Chapter 1 : Greenest in Flames

For the past several hours, you are all have been traveling on a wagon.
A road, that winds lazily across the rolling grasslands of the Greenfields. History you all know:

The town of Greenest was founded by the halfling Dharva Scatterheart, a rogue who fancied herself the queen of the Greenfields. Scatterheart passed away without ever achieving that level of eminence, but her town grew into a thriving community. Its success isn't surprising, since Greenest is the only town of any size astride the Uldoon Trail, the most direct road between the eastern cities of the Dragon Coast, Cormyr, and Sembia with the Coast Way running south to the great cities of Amn, Tethyr, and far Calimshan. The trade caravans that pass through Greenest bring gold to the town's merchants and craftsfolk, and Governor Nighthill runs the town at the behest of the inhabitants.

A young woman is sitting in the wagon. She keeps her head lowered and covered with a brilliant blue cloak, although folds of amber hair can be seen from within its depths. Across her chest, she wears chainmail made of tarnished metal, with filligree, clearly some heirloom passed down from within her family. "Canst we be reaching the town of Greenest soon?" She will occasionally glance over her shoulder nervously, as though something is hunting her.

Brommyr sat, as he had for most of the day, near the end of the wagon. He liked to sit where he could easily get off and get to the action, if bandits decided to attack, though it had been a lovely quiet day in that respect. His armor, though well-used, was clearly well-kept as well. Gleamed in all the right spots, interspersed with brilliant crimson swaths here and there. A heavy warhammer sits between his feet, and a shield with a large scarlet centerpiece is hung on his back. He had taken his helmet off and had it resting on the pommel of the hammer, letting his braided strawberry-blond hair blow free in the light breeze.

All I'm saying is that I've found better cold-weather foods among the dwarven clans than anywhere else. Even those humans that live up by the Spine just can't quite nail rib-sticking good stews like the dwarven chefs can! he says, in his voice that sounds a faint bit like rocks being rolled against one another. And I reckon that's the town there. Maybe another half hour's ride? Little more perhaps.

The (half?) elven young man with flowing gold hair was dressed in what appeared to be some very fine clothes indeed. He seemed a bit put out having to ride in a wagon like a "commoner", but he hadn't mentioned it for at least the last four or five minutes.

"I seem to recall having had one of those stews of which you speak. Although the memory of the taste escapes me. I will have to take your word for it. I wouldn't mind having a bowl of it about now. It might settle my stomach, I believe the driver is aiming to hit every divet and hole along this road."

Huner (real name Sinavlis). Man (human) past 50 at first glance.
Visual impression of him may as well be misleading: Long unkempt, hoary hairs and beard. Out of fashion clothes mixed with branches and leaves. He seldom gets out of the wagon and walk/run along it with agility of a youngster. It usually happens when wild animals appear at the distance or birds in the skies. Sometimes he even try to mimic bird songs. He behaves like child, doesn't he?
When Greenest mentioned, Hunter looks at the people in the wagon and is looking for words. When dwarf and Half-Elf have ended Hunter cry out aloud:

Greenest! SOON. Soon will we see! The proof of the apocalypse coming. He takes a deep breath and continues in a restful, low voice Though who knows you may be already gone by time the evidence will be be shown. The young lady don't seem to seek a place to settle. He look away and mutter something like "People, they never have enough! Humans, it is always humans who always want changes."

The young woman scowls slightly, tugging at the nape of her cloak again to make sure that it is securely fastened. She leans forward so that her hands are resting in her lap. "Sometimes changest is laid at our doorstep." She takes another glance over at Hunter, although she does not look up. "Seeketh I only the change of scenery, hopefully this greenest village will appear above the horizon soon. Wouldst like to rest mine eyes." She covers her mouth with the palm of her hand.

"It is interesting. I too feel a bit tired, but I just slept last night. I really don't remember why I wanted to go to Greenest. It seemed like the right place to be. It is where my lord wishes me to be, of that at least, I am certain." he pauses for a moment as if remembering something else.
"Oh yes. How terribly rude of me. I am Xarathon." the name seems quite odd for an elf. Even half of one.
"I do hope we arrive soon. All this jostling is making me a bit queasy. I don't think I've traveled in such a manner before."

Brommyr smiled at Xarathon's half remembered recollection of what was undoubtedly either the potato and leek soup that he grew up with or the heavy beer and beef stews that his southern cousins were more fond of.

Perhaps on our travels we will find some. They, unfortunately, don't make for good travelling fare given how long they need to cook down. I've found halflings make the best travelling foods. he finished up, half listening to the semi-deranged looking woodsman. Aye, changes in scenery are good, they keep the world bright and fresh. Worry not Xarathon, with as many travelers as Greenest gets, I'm sure we'll find some good cracker porridge of something that will help quell the belly of the beast. he says with a genuine smile. I have a good friend, Ontharr, who asked me to head this way. He knows of my appetite and appreciation and would never send me somewhere that I would be disappointed by the fare. In the meantime, I find that picking a spot on the horizon and staring at it can help your gut with the queasiness.

Sundown is approaching when you top a
rise and see the town of Greenest just a few short miles
away. But instead of the pleasant, welcoming town you
expected, you see columns of black smoke rising from
burning buildings, running figures that are little more than
dots at this distance, and a dark, winged shape wheeling
low over the keep that rises above the center of the town.




Greenest is being attacked by a dragon!

Xarathon gazed into the distance and his gaze fell upon the silhouette of the dragon. The sight was enough to drive fear into the sturdiest of men, but it strangely filled him with only a deep hatred that came from the very center of his being. From the smoke, he knew it must be red. They alone, of all the chromatic dragons, breathed fire. How he came by that knowledge he did not know, but he was sure of its accuracy. At least an adult.

"It must be destroyed." Xarathon said matter-of-factly.

He hopped from the wagon, and strode forward as if to singly-handily slay the beast. Then suddenly stopped, as if he had realized something important. As sure he knew what it was, he knew that despite his power he was not equipped to deal with it, not here, and not now.

Xarathon looked back at the others to see what they would do.

The young woman clambers down the side of the wagon. Her eyes seem to water, though whether this from the soot playing off the town or something else is uncertain. She turns away before pretending to cough in embarrassment.

She strides over to Xarathon's side, reaching out a slender arm to bar his path. "Thou seekest your own demise. Nought that we can do against a dragon."

Wise words, lady. To distinguish fire you don't water the fire, but the wood. woodsman talks slow to let everyone grasp his riddle.
For a moment he looks lost in his thoughts Every tree have a root... seems like he say to himself.
But soon he speak to others telling that his destiny is to risk his life investigating the reason of what has just happened in Greenest, he advice others to save their lives and wait for the creature to disappear.

With a faint grumble, Brommyr slips his helm onto his head. May as well stay in the wagon for now, still have a few miles to go. If that beast up there is still there when we arrive, we'll want to be well rested and not achy from a forced march. He says, feeling the grips of his warhammer as if approaching a dragon destroying a town was an everyday occurrence for him. That said, it seems to point towards what Ontharr sent me here for, a rise in draconic activities. Seems he was right.

"Hmm.." Xarathon seems to grudgingly accept the words of Jaelyn and Brommyr. He hops back up into the wagon and urges the driver to go faster.

Jaelyn will cast one last look to the horizon. Then she clambers back into the wagon as well, begrudgingly. "Forsooth, there is nowhere greenest to go." She makes a show of adjusting her hood again with a nervous hand.

As you approach to Greenest you can see ------>(look at roll20 map).


The cultists tried to set buildings ablaze as they
moved through town, the flames come
from haystacks and barns.
A half moon provide dim light throughout the town.
The inside of the keep is brightly illuminated.




What are you gonna do now?

Hunter jump off the wagon, grab 3 pebbles and pronounce magic words I have to see the keep, anyone with me? Without waiting for answer Hunter start silently running toward the keep, but try to stay off the main road (hide behind houses that I see in roll20).

You can see a chaotic town under attack.
An attack from cultists, bandits and kobolts looting houses and Greenest guards defending it and fighting.


(you need to put your token on roll20 to tell you @Greyword, if you want to go to the keep alone and roll stealth)