I’d been stuck in Bryn Shander for the last two years. After witnessing Sir Reginald be torn limb from limb by the yeti, I took up residence at the North Look Inn and Tavern. Scramsacks, North Look’s owner, traded my room and board for performances. It wasn’t much, and we both knew that at the first sign of adventure, I would be gone.
One night, in the middle of my set, a group of strangers gathered in the bar. I eavesdropped best I could while earning my nightly supper. Picking up bits and pieces of conversation that included elementals, magic lamp, and something about a curse. As I finished my last song, the strangers split into two groups. I approached the ones holding the lamp.
Did I hear magic lamp?
Perhaps I could join your camp?
I’m no stranger,
to adventures full of danger.
With heroes I love to travel,
please say yes so I don’t have to grovel.
The lamp belonged to Mara Greysteele, and all she said when we sat before her was, “and so the party comes together.”
Seated at the table were Dannika Mendeleev, Wilbert Thornsbee, Xillana Wynrie, Zigran Varenn, Seed, Lloth’s nameless mongrel, and myself. Mara believed that chwingas held the secret to ending the wintery curse, and she asked us to seek out these elemental spirits. To help us find the chwingas, she offered her lamp, which would glow when we were in close proximity to them.
Before we could depart, we were approached by sheriff Markham Southwell. Either out of recognition of our abilities, or just an act of desperation, the sheriff offered us 10 gold each if we could locate a missing caravan. Perhaps it was hubris, but we didn’t hesitate to accept his offer. We were heroes after all and would need to make a name for ourselves.
And with that, I bid you all goodnight. Come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about the time we freed a polar bear and brought some goblin slavers to justice.