Before Mallory had a chance to get properly comfortable, Dannika had come up to her, rummaging through her backpack. "That was so cool! Here! Take this!" She shoved a small hooded lantern into Mallory's lap.

Alma and Niels steered their horses into the center of the caravan where the merchants were talking. Mostly they seemed relieved the threat had been dealt with, though some voiced concerns that it might not be over. And that they were still lost.

"Let them be!" Alma protested Farwalker's proposal, but it seemed too late to stop Arno. "They'll get up and leave! They weren't hurt!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:58, Thu 31 Dec 2020.

Arno stays his blade as Alma complains. "How can you know this? They've attacked us once, what say they will not try to hurt us as they escape? They are mere animals. They fight for survival, and a cornered animal is at its most dangerous." he says, keeping his blade at the ready still.

“They’re animals, and they were hungry. Their attack is in shambles. They’ll leave, you’ll see.” Alma said.

Niels rode up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Stop, Alma. They helped us, let them do as they wish.”

Arno is quiet for a bit, but takes a step back after a short while.

"There is nobility in mercy." He lowers the blade slightly. "Surround them halfways; if they wake and see them at such a disadvantage, they may indeed simply flee.."

~Sleep, eh?~ Rhydd thought to himself. ~I did not know that -- I thought them dead. It seems that I have much to learn about magicks.~

When the conversation started up about how to deal with the sleeping Wolves, the outdoorsman steeped over to where he had set his bow, leaning against one of the wagons, and lifted it up out of the snow. He set it down in the bed of the wagon, intending to retrieve it later.

After a moment, he turned to face those who were discussing what to do with the sleeping Wolves. "I am inclined to agree with Alma," he said. "Wolves are surprisingly intelligent creatures, and this lot should have figured out that we are too strong for them."

"If 'twere up to me, I would give them the opportunity to depart with their lives."

Farwalker rolled her shoulders in a shrug, not particularly caring one way or the other about the fate of the wolves. "If you find fault with my recommendation, then so be it." It was more the fate of other that she worried about. "I shall pray for the safety of other caravans or travellers, and hope that they are as well prepared as we were." By that point, she'd finished the trudge towards the wagon with her pack, and had placed her shield back upon it. She could carry it about all day, she just really preferred not to.

It wasn't too much longer that the aurora around her faded away as she waited for anyone that needed assistance. If no one did, she'd just help move the wagons back into a more travel ready formation.

"At least someone here doesn't have manure for brains." the portly merchant huffed, huddled among the other merchants. He offered Arno his torch. "Leaving their departure to chance sounds like a terrible idea to me. And they attacked us." He sternly pointed to the ground to emphasize his point. "As much as I hate agreeing with the goliath, it's got a point - they could attack other caravans. You know what, I'll come with yo-"

Salim, the guard, stepped in among the merchants and interrupted the Waterdhavian. "Stay where you are." He took the torch and nodded to Arno. "Your plan is solid, Arno. We'll help you see it through."

The other guard walked up beside him, grabbing another lit torch from one of the merchants.

"Mmh." Niels kicked his horse into a stride. "Once the wolves have been dealt with, we'll get the caravan back in order. Alma, take the back."

As Arno and the guards, and whoever else wished to accompany, took position near the base of the hill the wolves began to stir. They growled, both surveying the area, and saw nothing but flickering torchlight. They turned around, whimpered, and fled.

---

Sorry for the delay! Expediting things along slightly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:01, Sun 03 Jan 2021.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 42):

Rhydd had taken a seat on one of the wagon-beds and had been examining the string of his longbow to make certain that the dampness of the snow had done it no harm when he heard the "manure for brains" comment of the fat merchant, and took offense.

"Shut up, lard-ass," Rhydd growled, pushing his way off of the wagon and striding aggressively to where the merchant who had nothing but wheedle and squeal when the Wolves had threatened was now holding court and breezily instructing anyone who would listen on what should be done, now that the danger was past.

"I feel much more at home in the company of Wolves than with the likes of you. Mayhap we should cut your hamstrings and leave you behind as an offering for Nature's hungry creatures -- that will solve two ills."

"Shut up, the both of you!" Mallory interjected amid the arguing to try and silence the lot, but it was no good.  Even with her voice added in, it was just another bit of noise in the jumble as they continued arguing all the same.  Rhydd's following threat - made so grim and elaborate in manner - widened the woman's dark eyes as she reflexively gasped and shrank back in obvious fright, even if it hadn't been directed at her to begin with.  It wasn't until her feline friend, Astre, fluttered back down to curl about her shoulders like a furred boa did she regain a bit of her spirit to steel herself for another go.

Thankfully, it was one that appeared in a momentary lull in the antagonistic conversation.  Mallory lifted the lantern that had been thrust upon her and, with a sharp snap of her fingers that echoed unnaturally loud, the lamp immediately lit with an intensely red flame impossible to ignore amid the surrounding gloom and snowy white.  "Enough already!  The wolves won't attack any other travelers unfortunate enough to drag themselves to the ass-end of nowhere like us, because we're not even on the damn road anymore!" a very obvious thing to point out, but a fact that went overlooked in the stress of the moment, it seemed.  Mallory directed her stern scowl over at Niels and swung the lantern his way.  "You there!  We paid good coin on the promise of safe passage, and you've led us into the wilds and nearly to tragedy!  Get us back on course at once, or at least find us somewhere to wait out the storm before we all freeze to death out here.  We'll be discussing restitution for this utter debacle once we get to whatever excuse for civilization is out here."

The merchant stood his ground, but obviously struggled to come up with a retort. Instead, as Mallory saved him, he spat on the snow and grumbled. "Lady's got a point! I ain't about to freeze over due to some petty word-slinging." When he went back to his wagon he seemed more than a little deflated.

"Apologies, madam. We're working to fix it as soon as we can." Niels tilted his hat at Mallory without turning to her or raising his voice. He seemed more than a little apathetic to the whole ordeal as he continued to herd the merchants back into line, answering their pleas for a time-estimate with a bleary "soon".

Salim helped them steer their horses, and turned to Arno, shielding his face. "There's been a few reports of brigands! Not on the main road, but further up. Though I don't know how much water it holds. I figured that was why me and Kirdan here," he gestured to the other guard. "were contracted as extra security. Now, I'm not saying..." he trailed off, patting one long haired horse as it finally managed to turn the wagon-sleigh. Niels took the front, and the caravan slowly resumed.

"Hang on." Dannika said through her thick scarf, continuing to sift through her bag, not paying much attention to Mallory's invective. She produced an entire rod, metallic in material and as long as she was tall. It did not seem like it could extend or retract, nor did it have any bends or folds. She rotated it in her hands, studying it briefly. "I expected to have to search for a while longer for someone like-minded to help me! If the lantern lights green, you know you're near the Chwingas! And of course, with the funds I've been granted from Candlekeep, I can pay you if you find one!" She swooped in and stole Mallory's lantern right back, then attached it to the top of the rod. It now looked very much like a streetlamp, and Dannika promptly handed it back. Her own lantern swung above one of her shoulders, attached to a similar, though darker rod strapped to her back. "Er... I forgot your name."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:45, Mon 04 Jan 2021.

Rhydd balefully eyed the merchant as he turned on his heel and retreated in the direction of his wagon. ~It pains me to see Nature's creatures wasting away and starving,~ the outdoorsman thought to himself, ~while ones such as him continue to pack on the blubber whilst serving as a living monument to gluttony.~

After a moment Rhydd shrugged his shoulders and turned away, even as he heard some of the other travelers carping at Niels for letting the caravan wander off the road. Truth be told, they had a point, for with the weather as bad as it was, getting lost could get you dead. The archer had spent enough time in the wilds to have developed a better than average sense of direction, and he had a good head for remembering landmarks and terrain that he had seen before.

Granted, all of the snow and swirling winds had hidden away the sun and stars, and made navigation considerably more difficult. But nonetheless Rhydd felt fairly confident that he knew where they were -- well, within a few miles, either way -- and which direction they needed to travel in, in order to arrive at Bryn Shander.

He found himself wondering whether Niels knew how to get them there.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:09, Tue 05 Jan 2021.

Farwalker was very carefully not bashing the sharp end of her axe into someone's head. She'd dealt with such people before, but there was a special irritation with those that called her it. But she wasn't a child, letting her irritation control her. Instead, she used it to sharpen the blade of her axe. Not that it really needed it. It was just therapeutic. Plus it let her sit in the back of the wagon.

"What exactly is it that fascinates you about the chwingas?" She called behind herself to Dannika.

"Oh!" Dannika beamed, seemingly glad someone finally asked. "They're elemental spirits, and they're the answer to all of this, definitely! They were first encountered on the peninsula of Chult, but were later found all over Faerûn. Confirmed sightings have occurred near Cormyr, Chondalwood, Evermeet, and just south of Baldur's Gate in a mountain pass. There have probably been many more undocumented sightings. Previous research indicates they possess the ability to alter their surroundings, and my leading theory is that something has upset them, or that at they at least know something about this eternal night that is going on. They're painfully shy, but if you know to look for them you can find them. I think. I haven't yet, but I will! I would very much like to study one up close."

---

It would make a lot of sense to me that Farwalker knows of these spirits, in other terms, shape, or form. If you want to know more, I'll have you roll a Religion check.

Farwalker's Religion check (10): While she hasn't encountered one herself, tales have passed down her former tribe. By passing conversation it seems like some of the locals living in the Ten-Towns know of them too. Most think them mere legends to explain away misfortune or luck. Mainly misfortune, as they can be quite mischievous, often stealing small items or trinkets. Though it is said that if one is ever encountered, it will bestow gifts upon those who treat it respectfully.

Mallory's Arcana check (8): Something similar to what Dannika is describing has been mentioned here and there in books and tomes Mallory's read over the years. If anything, the literature is scarce and poorly substantiated. Few scholars actually acknowledge their existence outside of Chult.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:45, Tue 05 Jan 2021.

"Er... I forgot your name."

"Mallory... Bonheur." a simple introduction in reply, though with a distinct sense of hesitation and forlorn resignation at the mention of her own surname.  It was little susprise Dannika had forgotten it though - Mallory had never told her in the first place.

All things considered, Mallory wasn't quite certain of what to make of Dannika.  Her frenetic manner and the way she kept hoisting items to and fro left the woman at a bit of a loss just trying to keep up, though she rapidly found herself without the patience to even try.  As the scholar went on at length about children's stories of mystical creatures that controlled the weather Mallory just sighed a long, weary sigh and slumped back into her seat once more.  The scepter-like lamp that had been thrust upon her laid across her lap while Astre sniffed at it, half-walked down his mistress' chest to stretch and poke about curiously.

"Sounds more like the mischief of Pixies and Sprites." she grumbled dismissively beneath her breath.  Though the mention of a budget from Candlekeep tickled her rather chilled, cold-reddened ears.  From what she knew of that esteemed archive, even getting in required a considerable amount of wealth.  The excitable scholar clearly had resources and connections available to her...  Shrewdness overcame melancholy for the moment as Mallory rallied what little patience she had left in her to try and contend with the storm that was Dannika once more.  "It may interest you that I'm a Diviner of no small skill.  I daresay that, with enough backing and support, I might be of use in narrowing your search for these... eh... capricious spirits.  You mentioned funds?"

While they chat, Mallory will Ritually cast "Identify" on the lantern she's been given to see what she can learn of its allegedly magical nature.

A particularly chilly wind blew in beneath the covers of the wagon, causing Dannika to shiver. "Well, it's not a massive grant, mind you, and I'm not sure how long I have to stay in Ten-Towns. But if you can bring me a live specimen I'll pay you, say, three-hundred gold pieces?"

---

Identify (spell) on the lantern:  The worn, matted glass or metal framing itself seems completely mundane, but the wax of the candle burning inside contains traces of something magical; mud from a tropical location. The light will shift to a green hue when in proximity of these Chwingas, just as Dannika is describing. It requires no command from the wielder. The candle will also never burn out.

Interestingly enough, the rod exudes a magical property of its own. Since Mallory wasn't focused on it, she learns little before the spell fades.

---

"Wait, hang on a second." Dannika raised an eyebrow, standing beside Mallory. Just when the wizard's spell finished, Dannika removed a mitten and tapped the rod twice with two bunched fingers. The rod slowly started to move, affixed in the air inside the wagon as the caravan continued on, bumping into sacks of grain, dragging them along and pushing them aside. One tore on the chipped edge of a plank, leaving behind a trail of its contents. "Drat! I took the wrong one with me. Rector Durham is going to be so mad." She then clumsily rushed after it, stumbling and falling over a displaced sack.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:39, Wed 06 Jan 2021.

The patiently hopeful expression Mallory had taken on turned a little strained at the edges as Dannika suggested capturing a live specimen.  Wonderful... why not just ask her to gather a few of Tiamat's toenail clippings while she was at it, for all the likelihood there was?  She held such sarcasm away in lieu of diplomacy, however, as she shuffled to sit a bit closer beside the scholar with a friendly manner about herself.

"I was thinking something a little more research-based, darling.  Surely you have a place to stay?  A budget for daily expenses?  Or at least a contact with whom you plan to stay?  We could stick together - you and I - to follow leads and do investigations, then hire some strapping worker fellow to do the legwork." she tried to negotiate sensibly since, the more time she spent in conversation, the more she felt Dannika didn't actually think such things through at all.  Mallory herself wasn't looking forward to contending with Ten-Towns, but an absentminded sort like the scholar would be eaten alive by the ruffians and brigands of the area!  Especially if she went around popping off that she had a few hundred gold on her person...

The ever-distracted Dannika fiddling with the lantern rod once more, however, brought Mallory back to the here-and-now as the woman gave a surprised yelp.  Like the scholar, she lunged after the suddenly suspended shaft but had more luck in grasping it, feeling her heels skitter along the wood of the wagon's bottom for a moment as the vehicle continued to move beneath her.  Astre swiftly darted down her arm and drummed his little kitty paw against the same spot Dannika had and sent his mistress crashing back ass-over-teakettle into the wagon bed once more as the device unaffixed itself from that point in space.

"Why--" Mallory deadpanned as she sat up braced on one elbow, ruffled and disgruntled, but with the lantern rod safely in hand.  "--do you even have an Immovable Rod in the first place?  These are industrial equipment!"

"Ah, yes. Those creatures." Farwalker nodded her head. She knew them by a different name, but it didn't much matter. "Best to be avoided in most cases." She wasn't all that sure how willing she'd be to try and capture one. "They aren't known to be harbingers of good luck." She did pause in the sharpening of her axe to look back in time to watch the... shenanigans with a pair of raised eyebrows.

"Useful industrial equipment. Are you well, Dannika? Please watch your footing, I wouldn't wish you to be injured." She said, while sitting in a bouncing wagon while sharpening an axe. Admittedly, her skin was just a lot tougher than the other woman's.

"I'm... okay!" Dannika answered Farwalker as she lunged forward to catch the rod before it exited the wagon. Before she managed to deactivate it with the tap of her fingers she was dragged along it's path. If a moment more had passed, she would have hung outside the edge and tumbled into the snow below. "Whew!" She crawled backward to safety.

"As I said, it was a mistake. I intended to bring with me ordinary ones." She patted down her layers of woolen clothing. "I'm not going to have any use for it." She hesitantly extended the rod, lantern on top, back to Mallory. "Er... I suppose I did give it to you. It's worth a great deal, so I'm going to need it back at some point, but if you want I'll let you hang on to it."

"As for research," she continued, pacing about. "you can certainly help me, but at this point I think I'm stuck treading water unless I can examine one up close. Perhaps ask it a few questions, if it's willing to answer. With the lanterns it's not impossible to find them. In theory."

---

Rhydd's Survival check for Chwingas (23): Rhydd has heard of these beings before, going by that exact name. They're real, and they're very difficult to spot due to their small size and the fact that they never leave prints in the snow. Usually, their presence is foretold by a subtle shift in the weather-pattern, be it a gentle breeze, the sweet smell of flowers, dancing fireflies, or the soft fall of snowflakes.

Rhydd had always thought of himself as a practical man, so he was a little surprised to find himself drawn to a theoretical discussion about the mysterious Chwingas. His feet made no noise in the fresh snow as he stepped over to where the two Human females and the female Goliath were holding their discussion.

"I have never seen a Chwinga," he offered during a pause in the conversation, "but I have heard a bit about them from those who are not given to telling falsehoods."

"From all that I have heard, these are real beings, not imaginary, as some believe them to be. They are small in size, and very difficult to detect by normal means," he added as he glanced over at the magicked lanterns that were supposed to aid in that purpose, "by reason of the fact that they leave no footprints in the snow, and their own natural timidity."

"I have heard tell -- again, this is coming from those whom I know to be truth-tellers, and not my own personal experiences -- that a Chwinga's presence is foretold by subtle things . . . a fresh breeze that was not present before, the smell of flowers of the field, fireflies gamboling about in the air, and a gentle snow-fall which is different than what came before -- these are all examples that have been told to me."

"Wait, I've got to write that down!" Dannika pointed to Rhydd as he approached their wagon before proceeding to fish out a quill, bottle of ink, and some paper. Another gust of wind caught some of the empty sheets and carried them far off into the freezing darkness.

While progress was slow and grueling, Niels at the very least led the caravan in a somewhat consistent direction, Rhydd figured. So far, They hadn't looped back and begun anew at any point. Coupled with the fact that the path was mostly accommodating, it seemed the lead guide had regained some semblance of navigational sense - or at least not tossed it completely wayward.

After a cold, harsh two hours, the merchants' complaints were replaced by the clatter of their teeth. Atop their horses, they huddled into whatever pelts and blankets they had brought, hoping it would be enough for the continuously dropping temperature as the late evening hours crept in. The portly Waterdhavian had elected to trod through the snow on foot and lead his horse as to not remain motionless and lose his warmth, per himself. When one of the others tried to convince him that it would only lead him to lose warmth faster, he was having none of it. To his credit he at least kept pace.

In what the merchants claimed a blessing from the gods, the blizzard finally started to diminish. Niels had led the caravan atop a vantage point at the crest of a hill, and not far away were the lights of what must have been a small town, nestled against a frozen lake. He had the caravan press on, steering it back onto the road. Once close, the caravan traveled alongside the wooden wall that encircled the settlement before reaching a lifted portcullis flanked by two watchtowers. There were no guards to be seen. On the rightmost tower was a coat of arms, partly covered in snow and hanging askew. It depicted a sailboat on a blue background.

This was Targos, not Bryn Shander.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:44, Mon 11 Jan 2021.

As a follower of Tymora and one who had experienced the highs and lows of life quite a bit in her short years thus far, Mallory was familiar with the fickle whims of luck and fate.  How easily they could twist away and turn on a person who thought, foolishly, that they were assured.  And as she stared up with a deadpan gaze at the flagging sign of Targos, just as chilled and battered-feeling as the old sign itself likely was, she was of the distinct thought that she was being punished.

"Targos." she announced flatly, her voice almost lost amid all the frigid wind as she stuck her head out the front of the wagon.  What wasn't lost, however, was the rapidly rising outrage and volume alike as she cast a glower ever so venomously Niels' way.  "Targos!  Targos?!  How in the name of Tymora's tinseled tits did you lead us so far astray as to overshoot the entirety of Bryn Shander?!"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 22:35, Mon 11 Jan 2021.

Niels steered his horse to the side of the caravan, letting the merchants enter with their wagons. The road here was easier to maneuver, with a shallower layer of snow covering it. Despite the obvious shortcomings in their manning efforts, they had at least kept the path plowed.

Several of the merchants had already expressed their dissatisfaction, and as Mallory lashed out, Niels simply stared stared at her, unflinching. In many ways it looked like he considered this entire mishap merely a big chore. "My sincerest apologies," he said and tilted his hat. "I am certain amends can be arranged. I will have a word with the town speaker tomorrow. For now, I suggest everyone find shelter within the city walls. There is an inn by the harbor, the Luskan Arms."

“Your skills must be impressive, then.” The goliath stepped up next to Mallory, her pack, which seemed more chest and barrel than pack, on her back. She’s been walking the last hour with it on her back. It wouldn’t do to let the wagons make her complacent. She had much more treacherous ground than this to still cover. “To have never made a mistake, especially in the worst of conditions. Most impressive indeed.” She didn’t smile as was her norm, instead she narrowed her eyes towards the open gate and lack of guards. Out here? That was decidedly odd.

“Normally, I would be happy to see any sort of town after the storm we found ourselves in. A lack of welcome is a mite worrisome, however.” Shrugging her shoulders to resettle her pack, she kept making her way forwards and into the town. Best to see what was going on sooner rather than stand around worrying.

Farwalker's comment ended up with Mallory turning several shades of red and purple across the face in short order, as if she couldn't decide whether to be abashed or even more angry.  She sputtered about for a moment before she found her voice once more.  "A mistake?  Losing a bit of luggage en route is a mistake.  Being a few hours off schedule is a mistake.  Getting us lost in a gods-forsaken blizzard, set upon by ravenous wolves, and missing our destination to end up in a completely different town is a bit more than a mistake!"  It seemed whatever grace allowed Farwalker to take such a turn of events in stride was not something the young noble had a surplus of at the moment.

“Normally, I would be happy to see any sort of town after the storm we found ourselves in. A lack of welcome is a mite worrisome, however.”

"They're probably all keeping warm indoors, like sensible people.  The storm's only just let up - what use would it be to have gate guards freezing their eyes out staring out into the middle of a blizzard?" she groused as she slumped back down into the wagon with a heavy thump.  "Let's just get to that inn already before we all get even more frostbitten.  My warming magics aren't going to be able to contend with this for much longer."

Farwalker laughed as she kept moving, turning her head to call back over her shoulder. “Bryn Shandar is but a few hours south. Even in a blizzard like this.” She grinned then, a wide flash of white teeth, “And far worse than wolves hide in these storms. Here there be dragons and giants and astounding dangers! With the beauty to match!” She let out another laugh, this one much louder and cheerful. “Not even a week back and something has tried to eat me. It’s good to be back home. I missed this.”