The Return to Caer-Konig

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Completion of Quest: The Unseen

Triumph in the Face of Darkness

Regathering and Preparing

A Warm Welcome in Caer-Konig

Downtime in Caer-Konig

Back to Brynstroth

Preparing to Find Hruna

Player Replies Below

Completion of Quest: The Unseen

Triumph in the Face of Darkness

The Howlbears stand amidst the stillness of the Duergar laboratory, the acrid scent of burnt flesh and shattered glass hanging heavy in the air. Victory feels tenuous, bittersweet even, as they reflect on the horrors they’ve seen and the lives lost. Yet, for all the darkness, they’ve dealt a decisive blow to the Duergar’s plans—or at least, to this keep’s machinations.

Dorf shakes his head, his shield still smeared with ichor, and mutters, “Elves.” He smirks faintly, glancing at Mutt and Orin. “Let’s finish this place off. I want to sleep in a comfy bed. And, honestly, I’d like to go back to Kelvin’s Cairn and visit with some of the, uh, dwarves…”

Azalie exhales, her voice tinged with weariness. “We all have some stories to tell our friends in town.” A soft giggle escapes her as she glances toward Dorf. “Dorf, have you found a gift for Hruna?”

Dorf chuckles but doesn’t reply, his focus shifting to cleaning Precious, his beloved weapon, until it gleams. Nearby, Azalie examines the intricate chain shirt she found. “This is really intricate,” she muses, running her fingers over its craftsmanship. “I wonder what it does…” She sighs, stuffing it into her already overloaded pack. “I can’t wait to get back to town and see my axe beak. Are we searching any more areas? Or are we finally ready to head out?”

Fizzbum, meanwhile, strokes his once-white beard, his mind buzzing with thoughts of fire and fungus. “Fire seemed to work pretty well, Mr. Mutt. With those crystals weakened, maybe we could burn the horrors down in their cells without spreading the spores?”

It’s Orin who finally pieces it all together. Standing near the Runewood trunk, the faint shimmer of residual magic catches his eye. He kneels, tracing the intricate runes etched into the trunk's surface, and then looks up sharply.

“This box—it’s not just a container. It’s designed to neutralize Chardalyn’s effects. If we store the shards inside, they won’t disrupt the runes holding those horrors in stasis.”

Mutt nods, stepping closer. “If the Chardalyn doesn’t interfere with the runes, and the horrors are restrained… Orin, do you think we could destroy them without releasing them?”

Orin frowns, deep in thought, then nods. “If we act quickly. The runes are already failing—the longer we wait, the more likely those things will break free.”

A wave of urgency sweeps through the group as they head back upstairs. Each step echoes through the eerily silent keep, the weight of their plan pressing down on them. When they reach the chamber of horrors, the air is thick with tension. The fungal creatures remain motionless in their cells, their grotesque forms barely restrained by the flickering, failing runes.

Azalie’s voice is steady but solemn. “We have to do this now. If we leave these things alive, who knows what they’ll do when they break free.”

Uptharr, gripping his flail tightly, offers a solemn prayer. “Helm, grant us the strength to see this through. Let these twisted souls find peace in the fire.”

The party sets the plan into motion. With the Chardalyn shards safely sealed in the Runewood trunk, the runes regain a faint stability. Fizzbum and Mutt carefully distribute the vials of alchemist’s fire among the cells, their movements deliberate and precise. The faint sputtering of the runes adds an undercurrent of suspense, every flicker a reminder of how little time they have.

Finally, with everyone in position, Dorf steps forward, lighting the first vial. “Here goes nothing,” he mutters, tossing it into the cell. Flames roar to life, engulfing the restrained horror. The creature writhes in silent agony as the fire consumes its corrupted flesh. One by one, they repeat the process, each vial lighting the room with a hellish glow. Sweat drips down their brows as the last horror is reduced to ash.

As the flames die down, silence fills the chamber once more. It’s over.

Azalie turns to Uptharr, her voice thick with emotion. “Do you think… maybe a prayer? For the souls lost here?”

Uptharr bows his head. “Helm, watch over these lost souls. May their suffering end, and may they find peace in your light.” His deep voice reverberates through the room, a moment of solace amidst the chaos.

Azalie wipes away a tear, her resolve firm. “Let’s go. We have people waiting for us, and stories to tell.”

With the horrors destroyed and the Chardalyn safely stowed, the Howlbears descend the mountain. They leave behind the Duergar keep—a place of darkness and pain—but carry with them the weight of what they’ve seen and done.

Regathering and Preparing:

As the Howlbears emerge from the grim confines of the Duergar keep, the cold bites at them sharply. The wind howls through the rocky crags of Kelvin’s Cairn, carrying with it a flurry of snow that obscures the path ahead. Orin wraps himself tightly in a winter cloak that Uptharr, ever prepared, lends him from his pack.

“It’s not much,” Uptharr says with a hearty slap on Orin’s back, “but Helm provides for all who endure. Keep it tight about you, lad.”

The half-elf nods his gratitude, fastening the cloak snugly around his shoulders. Despite the bitter cold, Orin steadies himself, his resolve evident. He presses onward, matching the party’s pace without faltering. Though the biting winds sting his face and hands, he endures the harsh elements, warmed by the camaraderie of his newfound companions.

Azalie watches him with a mix of pity and practicality. “You’ll freeze before we make it to town. Here,” she says, pulling an extra garment from her pack. “It’s not much, but it’ll help. Mutt, do you have anything?”

Mutt scratches his chin and shakes his head. “Thought I still had some cold-weather gear on the sled, but no dice. What I do have…” He pulls out a blanket and hands it to Orin. “Not ideal, but better than nothing. And if we need more, we’ve got pelts we can use.”

Fizzbum, grumbling as he adjusts his pack, pipes up. “Wolverine pelts, bear pelts… maybe we’ll get lucky and find a flying bug that spits out warm soup.” He mutters something about mosquitoes and frost gnats, then tosses a handful of swamp dirt at Orin’s boots. “That’s for guidance! Keeps you grounded.”

“Thanks?” Orin replies, unsure if the gnome is joking.

The Howlbears carefully retrace their steps to the cave where their axe beaks and sled dogs were left. Mutt whistles sharply, the sound echoing off the icy cliffs. Moments later, a chorus of squawking and low barks answer back, signaling their mounts’ safe return. The party exchanges relieved smiles as they lead their animals from the shelter of the cave.

Mutt inspects the gear with practiced hands, ensuring the sleds and harnesses are intact. “All set,” he announces. “Let’s make our way back. Caer-Konig’s warmth and a round of drinks await.”

Uptharr helps Orin settle onto one of the sleds, mindful of the bruises that still mark his thin frame. Orin’s fingers graze the crystal lock on the Runewood Trunk, safely stowed among their supplies. He glances at the group, a trace of a smile on his lips despite the chill. “It’s strange,” he says, “to feel hope again after all I’ve seen. I owe you all much.”

Azalie claps him on the shoulder, her grin sharp against the wind. “Stick with us, Orin. We’re just getting started.”

With the party ready, the Howlbears descend the mountainside. The biting cold lingers, but the path is clear, and the Howlbears navigate it with practiced precision. Their survival instincts guide them safely past treacherous cliffs and ice-slicked trails. The hours pass uneventfully, and by the time the familiar silhouette of Caer-Konig appears, the party is weary but triumphant.

As they cross into the town, the snow gives way to trodden paths and the warm glow of the Northern Light Inn beckons them forward. Orin exhales a breath of relief, the promise of shelter and reprieve closer than ever.

A Warm Welcome in Caer-Konig

As the Howlbears approach Caer-Konig, the familiar glow of the Northern Light Inn shines like a beacon against the snowy backdrop. Inside, the warmth of the hearth and the cheerful voices of the inn's proprietors, Allie and Cori, offer a stark contrast to the biting cold outside.

The inn door swings open, and Allie is the first to spot them. Her face lights up with a mix of relief and excitement.

"You’re back!" she exclaims, rushing toward them. Her eyes linger for a moment on Mutt, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I wasn’t sure you’d make it... but here you are. All of you."

Cori bustles forward next, her usual no-nonsense demeanor softened by clear concern. "Come in, come in! You all look half-frozen. Let’s get you warmed up."

The Howlbears are quickly ushered inside, where steaming mugs of mulled cider are pressed into their hands. Allie and Cori’s curiosity gets the better of them as they pepper the party with questions. “What happened up there? Did you find the stolen goods? Were there Duergar? Did you see any of those monsters?”

The party begins recounting their tale, from their battle with the Duergar Chirurgeon and the horrifying fungal abominations, to their discovery of the stolen goods and the Chardalyn corruption threatening the region. Fizzbum, ever animated, adds colorful details about the lab’s grotesque contents, while Azalie reflects on the lives lost and the gravity of what they’ve uncovered. Mutt and Uptharr share their insights about the Duergar’s broader plans, emphasizing the danger still looming. Even Orin, despite his recent ordeal, contributes by describing his captivity and the loss of his companions.

As the tale unfolds, Cori quietly slips out to summon Trovus, the town speaker. The Dragonborn arrives shortly after, his silver scales glinting in the firelight. He listens intently as the Howlbears recount their mission, his expression grave. When they finish, he places a firm hand on Mutt’s shoulder.

"You’ve done more for this town than we could have ever asked," Trovus says, his deep voice resonating. "The Northern Light Inn will always be a haven for you, free of charge, as thanks for what you’ve done. And rest assured, I’ll make sure every soul in Caer-Konig knows of your bravery."

Allie adds with a teasing glance at Mutt, “And I’ll make sure the cider is always warm for you.”

The Howlbears decide to stay in town for two days, both to recover from their harrowing adventure and to prepare for the next leg of their journey. Each member sets about their own tasks—some tending to personal needs, others looking into ongoing mysteries.

Options to include in your next post:

As the group settles into their brief respite, the party is left with decisions to make. Over the next two days, they can choose how to spend their time:

1. Pursue free time activities for relaxation or crafting. (Gain Free time only)

2. Investigate the Chwinga quest or gather more information from the townsfolk. (will require a skill challenge for success)

3. Interact with the locals, strengthening bonds and gathering intel about the Duergar threat. (make up to 2 skill checks with description of intent)

4. A combination of the three

5. Extend your stay in Caer-Konig (choosing this, you must have a consensus and decide collectivly how many days you want to remain)

   
   

In addition, the party must decide their next destination. Will they return to Kelvin's Cairn to follow up on leads in Brynstroth, or will they journey southwest toward Caer-Dineval and Easthaven, where new rumors of trouble and missing persons may point to further Duergar activity? Please arrive at a consensus for your next destination.

Region Map

Blue Star - Town you have been to

Green Star - Current Location

Red Star - Potential new places to visit.

Quest Completion: The Unseen

XP Awarded +300 (Orin not included)

+3 Reputation Awarded (Orin Included)

11 Hours have passed

Current Time: 12:36 PM

Date: Fifthhday , 24 , Alturiak , 1742

Temperature: -34°

Current Phase: Exploration

Downtime in Caer Konig

The low winter sun sinks behind the snow-capped hills as the Howlbears guide their mounts into Caer-Konig. Thin plumes of chimney smoke and the warm glow of lanterns beckon them toward the Northern Light Inn, a humble refuge in the frozen north. Inside, the clink of mugs and a soft hum of conversation greet their ears, a gentle promise of hot meals and rest.

Mutt strides through the door, shaking snow from his cloak as he announces their return with theatrical flair:

Mutt’s face alights as the fishing village of Caer Konig comes into view. Guiding the dog sled through town and stepping into the Northern Light Inn is almost euphoric for the bard. While the small, huddled buildings of the village offer a sense of protection and safety, a tavern will always feel like home to Mutt. He glides through the front door and throws his arms out wide.

"Northern Light, your Howlbears have returned! Cori, a round for the house and two for me, if you please! Start a tab if you would be so kind.’”

Cori, one of the innkeepers, beams at the Howlbears’ reappearance. She and her sister, Allie, rush to fill mugs, delighted to serve local heroes. Some villagers raise a cheer, relieved to see the adventurers unharmed. Speaker Trovus, the silver-scaled dragonborn leader, steps into the lamplight and gives Mutt a friendly clap on the shoulder.

As Trovus joins the conversation and claps Mutt on the shoulder, the bard smiles back at the Dragonborn. ‘Plenty of time for spreading news of the Howlbears’ return tomorrow. Today, we celebrate living for one more day. Join me for a round?’

As Mutt settles in near the fire, Azalie approaches the inn less triumphantly. She tends to her axebeak first, then seeks comfort, a bath, and a room:

Azalie gets her axebeak settled in the stables. ‘Good job friend. Thanks for carrying me all the way back.’ She gets the feed ready and adds a few treats to her birds bowl. ‘I cannot wait to get to the Inn. I need a bath sooo bad.’ Azalie sniffs herself as the bird looks at her confused. ‘It’s not like I get anyone’s attention anyways.’

The doors open to the Inn. Azalie sees the girls and instantly changes mood. Her eyes start rolling into the back of her head. As they rush past her and go to woo Mutt. Azalie takes a deep breath and pushes past them.

‘Can I get a room?’ She is ignored. ‘Hello? I would really like to get to my room.’ Azalie just wants to get headed out of this town. ‘…hello?’ Azalie sees the keys hanging. She snatches them and starts to sneak away. She looks back as the girls throw themselves at Mutt. ‘Great.’”

Azalie, frustrated and tired, heads upstairs. The modest room awaits her. She takes time repairing clothes and considering her alchemy and supply needs. Downstairs, Fizzbum returns to the inn after a moment away:

Returning to town is a relief for Fizz! All the corruption and evil magic of the Duergar fortress made him feel sick, dirty, and sad. After sharing a drink with Mutt, Fizz will ask the sweet ladies that run the inn for a room and a bath! ‘Even us earthy fellas gotta scrub sometime right?!’ Fizz puts on the best grin he can manage, and heads upstairs to get cleaned up and changed.

Feeling much cleaner and somewhat lighter of spirit, he returns to the inn’s common area for dinner and a show. Fizz notices Mutt already into his cups and singing some of the silliest songs he’s ever heard. First things first however, Fizz orders a large, delicious bowl of stew and a cold ale to wash it down with.”

As the afternoon progresses into the evening, and the further Mutt gets into his cups, the more frequently he pulls out his lute and breaks out into a random bawdy drinking song, encouraging the tavern to join along.

One such song:

'Twas on the good ship Venus,

By gods you should have seen us,

The figurehead

Was a whore in bed,

And the mast a rampant penis.

The Captain's wife was Mabel

She was ready, willing and able

On the floor, behind the door

Or under the kitchen table.

The captain's daughter Charlotte

Was born and bred a harlot

Her thighs at night

Were lily white

By morning they were scarlet.

The first mate's name was Carter

By gad he was a farter!

When the wind wouldn't blow

And the ship wouldn't go

They'd get Carter the farter to start her.

The second mate's name was Topper

By gods he had a whopper!

Once around the deck

Twice around his neck

And up his ass for a stopper.

He remains in the common room singing and laughing with anyone nearby until he eventually collapses into sleep.

Later, the merriment dwindles to a low murmur. Azalie grows restless and steps out of her room. She sneaks through the quiet halls, checking in on her companions:

Azalie notices the noise dying down in the tavern, the raucous energy ebbing into the calm of the night. Deciding she could use some air, she slips out quietly for a smoke. As she travels through the dimly lit hallway, her sharp elven senses remain on high alert, every creak of the wood and muffled sound drawing her attention.

She pauses outside Dorf’s room, where his thunderous snores echo through the thick door. A smile plays on her lips as she imagines the gruff halfling all cozy in bed, bundled up with Mr. Wiggles, his beloved stuffed pig. The mental picture of him sucking his thumb, his axe within arm’s reach, draws a soft chuckle from her.

Uptharr’s room isn’t much quieter—his snores interspersed with grunts and snorts. She hears the comforting crackle of a fire burning low in his hearth, and for a moment, the sound warms her as much as the flames might have.

Twirling and tiptoeing through the inn like a mischievous spirit, she makes her way into the bar. Callie and Nory are still there, but Azalie barely spares them a glance. They’re not a threat, she tells herself—unless she dares to confront her own complicated feelings about them. She offers a casual wave as they finish cleaning up and head upstairs.

A strange sound draws her attention to the floor. Mutt, the bard, is sprawled out between the tables, muttering nonsense in his sleep. ‘…Can we stick it in here…’ His voice trails off into a snore as a gnat circles his open mouth.

Azalie sighs, kneeling down to inspect him. She gently closes his mouth, swatting away the gnat before it gets any ideas, then drapes a tablecloth over him like a makeshift blanket. ‘You’re a good one, Mutt,’ she whispers, patting his chest affectionately. She can’t resist snagging a few stray coins from his belt as her ‘tip.’ Smirking, she wipes his face to save him from embarrassment in the morning before slipping outside for her smoke.”

Outside, the night air is crisp and silent. Stars gleam overhead, and the hush of the snowy street contrasts with the earlier laughter.

When Azalie returns inside, smoke still clinging to her clothes, she retreats upstairs to her room, eager for privacy:

Back in her room, Azalie wastes no time diving under the fur blankets, her bare skin relishing the warmth of the silken sheets. She stretches luxuriously, rubbing her legs against the fabric as a comforting heat builds in her belly. She lets her hands roam her arms, lost in the sensation, until—

‘Ugh, dammit, Fizz!’”

A sudden foul odor invades her senses from the hallway, some lingering aroma of earth or swamp that Fizz’s arrival brought. The acrid stench shatters the calm Azalie was building. She coughs, gagging, and retreats under the bear fur, muttering curses. Her attempt at sensual warmth ruined, she tries to meditate, but the night offers no such peace.

Downstairs, the embers in the hearth settle into a soft glow. Mutt slumbers on the floor, Fizz dozes in his room, and Uptharr and Dorf rumble away behind their doors. The inn rests, a sanctuary from the cold tundra. Soon, the Howlbears will rise to face new challenges, but for now, this first evening in Caer-Konig ends in a drowsy tangle of warmth, annoyance, and uneasy dreams.

Downtime in Caer-Konig

Morning light filters through the frosted windows of the Northern Light Inn. The common room, quiet and nearly empty this early, smells faintly of old ale and ash from last night’s fire. Beneath a table near the hearth, Mutt lies slumped, a makeshift tablecloth blanket draped over him. Azalie steps in, looking far more refreshed than before, though her expression carries a determined edge.

Azalie

Azalie is up early, refreshed despite the night’s interruptions. She dresses quickly and bounds down the stairs, pausing by Mutt’s still-prone form. She gently closes his mouth again with a fond smile. ‘

Allie, can you get him some water and maybe a coffee? It’s on me.’ She drops the same coins she took last night onto the counter—payment for her mischief.

Allie, the innkeeper, looks from Azalie to the sleeping Mutt and nods, smiling warmly. “Of course, dear,” she says, bustling off to prepare a steaming mug. Soon, the aroma of coffee mingles with the faint scent of cooked fish drifting from the kitchen.

Mutt

As Mutt stirs awake, he groans softly, massaging his temples.

Mutt awakens with pounding head and dry mouth. He feels like he slept with his mouth open all night. Gods, he needed to stop doing shit like that. Sitting up with a start, he pats his satchel and opens it to make sure none of the contents went missing while he was passed out. He notices a few coins missing, but it's mostly intact (could have been much worse, he thinks to himself), he exhales in relief. That was sloppy. He knew better than to get that drunk. Picking up the half-finished mug in front of him (he hoped that had been his), he downed its contents hoping to wash away some of the dryness in his mouth and clear his head a touch.”

Allie soon sets down fresh coffee and a pitcher of water nearby. Mutt gratefully accepts it and orders a simple breakfast.“Once he sees Cori or Allie, he smiles and orders a bit of fried fish for breakfast.”

As Mutt recovers from his hangover, Azalie steps out into the chill morning air. She moves through Caer-Konig’s snow-laden alleys, the sound of her boots muffled by fresh drifts.

Azalie

Stepping outside, she begins questioning townsfolk and travelers, seeking any clues about an outpost or signs of Duergar activity. Her search eventually leads her to Trovus, and she recounts the group’s recent battle, her voice tinged with both pride and lingering self-doubt. She rubs at the spots where Nildar’s axe had bitten into her flesh, shaking her head. ‘At least I stayed on my feet. I thought I was done for, but my friends… they pulled me through. We triumphed over that Duergar scum.’

Her storytelling grows animated as she describes Fizz’s fiery breath and the chaotic battle, drawing a grin from Trovus. With her report finished, she bids him farewell and sets out to find Fizz. Maybe he’ll join her for a bit of foraging or hunting for chwingas. She could use the peaceful distraction of petting some woodland creatures.

Her thoughts drift back to Mutt as she plans her day. She hopes to be back at the tavern before he gets too tipsy—his songs always lift her spirits. The memory of her clumsy performance in their last fight still gnaws at her, but perhaps a new outfit and a good time will help her shake it off.

Azalie's Investigation Results:

From her inquiries, Azalie’s keen senses and direct manner (bolstered by that natural 20 investigation roll) produce a crucial lead: rumors speak of suspicious sightings and missing travelers near a ruined watchtower outside Easthaven. While no one can confirm the Duergar’s exact motive, the whispered tales suggest they are active just beyond the familiar borders of Ten-Towns, lurking near abandoned structures where no guards patrol.

Meanwhile, back in the inn, Mutt has spent part of the morning reorganizing their supplies, brushing off snow from gear, and casting sidelong glances at Orin, still uncertain but now more curious about the wizard’s past and knowledge.

Orin:

having set up in a corner of the common room with his tome and a few borrowed candles, looks up from the runes he’s studying.

Once the group disperses to take care of their own errands, Orin carves out time for his own work. He sets up a quiet corner in the tavern, or a spare room if one’s available, where he can sort through the arcane odds and ends if the Howlbears need, casting Identify on each item the party offers him.

Though the mysteries of the Duergar and Chardalyn gnaw at him, Orin finds himself wanting to pull his weight for the Howlbears. Even as his thoughts drift to the past, to the Duergar lab and the ruins of his old team, he tries to focus on the task at hand.

Mutt spends the next two days largely at the Northern Light and replenishing supplies for the next leg of their journey. He makes sure not to stray too far from Orin, trying to keep an eye on the wizard to see what he gets up to without letting on Mutt’s trailing him. Mutt brings the various potions and bottles he’s collected to Orin to have him identify their contents. While waiting for one of the bottles to be identified, Mutt idly sparks a conversation.

Mutt approaches Orin with a vial of unknown fluid, settling into a chair opposite the quiet half-elf mage. "Makes you wonder why the Duergar would come here looking for Chardalyn, doesn't it? I mean, this is a fishing village and a poor one at that. Why would they think there’s Chardalyn here?’

Mutt idly sloshes one of the potions around in its bottle.

‘In any case, you mentioned your group was out here looking for knowledge. What was it you were looking for specifically?’”

Orin looks up from the tome he’s been studying, gently setting aside a quill that had been hovering over a half-finished note. He regards Mutt thoughtfully, his voice low and measured.

“Chardalyn… it’s never been common, but it’s turned up in strange places of late. My old group followed rumors hinting that the Duergar had found new veins of it, or at least a stash hidden beneath the snow and ice. They need it to empower something—tools, weapons, maybe even these fungal horrors we’ve seen. I can’t say for certain, but if they’ve got their eyes on a backwater fishing village, it could be that they believe a lead—an old map, a scrap of lore—points to something buried close by. Chardalyn’s got properties that warp the mind and bolster magic. Even a modest amount in the right hands can tip a balance of power.”

He runs a finger along the spine of his book and glances at the potion in Mutt’s hand before meeting the bard’s gaze again. “As for what my group was looking for specifically—well, information. We were after the truth of how the Duergar were spreading their influence, how they were using Chardalyn to strengthen their creations. We pieced together hints of someone—some thing—behind their schemes. Before I was captured, we’d heard talk of hidden workshops and underground lairs. I can’t recall all the details they uncovered; it’s… hazy, after what happened. But we believed if we understood their methods, we could cut off their supply of Chardalyn or unravel their spellwork.”

He sighs and taps the table lightly. “Now, all I have are fragments of half-remembered scrolls and murmurs I overheard in that Duergar cell. Still, if they’re here, or even just passing through, it’s no accident. They must think there’s something valuable close by—something worth braving Ten-Towns’ watchful eyes and these bitter winds.”

Fizzbum

Meanwhile, Fizzbum moves in and out of the inn’s swinging door, determined to find new resources in this tiny town

These attempts prove challenging. Small as it is, Caer-Konig can scarcely supply more than basic tools and rations, let alone a skilled locksmith or trained alchemist. No shopkeeper recognizes the peculiar lock on Nildar’s chest, nor do they offer specialized reagents. Fizzbum’s friendly inquiries earn him polite smiles, but the townsfolk merely shake their heads—“Try Bryn Shander or the dwarven settlements,” they say apologetically. Despite scanning frost-covered bushes and tree stumps on the outskirts of town, Fizz finds no Chwingas today, only snowy silence and a few hardy winter hares darting away at his approach.

Summary of time in Caer-Konig

By afternoon’s end, Azalie returns, better informed and prepared to share her findings. Mutt has a clearer head, a full belly, and identified potions. Orin has done his best, though he carries only scraps of knowledge. Fizzbum lingers near the inn’s eaves, feeling antsy about moving on. As the pale northern daylight wanes, the Howlbears convene over simple fare and mulled drinks, weighing their next moves.

This first full day in Caer-Konig has brought them rest, re-supply, and at least one solid lead. The Duergar seem to be more than a localized threat; they’re hiding out in remote places like that old watchtower Azalie’s informants mentioned. Though frustrations linger—no locksmith for Fizz, no deeper understanding for Orin—they have done what they can within these humble walls.

As night falls and the group regathers, Orin takes a seat near the fire, nursing a warm drink as he quietly listens to the others. His mind is still working, turning over everything he’s learned - or failed to.

Orin's Investigation Results:

Earlier in the day, Orin had attempted to ask around himself, hoping to glean some insight. Unfortunately, his investigation proved less fruitful than Azalie’s. He uncovered only vague rumors, nothing concrete about the Duergar’s purpose or leadership. The locals know the name “Duergar” and have heard murmurs of strange sightings, but they offer no deep truths or hidden knowledge—just puzzlement and anxiety. Orin’s furrowed brow attests to his frustration, but he shares what little he can with Mutt, shrugging at the lack of solid answers.

The warmth of the hearth and the murmur of distant voices envelope them. Tomorrow, The party decides they will head out at first light, to search for Chwingas on the way to the Dwarven settlement, Brynstroth.

Player Input:

The new post "The Road back to Brynstroth" will be posted shortly. If you have any extra retro additions you wish to add to this scene, you may do so, but the skill rolls for the Chwinga hunt and the road back to the Dwarves is already completed.

• Please bring Hunger/Thirst into compliance after reading this post.

• Pay all tabs

• make sure encumbrance is in compliance (this includes the weights on your animals)

Stars awarded

2 days s have passed

Current Time: 8:00 AM

Date: Seventhhday , 27 , Alturiak , 1742

Temperature: -34°

Current Phase: Exploration

Back to Brynströth

Retro (Dealings in Caer-Konig)

Two days pass in Caer-Konig under a gentle snowfall and quiet skies. The Howlbears rest, resupply, and gather information, each contributing to the calm before their next journey.

Dorf spends his time fishing by the frozen lakeshore and helping local dwarves with a bit of mining. As he works, his thoughts drift fondly to Hruna and the dwarven halls of Brynströth. The promise of visiting the dwarves again lifts his spirits, even as the others discuss Chwinga-hunting and future plans.

Inside the Northern Light Inn, Mutt speaks with Orin about the Duergar and Chardalyn, careful to mask his suspicion behind a warm smile. After gleaning what he can, he says, “Thanks for that, Orin. I’m going to hunt up some meat for Stout and Ipa. I’ll grab some for your dogs too. Us mutts have to watch out for each other, eh?” With that, he heads outside, crossbow at his back, to secure fresh provisions for their animals.

Meanwhile, Orin ventures through Caer-Konig’s snowy streets in search of better gear and answers. Villagers offer only vague rumors of strange shadows and the Duergar’s dangerous obsession with Chardalyn. At the stable, he finds a sled and considers buying dogs, but his funds fall short. Uptharr, smiling broadly, steps in to help: “Aye, lad…Think of it as an investment—for the good of the Howlbears.” Grateful for the support, Orin returns to the inn that evening with new supplies and a determined glint in his eye.

That night, as the fire crackles low, Orin sets down his cup of steaming cider and addresses the group: “Thank you,” he says, glancing around. “For saving me when you didn’t have to. The Duergar’s use of Chardalyn is dangerous, and I’d like to stand with you against it. If you’ll have me, I’ll prove I’m worth trusting.”

Azalie watches quietly from a corner, occasionally smirking at Mutt’s earlier antics. Fizzbum chatters about mushrooms to anyone who’ll listen until Orin speaks, then nods encouragingly. Dorf returns from outside, thoughtful and relaxed, and gives a slight nod at Orin’s words. Mutt, finishing his tasks, passes Orin a measuring look but offers no open objection.

With this understanding settled, the Howlbears gather their resolve. Tomorrow, they will depart Caer-Konig. They have rested, gained a new ally’s pledge, and prepared for the journey ahead—toward Brynströth, where dwarven wisdom might cast new light on the Duergar’s grim designs.

The Howlbears’ Chwinga Hunt

The journey up the mountain toward Brynströth begins under a gray morning sky, the Howlbears’ breath clouding the air as they press onward. The wind bites at their exposed skin, and the crunch of snow beneath their boots and sled runners becomes a familiar rhythm. Despite the cold and the weight of their mission, the group takes a detour, deciding to spend a few hours searching for the elusive Chwingas at Dannika’s request.

These mysterious elemental creatures have long been a curiosity of scholars and adventurers, and the Howlbears agree that the opportunity to learn more about them—without the threat of Duergar or fungal horrors looming—is worth the time.

Discovery and Observations

It is Mutt who first spots something unusual (Perception Natural 20). His sharp eyes catch faint, shimmering trails in the snow, glittering like stardust where sunlight filters through the gray sky. “Over there,” he whispers, pointing toward a cluster of icicles near a hollowed-out tree. The group follows his lead, and Mutt notices intricate details others might miss—the way the tiny forms dart between snowdrifts and pause occasionally, as if listening to the land itself.

Fizzbum, drawn by the faint signs Mutt noticed, examines the snow and nearby foliage (Nature 25). “Look here,” he says, crouching to point out faint patterns in the snow, where tiny feet have pressed into the frost. He explains how the Chwingas’ presence subtly nurtures the tundra, encouraging plants to thrive even in the unforgiving cold. “These little guys are like caretakers,” Fizzbum muses, his excitement bubbling over as he connects more signs of their passage.

The group moves carefully, led by Dorf, whose skillful steps ensure their presence doesn’t alarm the creatures (Stealth 21). He gestures for the others to tread lightly as they draw nearer to a cluster of frost-covered shrubs. The Chwingas, unbothered by the Howlbears’ careful approach, continue their rituals, leaving small offerings of frost-touched berries at the base of an ice-laden pine.

Watching from a short distance, Uptharr observes the Chwingas’ movements with a discerning gaze (Insight 17). “They’re not just surviving here,” he murmurs. “They’re guiding the land, almost like shepherds. Every step they take seems deliberate, like they’re balancing something we can’t see.” His reverence for the creatures grows as he watches them flit from one ritual to the next with serene purpose.

Azalie, ever the skilled tracker, picks up subtle signs of their trail that might have otherwise been missed (Survival 14). “See this?” she says, pointing to a faint trail near a hidden hollow in the snow. The displaced ice shards and small disturbances in the drifts mark areas the Chwingas frequent, leading the group to a glimmering frost-laden nook where they can observe more of the creatures’ interactions.

As the party watches, Orin recalls fragmented lore about the Chwingas, piecing together what he’s read in ancient tomes (History 13). “They’re elemental spirits, tied to the land in ways we barely understand,” he explains. “There are stories of them blessing travelers who show respect for their environment—small, subtle gifts for those who tread carefully.” His knowledge helps guide the party’s approach, ensuring their presence doesn’t disturb the delicate balance the Chwingas maintain.

Recording Their Findings

Over the course of three hours, the Howlbears gather valuable insights into the Chwingas’ nature. They observe the creatures coaxing frost-covered plants to bloom, gently smoothing jagged ice to prevent avalanches, and creating tiny frost spirals that catch the sunlight in dazzling patterns.

Their presence feels both fragile and essential, like a delicate thread holding the tundra’s harsh ecosystem together.

As they trek back to their main path toward Brynströth, the group discusses what they’ll report to Dannika in Bryn Shander. They agree to note the Chwingas’ behaviors, their apparent connection to the land, and their reluctance to interact with anything disruptive. Fizzbum and Orin suggest including detailed sketches and notes on how to recognize signs of their activity, while Mutt adds an account of their shimmering trails and elusive movements.

Quest Updated

With no hostiles encountered and the Chwingas safely observed, the Howlbears feel a sense of accomplishment as they return to their journey. The knowledge they’ve gained is more than just a scholarly curiosity—it’s a reminder of the tundra’s resilience and the delicate balance that must be protected.

Return to Brynströth

The Howlbears ascend the final stretch of the mountain path, the imposing gates of Brynströth coming into view. Set into the rugged face of Kelvin’s Cairn, the grand, ironbound doors stand flanked by sturdy stone towers.

Dwarven runes glow faintly in the frosty air, casting an amber light onto the snow. Smoke rises in thin tendrils from chimneys hidden in the mountainside, promising warmth and hearty welcomes.

Two dwarves stand guard at the gate, their stout forms clad in heavy armor adorned with the sigil of Brynströth. Their beards glisten with frost, but their sharp eyes immediately recognize the approaching party. One nudges the other with a gauntleted elbow, pointing toward the Howlbears.

“Look sharp, it’s them,” one murmurs, a grin forming beneath his thick, frost-bitten mustache.

As the Howlbears approach, Uptharr steps forward, his flail resting across his back, helm held under one arm. His voice booms with warmth and pride.

“Hail, guardians of Brynströth! The Howlbears return victorious from our travels through the frozen wilds. We've battled Duergar, uncovered their dark schemes, and brought news worth the ears of your kin. We seek entry to your grand halls, as allies and defenders of these lands!”

The lead dwarf guard squints, then lets out a hearty laugh. “By Moradin’s hammer, if it ain’t the Howlbears! I’d know that big voice anywhere, Welcome back to Brynströth!”

The second guard steps closer, giving the party an approving nod. “Aye, the folk of Brynströth’ll be glad to hear what ye’ve been up to. Come on in, then, and get yerselves warmed up. Yer stories’ll be better told over a pint or three.”

The gates creak and groan as they swing open, revealing the tunnels into the Dwarven settlement. The sound of hammers striking anvils, cheerful laughter, and the clatter of mugs in taverns spills out into the cold air. Warm light from countless braziers and hearths reflects off intricately carved stonework, inviting the weary travelers inside.

As the Howlbears step through the gates, the guards pat them on the shoulders and offer knowing smiles. “Go on, now,” the lead dwarf adds. “The halls of Brynstroth’ve missed yer lot. And no doubt the clan’ll be eager to hear about yer Duergar troubles. Sounds like a tale worth sharing.”

With that, the Howlbears stride into the Great Hall. The promise of a hearty meal, roaring fires, and curious listeners awaits within the mountain’s heart.

Return to the Great Hall

The Howlbears step into the Great Hall of Brynströth, greeted by the bustling warmth of the dwarven stronghold. Massive stone columns adorned with intricate carvings rise to meet a vaulted ceiling, where enchanted crystals cast a soft golden glow. Long tables are laden with steaming platters of roasted meats, fresh-baked bread, and tankards of frothy ale. The air is filled with the sounds of hearty laughter, the clatter of mugs, and the occasional hum of distant forges.

As the party enters, heads turn, and murmurs ripple through the crowd. Familiar faces from their last visit light up with recognition. From near the central hearth, a stocky dwarf with a long, meticulously braided silver beard strides forward, his eyes gleaming with delight. It is Thrain Ironbraid, the steward of the Great Hall.

“Ah, if it isn’t the Howlbears!” Thrain’s voice booms, cutting through the din. “Back from the frozen wilds, and in one piece no less! Moradin bless ye all, it’s good to see yer faces again.”

He approaches with arms wide, his hearty demeanor drawing a few chuckles from the nearest tables. “Come in, come in! Ye’ve the look of travelers who’ve faced far too much cold and far too few warm meals. The Great Hall welcomes ye as friends.”

Thrain clasps Uptharr by the shoulder, then nods warmly to each member of the party. “We’ve kept yer seats by the hearth. Get yerselves settled—food and drink’ll be along shortly.”

News from Thrain

Once the Howlbears are seated, mugs of ale and plates of steaming stew placed before them, Thrain sits nearby, his jovial expression giving way to a more somber tone. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice so only the party can hear.

“I wish I could say all was well in Brynströth,” he begins, stroking his silver beard. “But trouble’s been brewin’ in the mines. Miners’ve been whisperin’ about strange tremors deep below, and worse—teams’ve gone missin’. A couple nights ago, Hruna Ironforge herself led a diggin’ crew into the lower shafts, seekin’ out a new vein of ore. They’ve not returned.”

The dwarves nearby pause their eating and drinking, glancing toward the group. Thrain’s voice drops further, barely above a murmur. “We sent scouts after her team, but they came back empty-handed—shaken, too. They spoke of collapsed tunnels and eerie sounds in the dark. Whatever’s happenin’ down there, it’s troubling, to say the least.”

He lets the words hang in the air for a moment before straightening in his seat and resuming his typical hearty tone. “But enough of that grim talk for now. Ye’ve traveled far and earned a bit o’ Brynströth’s finest hospitality. Rest easy while ye’re here, eat yer fill, and enjoy the warmth of the Hall.”

Thrain raises his tankard with a grin, the somber mood lifting slightly. “To the Howlbears! Heroes of the tundra and friends to Brynströth!”

Around the hall, dwarves join the toast, mugs raised high, their cheers ringing out like the toll of a great bell. The Howlbears are left to enjoy the hearty food, warm company, and the comforts of Brynströth, though the mysteries of the mines and Hruna’s fate linger in the back of their minds.

The Howlbears’ Next Steps in Brynströth

As the Howlbears settle into the warmth of the Great Hall, they feel the weight of their journey beginning to lift. For the first time in days, the dangers of the tundra seem distant, replaced by the inviting comfort of Brynströth’s bustling hearths and camaraderie. Yet, amidst the glow of firelight and the hum of dwarven song, the lingering threads of unfinished business tug at their thoughts.

Thrain Ironbraid’s words about the troubles in the mines and Hruna’s disappearance hang heavily in the air, presenting one possible path. However, the city itself offers plenty of opportunities for exploration, rest, and discovery.

Options for the Party

The Howlbears have several paths they can take during their time in Brynströth:

1. Investigate the City

• Brynströth is vast and full of dwarven culture, secrets, and intrigue. The Howlbears can explore the bustling forges, visit the marketplace for rare goods, or speak with locals to learn more about the city’s history and current events.

• Potential leads:

  • Uncover more details about the tremors and rumors of danger in the mines.

  • Seek out dwarven scholars, craftsmen, or merchants for useful information, tools, or lore.

2. Follow Up on Hruna’s Disappearance

• If the Howlbears choose to delve deeper into the mystery of the missing mining team, they could speak with Thrain or other key dwarves for more information about the mines and Hruna’s mission.

• They may visit the miners’ guild or inspect the equipment and maps used by Hruna’s team.

• This path could lead to an expedition into the mines, but the party can gather information first without committing.

3. Partake in Downtime Activities

• Brynströth offers ample opportunities for rest, recovery, and crafting:

  • Visit the forges to customize or repair gear.

  • Spend time honing skills, crafting items, or pursuing personal projects.

  • Engage in sparring matches or competitions with the dwarves to build camaraderie or earn rewards.

  • Seek out tavern games and revelry to lift spirits.

Questions for the Party

The Howlbears will need to decide how they wish to spend their time in Brynströth. Key considerations include:

• How many days do you plan to stay in the city?

• What are your priorities—rest, exploration, or action?

• If investigating Hruna’s disappearance, how much time do you want to devote to gathering information before potentially heading into the mines?

Thrain has ensured the party has free rein in Brynströth, and the city is open to their exploration. For now, the Howlbears can enjoy the hospitality and plan their next steps in the safety of the dwarven stronghold.

Stars Awarded

7 hours s have passed

Current Time: 3:10 PM

Date: Seventhhday , 27 , Alturiak , 1742

Temperature: 65°

Current Phase: Exploration

Preparing to Find Hruna

The Howlbears’ Preparations

The warmth and comfort of the Great Hall provide a much-needed reprieve as the Howlbears settle in for a long rest. Though the events of the day weigh heavily on their minds, they take time to regroup, gathering resources, knowledge, and resolve before delving into the depths of the mines.

Rest and Recovery

The group spreads out through Brynstroth to prepare for their next steps. Each member finds a moment of quiet reflection during their rest, knowing the dangers that lie ahead. By the time they wake, the fires in the Great Hall have burned low, and the soft glow of the enchanted crystals casts long shadows against the stone walls.

Learning about Deepfrost Hollow

Orin, true to his scholarly nature, spends much of the evening pouring over maps and speaking with miners and scholars. The maps show the labyrinthine layout of the mines, with marked tunnels indicating recent collapses and tremors. Hruna’s team was last seen in a restricted section of the lower shafts known as Deepfrost Hollow, an area plagued by unstable terrain and rumored to house ancient, abandoned workings. Orin learns that the area’s instability coincided with strange, rhythmic tremors—something unnatural deep beneath the rock.

Thrain Ironbraid offers further insight as Orin shares his findings. “Aye, Deepfrost Hollow’s been trouble for years,” he says grimly. “Collapsed tunnels, strange sounds… but we never had folk go missin’ like this before. Whatever’s down there, it’s beyond the miners’ reckonin’. I hope yer wits are sharp.”

Mutt, meanwhile, uses his silver tongue and natural charm to locate a high-end jeweler. His search leads him to Gemfire’s Vault, a cozy, well-appointed trading post tucked near the forges. The proprietor, Korrin Gemfire, is a stocky dwarf with a meticulous eye for quality. After some negotiation, Mutt manages to purchase a handful of high-quality gemstones—precisely what he was looking for.

“Yer a smooth talker, elf,” Korrin says with a grin. “If ye ever need somethin’ rare, ye know where to find me.”

Dorf, while attempting to distract himself from his worry for Hruna, tries his hand at picking the lock on a rusty trunk he found while fishing. Despite his best efforts, the ancient lock resists him, and with a frustrated sigh, he sets it aside for another time. “Guess I’ll have better luck with somethin’ else,” he mutters, shaking his head.

Fizzbum spends his evening restocking his supplies, checking over his gear, and ensuring he has the tools needed for an expedition into the depths. His cheerful chatter with the locals lifts the spirits of those around him, even as he makes sure to secure a few extra grappling hooks and other necessities for their journey.

Azalie sharpens her weapons and prepares her gear, ensuring everything is in pristine condition for the mission ahead. She uses her downtime to listen carefully to the stories shared in the Great Hall, gleaning snippets of information about the dangers lurking in Deepfrost Hollow. Her keen instincts and quiet resolve set her apart as a steadying force within the group.

Thrain’s Permission and Guides

After their rest, Thrain Ironbraid meets the party near the entrance to the mines. His expression is serious as he hands over a weathered map, marked with Hruna’s last known location. “Ye’ve done us a kindness already by takin’ this on,” he says, his tone heavy with gratitude. “But let me be clear—Deepfrost Hollow’s not a place for the faint of heart. We’ll spare two of our best guides to go with ye, but what ye’ll face down there, none can say.”

The two guides step forward: Gorrik Stonevein, a gruff, seasoned miner with scars tracing the lines of his weathered face, and Kelda Emberhelm, a sharp-eyed scout with a crossbow slung across her back. Both nod solemnly as Thrain introduces them.

“Gorrik and Kelda know these tunnels like their own beards, ” Thrain continues. “They’ll get ye where ye need to go—and if the worst happens, they’ll help bring ye back. But be warned: Deepfrost Hollow’s a restricted zone for a reason. Yer walkin’ into peril, plain and simple. Not even Gorrik and Kelda have been to all the deep places in the Carin. ”

The Quest: Find Hruna

As the party sets out, the dwarves of Brynstroth watch them with quiet reverence, some offering murmured blessings and others simply nodding in respect. Thrain clasps each of them by the shoulder as they pass.

“May Moradin guide ye, Howlbears,” he says, his voice steady. “And bring Hruna back to us.”

The gates to the mines loom ahead, the stone corridors stretching into shadowed depths. With Gorrik and Kelda leading the way, the Howlbears descend, the weight of the mountain pressing in around them. The quest to find Hruna has begun, and the echoes of their steps fade into the depths of the unknown.

Long Rest Complete

Actions allowed:

You are leaving the City, take care of any last minute business before the next post as the area will change.

You may also post any retro conversations you want to have with any of the characters you interacted with to ask follow up questions.

Gorikk and Kelda have a crude map of Deepfrost Hallow (what has been mapped). This will be posted in the next scene.

If you have no additional business or posts to make, please let me know in the chat app, and I'll get the next scene posted faster.

Bring Hunger and Encumbrance into compliance.

10 hours s have passed

Current Time: 1:10 AM

Date: Eighthday , 28 , Alturiak , 1742

Temperature: 45°

Current Phase: Exploration

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