arnold.  55 crowns, and we'll still be dowsing for water in our skins and hunting our dinners.  Hungry work, keeping kobold and goblin from mount and wagon."

Bandalor shifts his body as if to indicate a firm and final offer, with intent to turn on his heel and leave.

Arnold looks at Bandolous, "Unfortunately 90 Gold is as far down as I can go. If I go any lower I will have lost on this horse. My business does not thrive on losses I hope you can understand."

[OoC];  I guess walking it is.  It's probably better to invest our limited cash in other items.

"There it is, then... the classic tale of a bunch of impoverished adventurers walking everywhere. More money to spend on casks of dwarven ale, I suppose. You know what I love on a long trip? Smoked herring and pickle sandwiches. Maybe we could find some good sourdough..." She wanders off into the market making a shopping list old loud to anyone who will listen.

[OoC: I don't know what we actually want to spend that cash on if not a horse... just a week's worth of grub? Maybe some healing potions if they can be had? Are we stalling to resolving party composition?]

[OOC]:  Healing potions would be a good call.  Given the flurry of rebuilding activity, I would assume one of the fledgling temples may have them.  DM, any luck in my observing indicators of religious activity?

Aside from potions, I am ready to collect our charged goods, and head south toward Phandalin.

In passing to some or all of you, Bandalor indicates he is keeping his eyes out for any place to purchase healing items, but shrines to Tymora in particular once we arrive in Phandalin.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:32, Wed 01 Apr 2020.

[OoC];  I could use more arrows.  That's about it.  A month of grub sounds good, torches if we don't have any, healing potions...  But I can leave now.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:46, Wed 01 Apr 2020.

Pooling your monies you find yourself unwilling to part with the sum required to buy a mount. You all turn away from the Coastal Stables kicking the dirt in the street and stuffing your hands in your pockets with mopey looks on your faces.

As you head back to the tavern where you are able to gather a months worth of rations for all 3 of you for 45 gold.

You also pass by Claire's Apothecary and see potions to "Make it hurt not so much anymore," for 50 Gold pieces per bottle.



OOC: The potions are potions of healing 2d4+2.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:18, Wed 01 Apr 2020.

[OoC];  I'm good, the healing potions seem a bit high and we probably need money on the road.

"Right-o, then. Off to Phandalin!"

"Tallyho!"