“This is outrageous!” one of the Waterdhavian merchants bellowed. Though his voice was deep and gruff, it carried only to his immediate vicinity, muffled by the sharp snow and howling winds that pummeled the caravan. He held a leather-gloved hand up to shield his face. “Someone get ahold of that blasted guide! I demand to know precisely where we are!”

More than an hour had passed since the caravan had been expected to arrive at Bryn Shander. A mere six wagons in length and transporting mostly grain and salt, it was of dire importance to the populations of Ten-Town that the caravan arrived, as the situation up North had only worsened over these past months. Since no-one was permitted to venture past the Spine of the World without a guide these days, everyone accompanying had relied on said guides’ prowess with the terrain to get safely through the mountain pass and onto the snow-covered roads. They seemed to know what they were doing. New, long-haired horses adapted to the cold climate had been provided, and the wagons had been fitted to more resemble sleighs. However, once the storm hit it was becoming clear that they had led the entire expedition astray, as the beaten road was replaced by ragged, uneven, and barren terrain. Many of the less adequately clad individuals were growing increasingly anxious, especially now as the day was rounding up and the twilight turned to complete darkness.

One person who did not seem anxious in the slightest was Dannika, a half-elven scholar who claimed to have studied at Candlekeep and was now venturing north in search of beings she referred to as ‘Chwingas’. With a pole-mounted lantern swaying above her head, she was nestled in the back of a wagon and bundled up in layers upon layers of warm wool clothing. Even now in this fierce weather she continued to flip through her books, holding the pages still with her oversized mittens.

“Brigands?” another merchant a bit further up front asked as he pointed to a small hill adjacent to the caravan’s path. Several looming figures had begun to appear in the distance, mere silhouetted blots barely visible by the lights of the caravan. The merchants had taken to arguing what they could be. “I bet it’s that darn goliath! She’s set a trap for us! I told you!” He looked over his shoulders, trying to spot Farwalker.

Dannika’s lantern flickered green, which immediately tore her away from the book she was trying to read. She turned and stood on her knees, tugging her scarf away from her face. “Stop the carriage!”

“Stop?!” the portly Waterdhavian shouted. “Are you mad?!”

---

The area immediately surrounding the caravan is lightly obscured. All characters have disadvantage on Perception checks that rely on sight. The area further away from the caravan is heavily obscured unless you have Darkvision or provide a source of light, at which point it becomes lightly obscured.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:45, Sun 03 Apr 2022.

Arno had opted to walk along with the caravan. While he surely could have gotten a horse to ride when leaving his home, it did not feel right for a pilgrimage to be such a simple task. So he trudged along, the longsword hoisted in his left hand, carried in its scabbard, while the right one was kept up to shield his eyes from the elements. As the caravan started coming to a stop, and shouting came on, he stopped and looked ahead, trying to discern what was going on.

"What's going on?" he calls out to no one in particular, simply anyone who might answer with a proper answer. He moved forward towards the lead of the caravan, trying to see what was up in front.

--- ---
23:05, Today: Arno de'Lyon rolled 34 using 2d20-1 with rolls of 18,17.  Perception (Disadvantage).
I messed up the roll but I got 16 (17-1) for Perception

Arno was met with severe resistance from the wall of wind as he trod the snow.

"Blast it all, I would like to know that too!" the merchant yelled as the horses continued to pull the sleighs. "But I'm not about to become food for savages! Or freeze to death for that matter! We can't just stop!"

Off in the distance, Arno tried to discern what the blots in the distance were actually supposed to be. They were far too small to be Goliaths. In fact, they did not resemble upright creatures at all. One was walking on all fours. All of them were.

Rhydd had been walking alongside a wagon ever since some time prior to their getting hit by a blizzard. His job was to provide fresh meat to the caravan whenever possible in exchange for free passage up to Bryn Shander, but attempting to hunt during a blizzard was a waste of time.

~I wonder how far astray that lackwit has led us . . . ~ he thought to himself -- the "lackwit" in question was the caravan's official guide. Given the uneven ground and rocks that were underfoot, it was clear to Rhydd that the caravan was no longer traveling along the road that led travelers to Bryn Shander.

~. . . and where we are now?~ For all he knew, given the weather conditions, their guide had gotten totally lost and the caravan was not even heading to towards Bryn Shander at this point. He had found enough frozen bodies in his time to know that once travelers lost their way in a driving blizzard, it was only by pure good luck that they did not perish.

The hunter heard snatches of conversation which led him to believe that someone amongst the caravan had spotted something or someone off in the distance. He found his snowshoes and began putting them on -- if trouble was headed their way, the attackers would need to be stopped before they got in among the wagons and merchants -- whom Rhydd expected to wave their arms and bleat and run about like sheep if the danger came too near.

---

OOC: In addition to using italics for unspoken thoughts, I bracket my PC's thought with tildes (~) instead of the quotation marks that are used for spoken words. To my way of thinking, that makes it a little easier to distinguish between the two,

Holding his hand over his eyes to try and focus on.. Whatever it was, Arno squints... It was creatures. Wolves, perhaps?

"Looks like some beasts. Are they wolves? Or bears? Do you have them this far up north? I can't quite see what they are.."

Even as he spoke, he reached for his sword. Something just didn't feel right. He looks to the others joining the caravan as guards and miscellaneous.

"A pity that one would think my ways duplicitous." Farwalker's voice rumbled it's way through the wind. She'd been through much worse before, and there was a way to talk that helped cut through the noise. She didn't use that particular trick here, letting her words be pulled from her lips and driven from the world. For the best, that.

For now, she was marching steadily behind one of the wagons, letting the tracks compact the snow so that she didn't have to wear the snowshoes. She hated the damned things. They always made her feel ungainly. Fortunately, this left her in the position of being able to hop into the wagon that held Dannika. The flickering lantern was a bit obvious when one was standing behind it.

She had to squat down so that the two were on a more even level, and even then she towered over the woman. "What do you see in the darkness that would have us stop?" Perhaps a little vague and poetic, but one had to keep up appearances.

Amid Dannika and Farwalker in the back of that particular wagon sat a heavy bundle of furs piled in a corner, tucked into some space between two hefty bags of grains.  Nothing more than spare pelts at first glance, perhaps, but it wasn't long after chatter and shouts came from outside the wagon that the pile shifted a bit and sleek, white-furred cat slunk his way out with a languid stretch.  No mere mundane feline though - an arch of his back to loosen up let free a pair of lushly feathered wings, like those of a snow owl, which fluffed and settled as the cat gave the two women a passingly suspicious look.  A strange but lovely creature to be certain, along with an obviously intelligent intent in his gaze and movement as he hopped deftly out the back of the wagon and clambered up the covered side.

Meanwhile, also from within the heap of furs, came a dull groan and a heavily-gloved hand that blindly reached out to grope around where the Tressym had been a moment prior.  "Nnn... Astre?  Come back, baby, it's... nn... too cold out." a muffled voice grumbled in what sounded like a half-asleep daze before the hand retreated back under cover once more.

Outside on the roof of the wagon, the Tressym - Astre, apparently - turned his attention outward to the surrounding area.  The howl of the dense bluster around him didn't seem to bother him all too much; a thick coat and pale color helped him contend with the weather just fine.  Nor did the dark seem any concern either as his keen eyes glowed in the gloom and sharp nose lifted to sniff at the icy winds for whatever traces of nearby life carried in.

Familiar - Perception w/Advantage via Keen Smell
Mallory Bonheur rolled 25, 24 using 2d20+5
Nat 20 on the skill check, if that matters

Astre is using his sense of smell primarily, along with having Darkvision and a Passive Perception of 15 to back it up where visual is concerned.  He'll telepathically communicate whatever he notices down to Mallory and prompt her to link their senses if something dangerous is found.

"Chwingas! Here!" Dannika eagerly exclaimed. It seemed like she was going, irregardless of whether or not the caravan halted. Poised on the edge to drop into the snow below, the green light faded from the lantern. "Shucks."

Animals, not people, Astre saw from atop the wagon-sleigh's roof with his immaculate feline eyes. Their scent carried down to the caravan through the wind, confirming it. Wolves. Four of them, perhaps more hiding beyond the hill. Astre noticed another four of the clever animals trying to stay concealed off in the distance on the opposite side of the caravan. They had not taken Astre into the calculation for their two-pronged attack.

Arno located one of the caravan's guards close by. They did not number more than two, apparently having been cut to save coin, as one had complained. Salim, Arno had come to know him as. Both the hired guards carried crossbows and shortswords at their hip. "Would bears attack a caravan like this?" he shouted as he shielded his eyes. "Wolves, certainly! People aren't the only ones who's been starving in these times!"

Rhydd's suspicion was turning true - the merchants had caught whiff of what was coming and were yelling among themselves, some expressing regret over ever taking part in the expedition. He had a decent idea of where they were at this moment in time. It seemed Niels, the lead guide, had veered off north-west and continued up in an S-shaped manner, snaking between the hills. While the surface was rocky and jagged, it was curios how accommodating the route itself had proved, all things considered. As if this had been a road a long time ago. As Rhydd finished putting on his snowshoes, Alma, the guide who typically stayed at the back, rode up to him. "Wolves! Are you heading out? I'll ask Niels what he thinks we should do!"

---

Rhydd's mental map would say the caravan is currently around these parts, marked by the red circle: Map

Let me know if you can't access it and I'll find another site to host it on.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:38, Sat 12 Dec 2020.

In reply to DM Bears (msg # 8):

Rhydd turned to address Alma. "Don't waste your time talking to Niels," he growled. "He is the lackwit who got us lost."

He took a deep breath, and glanced around, shaking his head at the panic amongst the merchants. "My advice is to see if you can get these people to pull their wagons into a rough circle."

"'Twill give them something to do. And if they are busy doing something, hopefully 'twill keep them all from pissing themselves in fear  -- which would be bad, in these frigid conditions. It might make the wagons easier to defend, if our attackers manage to get close."

"And aye," he added, "I am heading out, to see if I can put some arrows into whatever is coming our way, with ill-intent."

With that, Rhydd strung his longbow (while the hemp and linen materials that the string was made of had a natural resistance to water, he did not wish to expose the string  to as much moisture as was in the air during a blizzard until he was ready to use his bow), and turned, beginning to make his way towards the spot where one of the other travelers who looked like he could wield a weapon was talking to one of the caravan guards.

---

OOC: Rhydd plans to make his way to where Arno is speaking to the caravan-guard.

Bears, can Rhydd (IC) hear the comments about wolves? Thus far he has not made his own Perception check.

And yes, I can see the map -- thanks!
This message was last edited by the player at 17:39, Sat 12 Dec 2020.

The heap of pelts continued to drift between a state of low mumbling and almost-about-to-snore sounds before, with a sudden jerk and a snort, it perked up.  All at once it surged upright to reveal that it was no mere stack of furs but rather a dense array of protective winter clothing and layered cloaks that had been bundled up tight about their bearer.  Namely, a well-dressed young woman who staggered up onto her boots with a half-asleep wobble and suddenly wild look in her eyes, as if she'd taken a fright out of nowhere.

"Wolves!  Wolves!" Mallory yelped from inside the wagon, certainly loud enough for the others to hear and risk spooking some less-prepared folk in her haste.  From their nearness, Dannika and Farwalker could each see the young woman appeared blind as her eyes were clouded over and white, unfocused on anything as she stumbled around the back of the wagon bumping into things in her panic.  "Four wolves ahead!  Four more hidden to the southwest, flanking us!  Guards!  Guards!"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:17, Sat 12 Dec 2020.