A Temple is a Terrible Thing to Waste...

Inside the Mind of a Monk
Rhobins Dreams part 1, 2 & 3.

Every night for the past 2 tendays I've had the same dream. Four weapons a trident, a spear, a dagger and a pick. 

It's disturbing but not nearly as disturbing as the one I had a couple of nights ago. This time I dreamt of only one weapon the spear.  It appeared to me in great detail. It is silver, with dark sapphires on its filigree surface. I held it upon a mountain top that over looked a canyon. When I held it up to the sky, I morphed into an unrecognizable form and lightning struck me.  I awoke from my trance in a cold sweat. 

The druid Alaine left me with more questions than answers but I did as he said nevertheless and meditated on it.  As I walked on along the Long Road it came to me.  Yesss! A spear is made to fly through the air… I held it up to the sky… the lightning… it is all so clear to me now… but why the spear by itself.  There must be a meaning why I dreamt of the spear by itself.  I will put my faith in Mielikki. She will guide me I know. 

Tonight, I dreamt again… a new dream. I dreamt of the trident. Forged of polish steel and decorated with bronze barnacles along the upper part of its haft. Sea green colored jewel are embedded just below the tines and a silver shell adorns the end of its haft. I am holding it, it keeps me afloat as a white water river rushes me over a fall. As I fall, my body begins to morph same as before. I hit the pool at the bottom hard, the water envelopes me and drags me under with force. As I drown in the depths I look up at the trident floating upon the surface.  As the waters fill my lungs I awaken to the sound of our gnome friend in peril.  I do not know what to think of all this but it's definitely elemental and it's definitely evil. I am starting to think all of us have been brought together for a greater purpose. Certainly greater than escorting some wagons… of that I am certain.

The Caravan
Recap 8/6/2017

The rains have stopped thank the gods but the rumors of giants, cultists, elementals, and other nefarious creatures being at the heart of the destruction have merely just begun. The rains have ruined crops and led the Dessarin River to flood, thus washing away entire farms and villages. There have been earthquakes to the east that have rocked entire country sides. Brush fires to the South have devastated the land as well. Small fires, proliferated by sudden and mysterious winds, turn into raging infernos. Reputable citizens have borne testament of funnels that just appear out of thin air without a cloud in the sky. Indeed, the sporadic nature and intensity of these anomalies could turn any skeptic into a believer of many conspiracy theories being wafted about.

            Rhobin trained in the martial arts and Vaitiare skilled in the traditions of the Old Faith decide to go visit master druid Alaine for answers. At times it would seem the timid druid prefers the company of plants to that of people but he was most accommodating nevertheless. Alaine said that he had also felt a great disturbance in balance of good and evil. And although he didn't verbally reveal much about Rhobin's disturbing dreams at the moment, he did tell Rhobin to meditate more and that Mielikki, goddess of the forest, would guide him. Rhobin and Vaitiare gave a generous donation to the goddess and were invited to join their druid circle and prayers.  After a fine elven lunch the two departed the serenity of the grove with a positive disposition (inspiration) and a newfound ally.

      While Alen practiced his fencing and Enallis indulged in a hot bath back at the inn, Nish was out doing what he did best, snooping.  He knew the caravan escort to Red Larch would be a long, boring trip, so he'd better get his ear to the ground now and get the skinny on what's really going on. He decided to investigate the obvious choice, the campgrounds, what better source of information than traveling merchants… He heard many wild stories but the one that really resonated with him … Storm Giants! Anything that big can't be trusted thought the gnome. A chill crept up his spine at the thought of encountering such a gargantuan creature. Little did he know Triboar would soon be visited by one.

      Forinzo had arranged a meeting with PC's at the local scout watering hole, the Triboar Arms. He intended to warn the group of the perils they may encounter on their upcoming journey but opted to get considerable drunk instead. Nevertheless the party did learn a bit about the "Haunted Bridge" and got a pretty useful little map of the Dessarin Valley.  But just as they were warming up to ole Forinzo, the town erupted into chaos. A large rhythmic tremor could be felt. At first no one paid it much attention but as they got stronger, you could see the concern in everyone's eyes. Then the horn blew. The Twelve  (town militia) jumped on their horses and hurried to defend the town. A few others followed the commotion, among them several men-at-arms, a few rangers, and eventually the party. Indeed, a giant had come into town and was in search of food of all things. The townspeople did not take kindly to this uninvited guest. Even though the affluent looking sod offered gems in exchange for food and passage through town, the Triboarians were not having it and neither was Forinzo Fomas! Forinzo stumbled his way past the line formation of guards, unsheathed "Persilia" his trusted long sword and valiantly landed head first in the mud by the giant's feet. No one knows what happened to the huge fire opal the giant tried to offer Forinzo as a token of friendship. Perhaps it was drowned out by the voracious shouting of "kill the storm giant!" and "He's the one brought all this rain upon us!” It wasn't until Vaitiare shouted "He's not a storm giant he's a cloud giant" did they even stop to listen. Then the giant began to cast a spell and indeed confirmed what Vaitiare had said by turning into mist like the clouds. The crowd might have been appeased for the moment but they were not letting a cloud giant or any other type of giant into their village. The giant understood, even though he apparently did not understand the common tongue much. The big oaf reluctantly began to walk away. He took 3

steps, then turned around to give one last cry for help, "FOOOOOD" he said in a low somber voice. Rhobin was profoundly moved by this noble and gentle creature's plight. So much so that he said, "here, I know it's not much…" as he handed the giant 5 of his rations, "but maybe these will soothe your hungry some". To which the giant replied as he smirked and pointed at the elf, "you makes gud snacks" in almost perfect common. The sarcasm was not lost on Rhobin.

      The morn came quickly and before they knew it they were on the road. There were 6 wagons in their charge and coincidentally 6 of them. Forinzo naturally took the lead wagon and left it to the group to decide as to which successive wagon each would guard. Vaitiare was not accustomed to being first all the time but she was definitely not used to being last in anything either. "Don't fret m'lady" said Nish with a smile, I will not let you bear the perils of the rear!" "Thank you kind gnome" she replied and with that they were on their way.

      The journey began pleasant as could be. There was not a cloud in the sky for miles and although slow going because there was still a lot of mud (actually traveling at a pace of 2 mph I made a mistake and said each hex was 4 miles..it's 10 miles so still traveling 2 hexagons a day though) on the roads, the caravan was on schedule. The day went by uneventfully. The group made camp on the heels of the Black Maw Bog, not even half days ride away.  Most of the merchants on this caravan are Calishites, known for their hospitality and spicy food. Alen was warned to take it easy on the stew but he kept proclaiming, "this is really, really good" as he went for seconds, "excuse me sir but is that paprika I taste?" and thirds,  "Oh my goodness I just love paprika…mind if I have another bowl?". By second watch, Enallis noticed Alen sweating profusely as he slept and by third watch…"Nish you are gonna have to excuse me just a min…what I mean to say is that I…well you know, I have to, um, go to t…{prrrraaaap!} Oh dear, I'll be right back!" …and as Alen went into the woods to find some relief, a Helmed Horror appeared as if out of nowhere. It stood almost 7 feet tall, full blackened platemail, great shield (also black) , and great helm. Not a word uttered, it just stood there with his gauntlet on his hilt, studying Alen. Maybe it was in awe at what he was seeing or perhaps he was just patiently waiting for the half elf to finish before carving him up? Alen could not ponder the why of this awkward encounter. Alen was in complete concentration with the task at hand and the menacing knight would just have to wait. "I'll be just a sec…almost done herrrrre…aaaaah"… The knight just stared intently as Alen finished his business and stood up, "well then sir what can I do for ya?" It took a few seconds for Alen to fully realize the gravity of the situation. The knight approach Alen and stood right next to him staring him face to helm. Alan yelled, “Nish!” The gnome came as quickly as he could.  The knight slowly takes out about an inch of sword from his sheath and Alen backs up a few steps. “Eh why don’t you be a good pal and go get the rest of the party Nish?”… the gnome hurries off to wake up his comrades. The knight slowly approaches Alen again.  This time Alen breaks and starts to run.  The Helmed Horror unsheathes his sword, sticks it into the ground and kneels before Alen, as if pledging his sword to him.  Alen returns to the camp with a new friend it would seem… at least for now.


The Beginning...
The township of Triboar




The center of town, where the Long Road meets Evermoor Way.  This large area is used by local farmers and traveling peddlers as a market. The leaning 2 story stone tower, is home to the Lord Protector (governer) Darathra Shendrel and base of operations for the mounted militia known as the Twelve.


A fenced in field where traveling caravans could park their wagons, pitch tents, light campfires, etc. 


Same as T2.


Need a horse? a new bit and bridle?  Perhaps a used saddle retored to near new condition?  The Karnwellers will be happy to give you a good deal.


If you know anything about wagons, then you know the brand "Wainwright's Wagons"… at least that's what everyone says up and down the Sword Coast.


Above the store's entrance hangs a polished shield emblazoned with the head of a stylized golden lion on a blue background.  Need to replenish your rations, adventuring gear, armor, weapons? Just ask for Alaestra, she'll be happy to cut you a good deal.  Just don't let any of the locals spot you shopping here if you want to keep them on your good side.


This shingle stripped, skeleton of a building has seen better days.  The yard is overrun by weeds and shrubbery.


In a hurry?  Looking for a fresh horse to get you to the next town before dawn? Maybe you just need some feed or some new horseshoes  Whatever it takes the Widdens and their knowledgeable staff will keep you and your steed on the trail… provided you have the coin.


Run by the very stern businessman, Urlam Stockspool, the Triboar Travelers has a good reputation of getting your goods to where they need to go. Caravans to Waterdeep and back: 600 gold, plus 25 gold for each wagon beyond the tenth. Runs to Everlund and back: 800 gold each way, plus 30 gold for each wagon beyond the tenth. Urlam employs the finest swordsmen, mercenaries and adventurers to protect his clients… but as of late he has had to resort to hiring just about anyone that can wield weapon (insert 1st level party here). The erratic weather for this time of year has the campgrounds stocked to the hilt with customers but until this monsoon resides all the caravans are stuck…literally.  But alas the rains will cease and when they do, Urlam will be very busy indeed. Counting all his coin.


A very nice local inn.  Urgala Meltimer will make sure your stay here is pleasant, just as long as you follow one simple rule "keep your blades in their skins".


A skilled harness-maker named Othovir lives and works here, making the finest elk-skin harnesses in the Dessarin Valley. Othovir comes from a very prominent Waterdeep family (the Margasters) but you wouldn't know it by looking at him.


Smelly, dim, low-beamed tavern, where the ale is warm and wenches are cold.  A couple weeks back a rogue thunder cloud was said to hit a nearby tree, which in turn caught the tree on fire. A sudden wind managed to break a burning limb off and carry the searing piece of wood unto the roof of this dive bar and well, damn near burnt the whole place down.  At least that's how the inebriated customers recanted the tale… Now the place has a new sunroof or should I say rainroof. Lil' tip… don't sit at the southern end of the bar.


An old abandoned inn that is boarded up and covered in lewd graffiti.


This decrepit and creepy looking wooden building serves as a rooming house.  If you've tried the Everwyvern House and Northshield and still haven't booked a room, then chances are you are "sleeping" here tonight… but hey it beats a bedroll in the woods right?


This stone mansion is built on a ridge that overlooks the entire town and is owned by a retired adventurer known only as "Jeb". Said to have killed a hydra with bare hands and wrestled an otyugh into submission, this once cleric of Tempus, has hung up his wyvern wings and now insists on being left alone.  There are four gargoyles perched on each corner of this mansion and everyone knows to steer clear of this place.


A friendly bar with a cordial staff. This place is popular with ranger and scout types. There is always someone here willing to sell their guide services to anyone who's buying drinks.


Need those dents in your armor made gone?  Harriet can do that or forge you a brand new sword. 


Got a dwarven axe, needs sharpening and you only trust one of your kin to do it? Ghelryn will take care of all your metalworking needs… just don't rush him, these things take time.


Halfing and Gnome steeds/children pony rides.


A very fine and stately establishment.  The suites are large and warm and the beds and pillows are stuffed with down feathers… but of course.  There is nothing the Draven Millovyr will not do to keep his aristocrat guests happy. Unfortunately, they do not accommodate half-elves… sorry Enallis… j/k. But indeed no "nobodies" or scandrals allowed!


Want some mutton and potatoes? Not here. However, if you have a refined palate and wish to dine on smoke quail while walking minstrels softly serenade you… then make a reservation.



The town apothecary, a slouched wooden cottage with ivy-covered walls. A wooden sign is shaped like a potion bottle. Herbs, salves, potions… Tarmock Felaskur is the only game in town.


A grove where rangers who venerate Gwaeron, the god of tracking or Mielikki, the goddess of forests, come for inspiration.


An old, partially ruined wooden fence encloses a large, muddy field south of town.



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Sneaky Gnome Dropping Eaves
Forinzo Fomas

Forinzo Fomas


Fuckin Urlam, does he think I'm some two bit sell-sword that can't find work elsewhere? He's lucky the caravan is only going to Red Larch. If he'da sent me to Everlund with this scrawny bunch, I'da told him to shove his gold right up his arse! Fortunately, he's payin more than normal and he's payin for layover. Sure is nice sittin on my pretty arse making 4 gold a day for watching the rain come down. And besides, the southern roads are not nearly as treacherous… however, there is that expedition from Mirabar that disappeared 2 weeks ago…. That's about the time this blasted rain started up. I wish this fuckin monsoon would dry up yea.  I just want to get this job under my belt already! The thought of a'ving to unskin my sword alongside this group of cunts, makes my stomach turn. A band of merry elves, a fairy loving gnome, and a wench?! Is Urlam fuckin serious! Pfff at least I think she's a wench. She don't get up from under her cloak for nobody. Pale blue skin…she'll likely get the lot of us infected with whatever she got. And to make things worse, she looks to be the strongest one of the bunch HAH! I asked one of the elves the other day to pull his metal and when he did I swore I was looking at ole one-eyed Clyde's cock, long and skinny like a fletch Harhar! I seds to him "Oye, what'dya plan on doing with that skinny plank totter?" And eee sed, ahem, (imitating an uppity elven tone), "it's a raper sir!" AAAAHAHA then I sed "Aye it sure is totter I feel like I just got fucked!" hahaha…


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