The Caravan

One of the humans, a large man in robes, clutching a large bag of pastries speaks up.

"Father Belathor Smythe," he smiles broadly, "Wonderful to be here Mr. Mork. I'm headed to Lambor's Hold. Just my backpack and I'll keep that with me."

The man is cleanly shaven but has large grey sideburns and a little hair round the back of his head. A golden sun symbol hangs around his neck. On his back, over his pack is a round shield with the same symbol.

"Oh, hey, me too!" Tassarien chirped, turning to smile brightly at the grey-haired cleric. "What're the odds, huh?" she commented to Father Belathor Smythe. Seeming legitimately pleased by the coincidence, she was still beaming a bit when she turned to answer Mork.


"I'm Taz! And can I just say again how happy I am that you don't mind me tagging along with your group? If there's anything I can do to help out until we reach Lambor's Hold, lemme know, okay?" Distracted by the excitement that came from drawing near to the moment of departure, it took her a belated second to realize she hadn't answered the second half of his question.

"Oh! And no, no cart. Just me." Bright smile.

Auras looked exhausted and little angry, as she had just finished the worst breakfasts she had ever had. it could barely be called food.


"great start to my morning first breakfast now being forced to play 20 questions." she grumbled before saying "oh give me that you'll misspell my name anyway." she wrote her name in common as Auras and lambor's hold as he destination Before handing the parchment back to mork. "sorry, I'm a little cranky this morning."

auras had pure white eyes and was dressed in studded leather armor which seemed not to fit her properly and was walking with a stick that wrapped in red cloth and dyed fur and other bits of luck and knowledge when she heard mention of lambor's hold "your heading there too? Fascinating. no cart here, obviously," her hair was in a messy ponytail and she looked both bored and curious at the same time.

Narissa smiled as she watched the caravan master interact with the others. The elf girl was endlessly cheerful which may or may not become grating, the voluminous human man would doubtlessly end up hitching a ride on a wagon sooner or later and the dead eyed human was very clearly not a morning person. All that remained was herself and the dragonkin starting out his morning with a pint or three in the pub. She straightened her hair carefully pulling it into place so the the transition between forehead and horn was concealed as best as possible, a lot of people found that part unnerving and tended to stare.

"Nar Andariel," she said around a mouthful of oversized canines and sharp teeth. "Andariel." There was a subtle accent to her speech that was difficult to place.

"Nar Andariel Andariel?" Mork inquires raising an eyebrow. "Is that like Mork, son of Mork?"

"No, I’m sorry, it’s just Andariel." Narissa said replied shaking her head. "Haven’t spoken common in a while." She didn’t know why but the name that had been rolling about in her brain since the halflings had found her in the forest felt safer than the one they’d given her.

She was of an average height for a tiefling, with pale blue skin, black hair and dark crimson eyes. Her clothing was mostly blacks and reds, open at the shoulders and neck with a large crimson stone mounted in a wide choker that encircled her neck. She wore crimson leggings and black boots beneath a black faux skirt that reached almost to the ground. Her spaded tail reached down past her knees and swished back and forth of it’s own accord.

"Ah well, well met then Andariel." Mork said with a smile.

Narissa smiled showing off her fangs and other sharp teeth.

Taz watched with interest as the others introduced themselves, her brows lifting a bit higher in surprise when Auras commented on also heading towards Lambor's Hold. One person heading to the same small, obscure little town was a coincidence. More than one person heading there at the same time, starting from the same spot, on the same day? That smacked of destiny, to Taz. Excitement bubbled nervously through her, but it was quite early in the day still, and she'd learned by now that her natural exuberance could be poorly received if left unchecked before others were fully awake and caffeinated. She restrained herself and merely smiled, biting her lip to keep her mouth from running away from her.

This is a great story in the making, I can feel it, she thought to herself, watching as Mort finished up his questions.

"Anyone want a cookie? I have extra and they're pretty good," she offered, pulling out the small paper sack she'd gotten from the bakery. She tried to not single anyone out, but she made a point of offering one to the white-eyed human who'd commented on an unsatisfactory breakfast.

"Lambor's Hold is kind of a small place, from what I hear. I have to deliver a package to someone there. I'm dying to know what's taking the rest of you that way," she said, looking from Belathor to Auras to Narissa.

Auras noticed the cleric's holy symbol of latha something or other. Auras then noticed the tiefling and the dragon born interesting companions for the road ahead. Seeing the half elf offer her a cookie auras shrugged "it has to be better then breakfast. the bar not that high if it set it at all." Auras nibble on the cookie "hopefully we can get to know each other more on the road. Since we are all heading to the same place.

Narissa takes the offered cooking and examines it carefully sniffing it for a moment before breaking a piece off and putting it in her mouth. She chews it awkwardly before swallowing and smiling at Taz, a mouthful of sharp teeth beneath a pair of featureless red eyes. "Thank you." she says trying her best not to expose her fangs as she talks.

She watches Auras bite a piece off the cookie and tries the same. The soft cookie gets stuck between her teeth and she's forced to tear it apart with her hands. Her fangs were definitely not meant for eating this kind of food but it tasted good all the same, her tongue darted between her teeth cleaning the offending bits of cooking from them.

"A package? Are you a cour, a couri," Narissa's brain fumbles trying to find the word, she knew it she'd heard it before, "a delivery girl then?" She smiled again exposing her fangs, Humans like people who smile, She thought, it's a sign of trust among them. A long nearly prehensile serpent tongue came out between the fangs wrapping itself around the largest tooth on the right side before disappearing and doing the same on the other side. Clearly she was still cleaning cookie residue from them.

"Lambor's Hold?" She blinked looking at the priest, the human with the dead eyes and the half elf, "What do you know of it? Do you suppose they have things to fix?"

Belethor looks from his now half-empty bag of pastries to the bag being offered by Taz and back to his own, "Umm, we're sharing then?" he seems unsure, then reaches out to offer his bag to the girl. He avoids looking at the others and shuffles from foot to foot.

"I hope so," Taz replied to Auras, quietly gratified when the grumpy noble accepted a cookie. In Taz's experience, there weren't many situations that couldn't be improved at least a smidge by a bit of dessert. "I didn't catch your name, though. What do you like to be called?"

Narissa's thanks won an answering smile from the bard, who nodded her acceptance. The question about her occupation seemed to catch her off guard, but the brief surprise was quickly replaced by another smile. "Oh! No, not really. I mean--I guess I am, sort of at the moment, but not all the time. Just for this one trip. No, I'm a storyteller and a singer! I am just... I, uhm..." Narissa was licking her teeth--no, her fangs, and for a second it was distracting enough to slow Taz's speech. Narissa wasn't the first tiefling Taz had met, but she hadn't met enough of them yet that they weren't still fascinating to watch. Narissa's follow-up question seemed to snap Taz back to topic, though.

"Oh, I dunno anything at all about it, except that it's small," she confessed, with an animated shrug. "At least it sounds small. I've never been before."

Belethor's comment, and his apparent hesitance about sharing his pastries caused Taz to chuckle merrily.

"Only if you want to! I just had some extra cookies, and nothing breaks the ice like a little sugar, right?" She thanked him but declined to take a pastry, leaving him the sweets he seemed uncertain about relinquishing.

"What about you, Father Belethor?" she prompted him. "What's taking you to Lambor's Hold?"

Arphaxad was almost finished with his fourth tankard of ale and was about to ask the Innkeeper the recipe for the muffins, (There's definitely cinnamon in it) when he overheard someone saying the word ''Lambor''. Noticing that it sounds like the name of the village he was bound for, his curiosity perked up and decided to see who have spoken that place. His eyes alighted upon a motley group of people gathered around a table. He allowed himself a small chuckle noting the variety of races that was gathered there:

Two Humans, one who looks elderly and has a strange symbol around his neck (maybe some kind of priest)the other one looks like she has seen death twice over and was about to experience a third one, (something feels not right with tha' one) an elf which he almost mistook for another human if it weren't for the subtly pointed ears (The lass is practically buzzing with energy) and a Teethling or tefling (curses, should have listened more to da's lessons...) who looks to be some kind of magic-user by the robes.

The last one made the comment about the village whose full name was Lambor's Hold after the aged half-orc caravan master reconfirmed their destinations. All four nodded their affirmation.

Wait a moment...four people, nay five going to the same place at once?

Doubtless, there are a lot of people going the same way as they were but almost all of the merchants, families and others were going through to the capital or far off into the lands closest to the coast. But not in Lambor's Hold. Intrigued with this discovery, he took another pull from his tankard and decided to introduce himself to the others. He sidled to the caravan master and noted the strange fellows that would be his companions in the upcoming journey.

Strange. you're the one to talk he chided himself. standing at almost seven feet tall, a typical size for his Dragonborn ancestry he already looks intimidating even without the scars adorning his body from his neck, to a single line running down from his left eye.The scars are mementos from his time with his father and the militia when they were ''goblin bashing'' around the clan hold's territories culling the burgeoning population of the evil vermin that constantly threaten their home. His thick arms and legs were bulging with muscle developed from the countless hours fighting with the goblins or helping out around the hold whether it be hauling metal ingots for the smiths to use or carrying huge pots filled with food while helping out in the kitchens as he is oft to do. All that topped with a pot belly that will make any respectable dwarf approve shaped by his love for strong spirits and good food. Finally, the dragonborn has a tuft of coarse grey hair on his scaled chin that looks like errant weeds trying to find purchase on a barren hill. A testament to his myriad attempts to grow a beard like his dwarven compatriots.

''I hear you might all be travelling to Lambor's Hold. Well guess what? I'm bound for that way meself!''

''The name's Arphaxad. it means dragonbeard in dwarvish. of clan Blackstone of the blackstone mountains just south o' here. My da's name is...''

The dragonborn then proceeded to name the genealogies of clan Blackstone for almost half an hour before the half orc beside him cleared his throat loudly for him to hear. He was starting to bore the whole group and they were evidently now talking to themselves rather than listen to his droning. ''Ye talk too much lad...I'm worried you might kill people by talking them to death before you can wield your axe...'' He remembered his stepfather telling him.

visibly embarrassed with himself, Arphaxad quickly bowed down and said ''Apologies to everyone...I am at your service...''

A feeling of wetness spread out from his leather breeches to his foot. Perplexed, he finally looked down to see that he have inadvertently spilled his ale on himself while doing his dramatic bow. looking at the now empty tankard at his left hand, he silently cursed himself for his rare clumsiness. ''Ach...bugger me...I'll be back for a wee bit...'', he said moving off to a secluded place to change to something dry.

"Herbs, for healing. My sponsor has asked me to visit and offer any help they may need. I have a talent for healing," replies Belathor to Taz, now holding the bag to his sizeable belly with his forearm, allowing him to hold a cookie in one hand and a pastry in the other, taking bites from each alternately.

When the Dragonkin comes over Belethor's eyes go wide and he can't help but stare as the creature reels off name after name.

"I'm auras." She replied as she finished her cookie. "I'm heading to lambors hold for my own personal reasons but I'm hoping that the food will be better than here. Breakfast here was a horrible disappointment."

"Oh, wonderful!" Taz chirped, trying to distill some encouragement in her tone while responding to Belathor. To Taz's eyes, he seemed the nervous sort, or perhaps just a little uncertain. "You know, I've always wanted to learn how to brew things with herbs. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two, while we're traveling?" But she wouldn't press the matter if the cleric demurred, and would just as happily switch her focus to Auras when the warlock responded.

"Was it? I'm sorry, what a sad thing," she said, the effervescent smile dropping at last as she considered the notion of a ruined breakfast. Her own had been perfectly fine, but she imagined Auras must have suffered a stroke of bad luck with hers. "Another cookie?" she offered, with a shrug and a little grin, trying to lead Auras towards making light of the situation.

When Arphaxad approached, all of Taz's attention and focus swung wholly to him. Her lips parted, and her eyes widened, and without thinking, she reached out and briefly grabbed the forearm of the person standing next to her without so much as looking to see which traveler it was. It was a gesture of excitement and restraint, as Taz had never met a dragonborn before, and was thrilled to finally do so. Thrilled enough, in fact, that she lasted a good several minutes into his introduction before her smile started to falter and confusion began to replace the glee in her features.

"Well, wait--" she started to say, as the fellow excused himself and moved away again. She stammered for another second or two, not wanting to follow the man when he was clearly going to see about changing clothes, but neither wanting him to feel bad about his introduction. She talked herself into staying put, and she turned to look towards the others with a mildly concerned air.

"I hope he comes back," she said. A bit of her smile returned, slowly, then in full. "I've never met a dragonborn before. This is going to be a good trip. I can tell!"

She gave a wave to Mork when he excused himself, and she let her eyes pass over the rest of the travelers who looked to be heading out to the coast. The guards Mork had hired looked competent to Taz's eyes, and she wondered if he was being paranoid in his desire for more protection, or if the road was going to be a more dangerous one than it seemed.

Taking one last cookie out of her sack, she tucked it between her lips to hold it, then rolled the bag closed and stored it in her pack.

Something moves beneath Narissa's cloak and her spade tipped tail comes out wrapped around a the straps of a shoulder bag that's about the size of both of her fists. "I have meat if you'd like." She says to the dead eyed human who called herself Aura, "It's mostly jerky but there's some candied salmon too." The tiefling takes the bag in her hand and giving her tail a small wave as it disappears back under her cloak. "Thank you."

She grins again showing off her oversized fangs. "Some of the first jerky ever made is a little salty but I got much better at making it over time." Narissa pulls a small cloth wrapped bundle of dried and glazed sweet meat. She pulls a long strip of meat out of the bundle and sticks one end in her mouth her sharp teeth making short work of the jerky. Narissa lets out a satisfied sigh closing her eyes and letting her shoulders relax.

She reopens her crimson eyes and looks at the others, "If you don't like it, that's okay. Just tell me what it needs and I can fix it." Narissa looks at Aura, "If you'd have told me your breakfast was bad I could have fixed that too." She smiles not showing her teeth this time, "It's what I do, I fix things."

Having finally recovered from his less than stellar introduction in the Harpyie's Nest Inn, Arphaxad joined the caravan which was now on the move (After returning the Tankard to the innkeeper of course and changing to his leather armor) towards their destination. The trek was slow but pleasant giving him more than enough time to learn more about his travelling companions. Finally as the sun is at its nadir, Mork the caravan master put the whole group to a stop near a farm to camp and rest for the night. Having only packed a sleeping bag and no tent, Arphaxad decided he will just unroll it later and instead try to help out amongst the camp. He overheard Mork talking to the leader of his hired guards (I think she's called Milly) about setting up rotations for a watch. He was about to raise his hand to offer to accompany the first watch when he heard Mork call out again,

"We could also use someone to cook, if there are any volunteers,"

The dragonborn perked his ears at the last sentence and grinned his sharp-toothed draconic grin. A chance to redeem himself after the embarrassing fiasco back at the tavern has presented itself to him like a succulent piece of honey glazed steak. Without hesitation, Arphaxad thrust his right hand up in the air like an excited dwarven boy and said ''Aye that would be me! I'd happily cook for all of ye!''

He said that a little too loud however and most if not all the caravan members turned to look toward the towering Dragonborn as if he had just gone mad.

''Ahem...I mean I could help around in the cooking...'', he said a little more than a whisper to Mork.

Strike two out of three he thought to himself...

As the journey has gone on, Belathor opens up a little more and you realise he is not naturally nervous but admits never having seen Dragonborn or Tieflings before but once he gets to know them, he becomes more himself, not at all nervous and happy to talk about his favourite subject, food.

Though not a fantastic cook, he offers to help where he can and is more than happy to perform menial tasks to speed along the process.

"So, Arphaxad. Do your people, umm, lay, umm, eggs?" he asks, a serious look on his face.