Company+of+the+Phoenix+Session+1

 ** Company of the Phoenix Session 1 ** **12/11/2015** **The Call to Arms and the Unrest of the Undead** A dispatch of Purple Dragons and a local militia had been sent to defend the attacks on the city of Arabel. The goblin forces dispersed quickly from there, separating into the King's Forest and Hullack Forest. A declaration of the King was sent to all of the nobles in Cormyr ... a reward was offered of 10 gold a head for killing any and all goblins. Many answered the call, gathering in Knightswood near the river that ran through King's Forest. Upon arrival in Knightswood, 3 young male nobles found familiar faces. Charlemagne Rallyhorn found his cousin, Alaric Goldsword, "Hello, cousin! I didn't see you at the dinner last week..." The golden haired mage clasped his arm warmly, "Charles, good to see you! I haven't seen you since the last winter festival." "It's good to see you as well," the muscled young warrior nodded, "You look like you've put on a bit of weight. Have you been lying about?" Alaric smirked, "It's been a busy summer. It's good to see you're here to use some of that martial skill that your daddy paid for." Their ribbing was interrupted as Alaric's distant cousin, Alix Ebonhawk, walked over to join them, dressed in dark clothing. "Alix!" Alaric waved him over, "It's been a long time... I'm not used to seeing you so out in the open. Aren't you usually skulking about in the shadows?" Charlemagne raised an eyebrow at the insinuation, but nodded in greeting, "Hello, young sir." The young rogue nodded to them both, "Hello! It's good to see you both." "Here to put it to the goblins, I assume?" The green-eyed mage grinned, his red robes swirling about him. "Someone has to be here to take out the trash," the strong warrior agreed, his metal armor gleaming in the morning sun. "I'm here for the money also," Alix nodded. "Ah, money is great... but the fame and prestige are why I'm here," Alaric nodded to him, adding almost as an afterthought, "And of course, serving the King..." "I do it for fun," Charlemagne grinned, "I-I mean... I do it for each and everyone." "You haven't changed, Charles," Alaric laughed, handing him a mug, "Have a drink!" The well-muscled human noble shook his head, pushing away the mug, "I don't drink and fight." Alaric shrugged, "We're not fighting //now//..." "Well maybe just this time," Charlemagne nodded, accepting the mug. While other groups of nobles were forming around the area, Reigneir Rallyhorn, Charlemagne's uncle, approached them, "Gentlemen! We need to make this official... You know how the King doesn't like unstrapped weapons marching about his kingdom. Let's get you some badges." Charlemagne's father, Urthrin, was a large and strong man... a man who could bust through a door if he had to... but Reigneir, his father's brother, was more sinuous and stealthy. Reigneir looked over the three young nobles, "Who is going to lead this soiree?" Charlemagne quickly nodded to Alaric, "These are your lands... why don't you lead us? Take us to the old places... it's been so long since I have been here." Alaric nodded, squaring his shoulders proudly, "I'd be glad to!" "Very well," Reigneir nodded, "Just sign here." He handed a scroll of paper to the green-eyed mage along with a quill, dipped in fresh ink. "Excellent," Alaric nodded, signing his name to the document, "We're now authorized to kill things with pointy ears! How many groups have shown up?" "Five have already gone out," the elder noble nodded, passing the quill to the other two for their signatures. "But none have returned..." Charlemagne spoke with a dark and ominous tone. "Well they just got started," Alaric shrugged, brushing aside his cousin's flare for the dramatic. "Oh," Charlemagne shrugged, a little disappointed, "well that would explain it..." Alix laughed at the two of them and shook his head, signing the document. Reigneir continued on, "I have two parcels of land that still need to be looked into... and as they are both closer to Arabel... you are liable to find some active goblins there." "Close enough to get to by foot?" the young warrior noble asked. "Aye," his uncle nodded, and then looked around the group again, "Is there one of you with a healing talent?" "Not exactly," Charlemagne shook his head. "Other than bandages... no," Alaric looked over their group thoughtfully and nodded, "A good stout priest would be welcome." He looked out over the other nobles milling about, "Perhaps one of Tyr or Torm, one of the justice gods..." As they looked around the area, a line of mounted Purple Dragons arrived bearing banners... the ground shook slightly with their arrival. The Lady of Arabel was with them, accompanied by two female elves... uncommon in this area. The confident young noble approached the group, introducing her elven companion, "This is Tiri'Elenae Embermoon . She has ventured far from the tree folk to lend her aid here." Dressed mainly in blue and bearing the holy symbol of a long eight-pointed star, the pointed-ear priestess curtsied gracefully, "A pleasure to meet you all." "A pleasure to meet you, miss," Alaric nodded respectfully to her in greeting, "An adventurer from Cormanthor?" The Lady nodded briefly and continued, "She has spent most of the last month helping us to rebuild Arabel." "Ah, well it is a pleasure... we do not see elves this far south very often," Alaric nodded. "My brother travels in this area... He sent me word that aid was required," the blue-haired elven woman explained. "Well it's very commendable for you to have come to help out around here," Charlemagne nodded to her. "Oh!" Tiri'Elenae blinked in surprise and then quickly nodded, looking them all over, "Well it's good to see that you all have come to join the cause." "Yes, yes, yes... please sign here," Reigneir interrupted, pointing to the scroll laid out on the table as he handed a quill to the elven priestess. Charlemagne looked at Alix and Alaric, "We finally meet an elf... and she doesn't use a bow." He laughed softly. "Oh! Well my best friend does," Tiri'Elenae gestured to the other elven woman who had been standing quietly and observing, "This is Iowyn ." She had a mix of white and blue hair and carried an ornately carved bow. She nodded to them briefly in greeting. Alaric looked from the elves to the Lady of Arabel, and back to Reigneir, "So you're saying these two will be joining us then?" "Well... I know that the priest will," he nodded, "But I'm not certain of the other." He turned to the Lady expectantly. She turned to Iowyn, "We will need your help here... to reinforce Knightswood." The elven woman nodded, and embraced both arms with her priestess friends before the two parted ways. "As I said..." Reigneir nodded, "I have two parcels of land to the north... you are welcome to either." "Your choice, cousin!" Charlemagne turned and nodded encouragingly to Alaric. The golden haired mage turned to the scout commander, "Which is the most dangerous?" "Well the one closer to Arabel will certainly have goblins in it... but if you take the one that's on the other side of the river, it's deeper into the woods... and you may run into something darker." "How skilled are we in woods lore?" Alaric looked around at the group, eyeing each of his 3 companions. Tiri'Elenae and Alix both nodded to him that they had some knowledge of the woods. The gold haired noble nodded, "Very well then... let's take the one on the other side of the river... into the woods. We will track down these miscreants." "Excellent! You are welcome to return here at any time for supplies," Reigneir advised, penning their chosen location onto the scroll before rolling it up and adding it to several others in a case on his hip. Alix took the lead as the four began their journey northward. The forest was dense and travel was slow. Charlemagne made his way carefully, placing his steps between gnarled roots, "It's a good thing we didn't bring the horses, cousin." "Aye," Alaric nodded toward him, "They'd have likely broken their necks!" "Even worse... they'd likely have broken us," Alix glanced back at them as he pushed his way through the heavy bramble. "Perhaps we've spent a bit more time in the tavern than the field," Alaric suggested as a branch swung back from Alix's hand to swipe the mage in the chest. Charlemagne nodded, barely hiding his amusement, "I believe that's part of the problem." Another branch came whipping back from one of the trees as Alix trudged along, and the elven priestess caught it just seconds before it hit his face, "Watch your step, young scout." She gestured to the right where he could see a worn deer path ahead. He nodded to her, and glanced back to the others, "We should probably go this way." The route was much easier going, and they pushed on a ways before night began to fall. Despite his dexterous ways, Alix continued to fight the forest, looking around in the dark for a good place to camp. He stared as Tiri'Elenae stepped gracefully through the woods without disturbing a leaf... "What a showoff that elf is," he muttered to himself as she uncovered a small stream with a canopy of branches that would make a good camp site. Charlemagne easily gathered a pile of wood, and Alaric said a brief word, a fiery magic leaping from his fingertips to start the campfire. Charlemagne took the last watch, sitting with his back to a tree and a book of self-written poems in his hand. He held a quill dipped in ink, and as he pondered his next line he could hear squabbling coming from nearby to the north. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but it sounded like an argument. He quickly roused the others who could then hear it as well. Alaric and Charlemagne sent Alix ahead to scout. The dark clothed rogue slipped into the foliage, moving quietly to find a group of 4 goblins who had made a camp on the other side of the hill. One of them had a big rusty cleaver and was trying to saw the leg off of a slain deer. Alix returned to tell the others, "I seen 4 goblins... they seem distracted... but there may be more." Charlemagne moved with speed and determination to burst through the leaves! He slashed his sword wickedly through two of the surprised goblins, slaughtering them in one great fatal strike! "Floyd!" one of the goblins shouted in shock as he watched his brethren splatter over the hill. He barely dodged an arrow from Alix as he moved toward his dead friends. Alaric stayed behind his armored strong cousin, sending out a small burst of flames. The fourth was digging through a bucket... he grabbed something greedily, "Got it!" and took off running through the woods as three more goblins lifted their heads from the stream, drawn by the sound of battle.

Charlemagne raised his sword to stab straight through the goblin's head who was rushing to his slaughtered friends! Alaric stepped to the side of his cousin and raised his hands up to shoot a cone of flames, evaporating 2 of the goblins, who were running toward them from the riverbank, into embers! Alix shot his bow after the goblin running with his treasured find, but the arrow zipped over the short creature's head. Tiri'Elenae dashed forward to stop him, but her sword whipped past the quick goblin, just short of his back. Another of the goblins dove from the riverbank to tackle the priestess, but he missed her horribly as his face dove into the mud! The warrior ran ahead, chasing after the escaping goblin. The mage stepped closer to the muddied goblin on the ground, his hands changing into clawed talons as he swiped the little creature, taking it's life in one fatal strike! He looked up at the priestess, his claws fading back to hands as his eyes glinted with a narrowed dragon-like pupil. Tiri blinked in surprise and looked him over with a raised eyebrow. The dark clothed scout steadied his bow and shot again, the arrow clipped the shield on the goblin's back just enough to make him drop his treasure. The elven priestess took her eyes from the mage and dashed ahead through the mud to stop the goblin, but the little green monster pulled the shield from his back to knock her backward in a bull rush strike! Charlemagne and Alaric moved up through the mud, chasing behind the priestess as Alix shot a third arrow... this one striking precisely through the goblin's head and dropping his body to the ground! Charles nodded back to the scout and clapped his hands, "Well done. Let's collect the heads for trophies!" He lopped one of the heads off with his sword and then dropped it as he quickly grabbed a quill pen from his pocket, "Wait! I got another line!" He pulled out his worn leather covered book to write on one of it's pages. Tiri raised a curious eyebrow and then picked up the strange blocky ivory-like idol the goblin had dropped in the mud. Alaric joined her. It had only the faintest hint of magic on it. He looked her over as a large purplish bruise was growing on her fair skin, and there was blood on her gossamer robes from the torn flesh beneath, "Are you alright? You look hurt..." She smiled and nodded confidently, "I'm alright. It's nothing that Corellion can't get me through." He looked her over again and shrugged, "Alright... if you say so. You're bleeding you know." He pointed at the darkening wet mark. "You gonna make it?" Charlemagne stepped up beside them, looking over the elf. "I will most assuredly... make it," she nodded, her words pausing as she stumbled over the strange local verbage that she took to mean 'to live'. "Ah, that is unfortunate," he nodded to her, lopping off another goblin head. "UNfortunate?" she blinked in surprise, "That I'll be alright?" "No...no..." he shook his head, gesturing toward her injury, "That you got hit, of course." "Oh," she nodded, still looking uncertain. Alaric patted her shoulder, "Charles has an interesting sense of humor." She nodded to him. Alix stood quietly, surveying the area as the other three chatted and collected the gore of their proof. An orc horn sounded somewhere in the distance. "My friends," he interrupted their chatter, "I hear ." All three heads whipped toward him in alarm. Tiri began surveying the area as she pulled out her longsword and touched the star that rested on her forehead. "We should go back and tell the others," Charlemagne suggested quickly as he stuffed heads into a bag and turned to Alaric, "Cousin?" The golden haired mage glanced toward the deeper wood, "We should at least investigate... see how many there are. Right now we have nothing to report other than a lone orc horn." The dark-clothed slayer nodded, tucking his bow under his arm, "I can scout ahead to see their numbers." "Do not alert them to your presence," the muscled young warrior warned him. "We will follow behind you at a distance," Alaric told him. "Don't make any noises or step on any sticks," Alix glanced over his shoulder before he slipped into the shadows, his steps quiet... ever cautious, knowing orcs were ahead. The others waited several minutes and followed in slowly. Alix peeked through the bushes and the foul smell was overwhelming... There were a couple of large tusked orcs who had rounded up a bunch of goblins, "Come on, let's move it! Humies are about." The young noble scout carefully crept back out, a stick snapping under his foot. He froze still, but it seemed the group didn't notice over the sound of their own racket. "What did you find?" Alaric asked as his Ebonhawk cousin hurried along the shadowy path, getting closer. "There are goblins... 10, maybe 12... they're working with orcs," he nodded, glancing nervously back over his shoulder in case. "What do you think, Charles?" Alaric turned to the warrior, "Think we can take them?" The large muscular noble tossed his bag of goblin heads over his shoulder, "Let's say we take these heads back... have a pint... and talk it over." "How many orcs were there?" Tiri turned to Alix. "3? Maybe 5?" the scout answered, "They were big..." "Well I think we could ambush them... but there might be more... so it might be wiser to go back and get a few more to help us," Alaric looked around at the group. "Let's go back and collect the bounty," Alix piped up. "I think it's wise that you're cautious, cousin," Charlemagne nodded in agreement, "I, myself, think it would probably be alright to attack... but... we should go back." "You're right... What does the healer think?" Alaric turned to the priestess, "You're the one that's injured." "I shall carry her," Charlemagne flexed his muscles, looking chivalrous. Alix stepped between the warrior and her, shaking his head, "Don't mind the large brute." "3 orcs... and maybe a dozen goblins?" Tiri looked deeper into the woods, ignoring their banter as she rested her hand on the hilt of her longsword, weighing the odds, "If we go back for help... by the time we get back, they'll be gone." "You kids have fun..." Alix shook his head, "I'm going back to enjoy the bounty we have." "Let's see if we can find out more about what's going on back at the camp," Alaric agreed and signaled for them to move with caution back toward Knightswood. Taking a day to travel back, they made camp again by the riverside. Charlemagne pulled out one of the goblin heads, puppeting it in front of him as he spoke with a goblin-like squabble, "I had a terrible day... what about you?" Tiri laughed and shrugged, "Eh, it wasn't as bad as yours." Charlemagne grinned wide and nodded. Alaric ignored them and studied the little idol that looked to be crudely carved like a female orc as Alix poked the campfire. Charlemagne pointed and laughed at some of the other groups who were carrying injured or dead as everyone gathered in Knightswood. "That's not the best way to make friends," Alaric shook his head and headed straight for Reigneir, "We got some goblins... but ran into a few orcs, so we decided to come back." "There must have been 15 of them!" Charlemagne nodded behind him. "Oh! Well you were right to come back," the noble scout leader nodded, welcoming them back. "It seemed like they were on the retreat," Alaric added. "How far out was that?" Lord Rallyhorn asked. "About a day out," the mage answered, following him into a tent. Reigneir nodded, putting a couple of pins into a large map where Alaric pointed out the sighting. There were many other pins already on it. "Have there been many sightings of orcs?" Alaric asked. "Only recently," Reigner answered, "It was only goblins before." "The goblins were very interested in this statue," the fire mage held up the idol, "It's carved like a female orc... I haven't seen many orc figurines... let alone one that's female. It has a bit of magic on it as well. It seems rather unusual." "Goblin magic?" Reigneir raised an eyebrow, taking the idol to look at it carefully. "Not very powerful, mind you... but he certainly seemed willing to risk his life to keep it," Alaric nodded. Reigneir nodded, "We had a report come in... North of here, just outside of the wood. In Eveningstar... they're reporting that someone has been looting their graveyard. It doesn't seem like goblin work... but would you be interested in checking it out?" "Will there be a reward?" Alix asked. "Captain Greedypants over here," Charlemagne gestured toward the dark-clothed scout, looking at Alaric and shaking his head in disapproval. "Of course," Reigneir nodded his answer. "How much?" Alix asked again, unphased by the warrior's taunts. "If it's goblins... same price, 10 gold a head," the lead noble scout nodded. "And if it's not goblins?" Alix persisted. "Then get to the bottom of it and we'll talk it over... I'll take care of you, boy," Reigneir nodded. "Very well," Alix seemed to accept the answer. Tiri stared a little bewildered at the exchange. Alaric leaned over and whispered to her, "The Ebonhawks are a merchant family." "Ah, I see," the elven woman nodded. "We will be glad to check this out for you," Alaric turned back to Reigneir, and accepted the quest, "Charles is raring to go." "Ah, that's my boy," Reigneir smiled proudly at his nephew, "Just like his father." "You should have seen him," Alaric nodded, "Those goblins practically exploded he hit them so hard." "I smote them mightily," Charlemagne agreed. "Good to hear!" the elder Rallyhorn nodded to him. "It's going to take him days to clean the bits out of his armor," Alaric continued on and the elven woman wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I can still taste it," the noble warrior agreed. "Excellent. Get yourselves a meal and some rest. Leave at first light?" Reigneir asked. The group agreed, heading for the door. Alaric gestured toward Tiri'Elenae, "We need to get our elf patched up." "Are you in need of patching up, Miss Embermoon?" the noble scout leader looked over to her. "Not necessary," she shook her head, placing her hands on her own injuries and spoke a few words of magic in a whispered prayer to Corellion, healing the wounds as though they were never there... leaving behind only the blood on her clothing. The four gathered in the dining hall, eating and drinking, and joining in the tall tales of great battles. There was a story from a group who had traveled to the east that had disappeared... All that remained when another group tried to find them was enormous pawprints in the mud. Wolves perhaps... or worgen. "Werewolves?" Charlemagne asked, swerving a little in his drunken steps. "We don't say such things!" nervous whispers swept through the crowd as they made holy symbols in the air around them. Iowyn joined Tiri, "I was part of the search party... there was no sign of the party anywhere... only the pawprints in the mud." "You didn't recognize the tracks?" the priestess asked her friend. "It looked like a wolf... a BIG wolf," she answered. In the morning, the group gathered 4 fine horses, following the riverbank to the north and slightly east. Everyone had trouble as they traveled over the rocks, in and out of the water, and over logs. Charlemagne and Tiri'Elenae both quite nearly fell out of their saddles. Finally they reached Eveningstar... where a temple to Lathander stood among the buildings. A golden statue to the god of the sun stood in front of it. An odd gathering of smart winged cats resided in the area... a favorite location for wizards to come for familiars. The local inn was clean and the pleasant smell of cooking food came from inside. "Ahhh civilization," Alaric sighed with relief, sliding off of his horse. "Is that what you call this?" the young elf slid off of her horse as well, looking around at the small human village. "It's better than sleeping on the ground... or some leaf hut," he gave her a sidelong glance with a raised eyebrow and she smiled and nodded, conceding. A plaque reading The Lonesome Tankard hung over the door of the inn. The 3 noble men recognized the name... it was an inn renowned for it's good food and ale. "It wont be lonesome for long," Alaric nodded over his shoulder at the inn, escorting their horses to the stables. "We could turn it into a dive as soon we get there," Charlemagne laughed with glee. "Now, now... control yourself, cousin," Alaric shook his head at the young warrior, "You don't want to get thrown out and be banned from ANOTHER inn for life." "Another?" Tiri raised an eyebrow. "Don't ask..." Alix shook his head. "It's a woesome tale," Charlemagne echoed dramatically behind them. A small contingent of Purple Dragons sat at a table inside the inn. They rose and nodded in greeting as the group of four entered, un-knotted weapons strapped onto hips and backs. One of the guards waved, "Welcome, can we see your badges? And what is the name of your company?" The four all held up badges with a symbol of a black hawk in front of an emblazoned moon, with a horn in one claw and golden sword in the other. Alaric nodded to the guard, answering, "We're the Company of the Phoenix." "Excellent, we have had several nobles come by already," the soldier nodded, welcoming everyone in. "We were sent along by good Charlemagne's uncle... he said there was something going on in the graveyard?" Alaric prodded curiously. "Oh yes," the guard nodded, "Let me take you to Father Duncan." "Of Lathander?" Alaric asked. "Aye," the soldier led them to the temple. The good priest of Lathander welcomed them in, "You've gotten word then! Excellent!" Duncan took them through the gate of the graveyard, showing them the a half dozen graves that had been disturbed. Dirt was scattered around them like someone had been digging. "What was stolen from these graves?" Alix asked. "The bodies," the priest nodded grimly. Alaric looked up with concern, "That's never good... that wreaks of necromancer to me." "Necromancers?" Charlemagne looked over at him worriedly. "Foul mages that use magic of the dead," Alaric spit out the words like they left a bad taste in his mouth. The four looked over the disturbed graves... there didn't seem to be a pattern... nobles and peasant alike as well as ancient and fresh deaths. As they studied the graves, Charlemagne shuddered, whispering to his companions, "It looks like they clawed their way out from their own graves... it looks like... the undead!" Tiri and Alix studied the tracks around the freshest disturbed graves, finding that they led to the mountains, away from the village. Father Duncan passed each of them five vials of holy water, "You may need these." They slept with alternating watches over the graveyard... Alaric looked over the cemetery to see a strange flickering black fire disappear into a grave... and then bony hands began digging their way out. The young mage woke the others, "We need to follow it... see where it's going." The group quickly gathered their gear and arrived at the gate to see the zombie corpse burst out of the dirt and take a few steps to fall to it's knees and claw up the grave next to it! It pulled the top half of a corpse out of it's grave as the spine broke... leaving the bottom half in the grave. It shambled slowly north toward the mountain... the winged cats giving it a wide berth. Together, the skeleton and it's half of a companion helped each other climb as the four watched in horror... It would sling the half of a companion up, holding onto it's hand, as the half would grab on to a ledge above and help to pull the other up. The group continued following slowly. Eventually the corpses moved into a crevasse in the mountain, moving with purpose as though being called. The group made a camp on the mountainside to rest for the night. Over the course of the night, another zombie shuffled in from another direction and also entered the crevasse. Just how many graveyards were these things coming from? In the morning, the group delved into the crack in the mountain to find a pair of lit braziers lighting up a door. "I've got a bad feeling about this," Alaric shook his head. "You and me both," Alix agreed, carefully opening the door. "We have to do what we can... for our families," the mage nodded forward. "And for the King?" Charlemagne questioned as he followed. "And for the ladies," Alix winked back, stepping into the door, leading them in. A long dark hallway eerily welcomed them in. Alaric created a magic light behind Alix as they continued on. They came to a large room where corpses littered the ground... bones were everywhere. An archway was on the other side of the room. "Perhaps we should burn them to the ground?" Charlemagne whispered. Alaric swept a detect magic over the room... it wreaked of necromantic magic. The golden haired mage began raking the corpses into a pile... a hiss of escaped air seeped up... and the corpses began moving on their own. Tiri was muttering prayers over and over on her lips, pressing the star symbol against her forehead. Alix led her off to the farther side of the room as f ire poured from Alaric's hands over the pile of bodies with Charlemagne at his side. At least 30 of the zombie bodies became cinders floating in the air... Tiri and Alix could feel the ground begin to tremble under their feet... and the corpses around them began gasping for air. The priestess's eyes widened as she turned back to the mage, "What did you do?!" "Put them to rest..." he answered proudly. She shuddered, "I think you woke something else up." "Prepare for battle," Alaric nodded to her as he began edging back out of the door. Corpses running from below... came pouring through the archway! Charlemagne paled and bolted out the door, running full on in fear! Alaric's eyes widened and he called for the retreat to the priestess and slayer! Tiri bolted, her feet faster than the heavy-armor weighted warrior. She caught up to him, weaving a spell over him to clear his mind and give him courage. The power of the undead shed from his mind, Charles continued on, glancing back to make sure Alaric and Alix kept up behind them. The four ran back out of the mountain, sliding down the rocky dirt path on the side. The zombies inside didn't pursue beyond the door... Alaric described the event to Duncan, the priest of Lathander, when they returned with haste to Eveningstar. Tiri'Elenae clutched her symbol of Corellion, pouring holy water over the remaining graves, and spoke many prayers over the graveyard... the others watched her chanting in elven for hours. Alaric was the only one of the three who understood her, but he made no effort to translate or react to any of her words. A quiet seemed to fall over the graveyard as the young priestess fell to her knees in the dirt, exhausted. Charlemagne stayed with Tiri as Alaric and Alix rounded up some volunteer priests of Lathander and the captain of the Purple Dragon guards from the inn to go back up the mountian with them. He nodded to the priestess when they returned with backup, "This is Cormyr. We stick together." She nodded approvingly as she and the noble warrior joined them. The group moved back up the mountain with purpose... something evil waited in that mountain... and they were going to have to stop it.