Chapter 1: Lady Luck's Curtsy

Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey Stuff

Your aerial supporters sail through the sky, eyes roaming the ground below. Between the two of them, they keep a careful watch, though nothing comes of it. It doesn't take overly long until your crew is able to meet back together at the cave. Your carts and livestock are right where you left them, though the horses have made their way out onto the fields to enjoy some fresh grass in your absence. The day is getting close to over, however, and steely gray clouds start rolling in once more.

You decide to hold out another night in the cave and set off with first light. The night passes without incident, and the weather seems to have blown over without much worry either. The sun breaks the horizon and birds sing their songs through the morning air. You pack your things and start the arduous task of heading back north along the road.

Thankfully, you're stricken with a bout of pleasant weather! Warm sun, gentle breezes, and clear blue skies dominate the next three days. You're able to acquire any food you'd like, and you make stop overs in little villages where rooms are offered free of charge. The next two days, the air turns a touch chillier. The mountains loom in the distance while you travel between the heaving hills of the Crags to the west and the leafy depths of the Lurkwood to the east. Near sundown the next day, you find yourselves crossing the River Mirar, en route to Mirabar. Guards, both human and dwarven, look sternly at you as you pass through the gates in the squat stone walls. Those of you familiar with the area (DC10 INT check) recognize that you are finally at the base of the mountains that have been your target since you left the crazed old man, Fecksmith. You are easily able to fine a tavern that appears to cater more to travelers than to local miners and secure cheap, but passable, rooms for the night.

You find your group seated around a nicely maintained wooden table in the corner of The Griffin's Gullet, steins or cups of whatever drink you desire. Plates of hearty meat and shallow bowls of thick stew sit in front of each of you.What to do and where to go/plan for the next steps.

One of the humans moving around the tavern with mugs of ale stops by your table briefly, watching in wonder as the pair of avians dine alongside a dragonborn, as if she'd never before seen your races up close.

'Scuse me for pryin', but what kind of a dead place are you lookin' to find? she says, a bit nervously.

There's lots of tombs, all through the mountains. Dwarves bury all of their dead down there. Same with some o' them gnomes. That's a bit like askin' do you know that blade of grass on the ground or that pebble on the beach. the woman says, with a light scoff in her voice.

The barmaid looks at Baraq with a strange look. King with the Long Arms? I've never heard of such a person. Usually it isn't the arms that people remember when talking about length! she says, not even blushing at the comment.

Lord of the Long Reaches? I'm not familiar with the name. You may want to find Balandur though. The damned old man remembers every person that ever trod Toril, yes he does. He's over in the keep, but I wouldn't seek him out til morning. He retires early, old like he is. she says, winking at Rolen, quite taken with the man's look.

You all tuck in for the night, either in bedrooms or atop the steep roofs of the inn itself.

The nice passes blissfully without incident and you are able to awaken pretty much whenever you'd like.

Baraq and Aera, in the morning, you see schools of fish swarming up the river you crossed the night before, if you were feeling floppy for breakfast.

For the rest of you the inn puts out a spread of fruits, meats, eggs, and breads in the morning. A small placard declares the price to be 5 copper for a plate, or 1 silver for an all you can eat pass.