CanadienneBacon
Explorer
Character Sheets
OOC
Community
Credit: varg.wikidot.com
The morning fog laid chill in the air, a shroud that hid movement and presence at a range beyond twenty meters. An early spring frost had crept in during the small hours, draping icy tendrils on the first shoots of grass naïve enough to have sprung from the soil. What little soil there was, that is. Mostly, a pallet of boot-sucking mud covered the byways of Neverwinter. The mud was ochre, and its chalky texture clung to the lower third of breeches and skirts with a tenacity to be envied.
Up ahead, porters busily laid provisions on a wagon. Fat barrels, their dungs intact and sealed with red wax, were being rolled up a gangplank and nestled beside wooden crates that bore no stamp of insignia. Neither did the barrels, for that matter. In a city of merchants and guilds that prided themselves on brand recognition, this was a rarity. A small, rat-faced man with a scroll looked up from checking an inventory and, seeing newcomers approach, frowned. "You lot must be the guards Master Rockseeker hired yesterday afternoon." Rat-face handed the nearest one of you a folded bit of parchment. "You'll be needing this. A map of the area. Mind you see these goods safely to Phandalin. And mind the wagon! The lane's rutted, and overhead being what it is, I don't care to replace a broken wheel."
OOC
Community
Credit: varg.wikidot.com
The morning fog laid chill in the air, a shroud that hid movement and presence at a range beyond twenty meters. An early spring frost had crept in during the small hours, draping icy tendrils on the first shoots of grass naïve enough to have sprung from the soil. What little soil there was, that is. Mostly, a pallet of boot-sucking mud covered the byways of Neverwinter. The mud was ochre, and its chalky texture clung to the lower third of breeches and skirts with a tenacity to be envied.
Up ahead, porters busily laid provisions on a wagon. Fat barrels, their dungs intact and sealed with red wax, were being rolled up a gangplank and nestled beside wooden crates that bore no stamp of insignia. Neither did the barrels, for that matter. In a city of merchants and guilds that prided themselves on brand recognition, this was a rarity. A small, rat-faced man with a scroll looked up from checking an inventory and, seeing newcomers approach, frowned. "You lot must be the guards Master Rockseeker hired yesterday afternoon." Rat-face handed the nearest one of you a folded bit of parchment. "You'll be needing this. A map of the area. Mind you see these goods safely to Phandalin. And mind the wagon! The lane's rutted, and overhead being what it is, I don't care to replace a broken wheel."
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