Merric's Tales [D&D]

Chapter 1

I began my trek east at the first light of day. Before long I arrived at Luskan, a great mighty town with plenty of adventurers and opportunities. I ran into a dwarf called Gundran Rockseeker. He offered me coin and adventure, even if not as grandiose as some of the tales I had heard. You see, he had gathered a group to escort a cart of supplies to Phandalin. It was an odd mix of people from all over. There was a half-Elf, a Dwarf, a few Dragonborn, and an actual Elf. With this group gathered, we left.

On the day that we left, I felt uncomfortable. Those Dragonborn gave me the creeps. One would not stop staring at our Elfling druid, and another kept eyeing me! I could not tell if it was female or not, but it seemed awfully interested in me. Comfort aside, I rode on this cart. It was pulled by oxes, two of them, and held plenty of bags and barrels full of supplies. It was like the freight caravans of old Glasshill! Remember those? They would barge into town on their ponies, their pouches and bags stashed full of goods and foods.
We made our way down the swerving roads, dirt paths and dusty ways. Trees along the road kept us company between the empty hills and barren plains. Before long, we had arrived at the great town of Neverwinter. Truly a sight to behold! A bubbling center of merchants and travelers, with packs and stands all around the open town floors. Meats hung from hooks, fresh fish, vegetables, and fruits more varied than I could ever imagine. Now, off we went. Most of our group immediately rushed to the inn, deciding it was of greater importance to get drunk than to be prepared for our mission. I took two of my friends, a rather wide Dwarf going by the name Rondoror Richsurge and a weird, frowning Elf known only as Jelan Grumpy. An odd name for an Elf to be sure, and most likely an alias.

Regardless, I am getting carried away. Now, before we continue, I must assure you of a few things. Not all Dwarves are grouching, bothersome people. On that very same coin, albeit on the other side, not all Elves are fantastic creatures of grace and kindness. In fact, these two I worked with, they both seemed to be a mix of both sides. The Dwarf was far friendlier than I expected, but that may have been because my expectations were as low as the crumbs lie on the street. As for the Elf, he was a handful. He was a tad sharper than the Dwarf, but not by much. They were both nice to be around, and the Elf led the way to our first stop for the day. A general store called Graver's Goods.

Now, you have to keep in mind, we were promised a grandiose store with supplies as far as the shelves could reach. Fresh foods stacked on top of one another, and equipment new and ready for use. Our master sure had a way of making things sound more wondrous than they were. The store was little more than a pile of broken tools and dusty rations. Nonetheless, I whipped up a coin from my beautiful leather pouch, and got us the food required for the trip ahead. In fact, in my astonishing bartering, I even secured a bucket worthy of being called a helmet. And, if you can not believe that, it gets even better! You see, I had found this broken fishing rod in the pile of junk, and was able to take it with us for free! No extra costs, no favors, just a friendly smile and a wave. All that was needed to make this useful was a piece of string and a few fishing hooks. Clever readers may be wondering how we would even keep the fish fresh after we caught them, but to that, I had a solution. You see, despite the most common use of a bucket being for throwing out waste or collecting fruits in (preferably done in seperate buckets), I immediately realized we could fill the bucket with water too, and keep a fish fresh and even alive until the fire is scorching hot enough to cook.

With this equipment in hand we quickly made our way to the harbor and purchased a few fishing hooks and string. After a quick inspection our resident dwarf mended both the fishing rod and the bucket. For as great as the bucket was, it had a dent in it. The Dwarf fixed that. Now off to the inn where our friends were undoubtedly already getting tipsy. We entered and got ourselves a warm meal and a few drinks. As the evening turned to night, some noises could be heard outside. People from the inn bunched up around the windows and doorway, trying to get a peek of whatever it was that was going on nearby. I however, was tired and hungry. I simply finished my meal and went to my room. The dwarf remained downstairs to keep an eye on the mischievous Dragonborn while the Elf and I got comfortable in our beds upstairs. Before doing so, I hung the bucket over the door handle. A simple but effective method to alert us to any intruders. I believe someone else slept in the same room as the Elf and I. The calmest of the three Dragonborn. He was not as much of a troublemaker as the others, but to say I felt completely unphased by the proximity of the scaled person would be a lie.

Regardless, we all got a good night's rest. In the morning we paid the tavern host and went on our merry way to Phandalin. Gundran and his personal escort had already left, according to the stable master. They saw them head out on their horses around an hour before we arrived at the stables. We took the cart and followed the road south, getting closer and closer to Phandalin. Being a nimble Halfling does have its benefits, as I got to ride on the cart rather than having to walk. Now do not get me wrong, I do not mind a good walk. Strolling around the forests is wonderful! However, for a long trip like this, it does not hurt to be able to sit and relax for a bit every now and then.

We were making good progress when we came across something horrific! Two dead horses blocked the road, and worst of all, they carried the Rockseeker sigil of our master. All of the sudden, goblins appeared from the treeline on our left. Arrows flew at us, but struck only the cart. There were half a dozen of them, if not more. We all readied our weapons and charged at these foes, decimating them. I managed to finish one off with a well-placed arrow to the chest. The rest of the party used a variety of weapons, all in their own unique way. The Dwarf swung his mace at the nearest goblin and cracked many bones where the mace landed. The Elf to my right gracefully cut into another goblin, the two swords the Elf wielded dancing in and out of view. One of the Dragonborn punched, clawed and chewed at the foes. Another one of our scaled companions cast a spell, a bright bolt hitting one of the goblins in the chest and dropping the enemy to the ground a second later. However, despite this clear victory, one of the goblins got away. It ran back into the forest. My companions all charged after him, but I refused. Someone had to stay at the cart and guard it. After all, what if bandits or travelers helped themselves to the supplies while we were gone? That would be terrible. The Elf stayed with me in the end, and the others ran deeper into the forest. We waited, and waited. I found a decent walking stick lying nearby, and wrapped some leather straps around it to form a handle. Eventually the Elf had had enough of waiting and ran into the forest to see where the others had gone, leaving me by my lonesome. I did not mind though, I could look out for myself after all.