0 - High Road

Session Zero - The High Road
Early Spring, 1491 DR
You were hired for simple work: escort a supply wagon to Phandalin, meet Gundren Rockseeker, and get paid.

But Gundren and his friend, Sildar Hallwinter, rode ahead yesterday with unusual urgency. Gundren practically vibrated with excitement—talking around some secret he wasn’t ready to share. Something about an "incredible discovery," that would change everything for the Rockseeker brothers.

High road, Sword Coast, Faerûn
Evening, the 20th of Ches
While Gundren and Sildar spurred their horses south with urgency bordering on recklessness, you took the sensible path. Contracts are worth nothing if you’re dead before collecting.

You spent the extra day in Neverwinter preparing properly —buying provisions that wouldn’t spoil, checking straps and axles, replacing frayed rope, and loading the wagon so the weight sat right on the wheels. Armor was oiled, blades honed, spell components counted and recounted. The kind of careful preparation that rarely makes for good stories—but keeps you alive long enough to tell them.

You weren’t alone when you finally set out. Another merchant was bound south as well, his destination the growing settlement of Leilon rather than Phandalin. Close enough, at least for a time. He hired two guards — a broad-shouldered warrior who walked beside the cart with practiced vigilance, and a quiet hunter who ranged ahead and behind, eyes always moving, never lingering in one place too long.

Together, your small caravan passed through Neverwinter’s southern gate and onto the High Road.

The road here is wide and well-worn, packed earth bordered by grass and low scrub. To the west, the Sea of Swords glints dully under an overcast sky, the salt wind ever-present even when the water itself is out of sight. To the east, rolling hills rise toward darker country—wooded stretches and broken ground where the road’s protection thins with every mile.

Traffic is light. A few northbound wagons. A pair of riders who pass without slowing. Gulls circle overhead, their cries fading as the day wears on. By evening, the sounds of the city are long gone, replaced by wind, insects, and the creak of leather and wood.

As the sun dips low, you make camp just off the road—close enough for convenience, far enough to avoid advertising yourselves to every passerby. A small fire is lit and carefully banked. The wagon is checked once more. Watches are discussed. The merchant and his guards keep to their side of the camp, polite but reserved.

This is the first night of the journey and nothing has gone wrong... Yet!

Nelly is a tiefling, a young woman with the blood of fiends running through her blood. But she has a noble heart. She was the one who spoke up when farmer's sheep blocked the road, and the driver was yelling at the farmer. There have been other instances where she stood up for the underdog.
Right now, she is lying by the fire, resting while tinkering with a pair of manicals. Playing with the lock, opening and closing them.

An hour later, the fire has burned down to a low, steady glow when a sharp yelp—high and panicked—comes from the scrub just beyond your wagon’s lantern light. There’s a brief scuffle, the rustle of grass, then a rough laugh.

One of the merchant’s guards—the broad-shouldered one who walks beside the cart during the day—steps into view. He has his boot planted firmly on the hind leg of a young fox, pinning it to the ground. The animal twists and snaps weakly, its ribs heaving, one forepaw caught in a crude wire snare that’s biting deep into the fur and flesh.

"Damned thing almost took my rations," the guard says, giving the fox a hard shake for emphasis. "Clever little bastard. Thought I’d teach it not to get too close to honest folk."

The fox whines, a thin, desperate sound, eyes wide and reflecting the firelight. The ranger—his companion—stands a short distance away, arms folded. He doesn’t intervene, but his expression tightens, jaw set as he watches.

Alex looks over the tableau with some concern. The guard's sadism was written all over his face. What a detestable example of humanity, Alex thinks to himself. If only his older and wiser companion, got to the poor animal first. Confronting this jerk directly would only feed his guilt into rage. Let's try charm, at first.

Alex carefully stands up, and with a smile on his face addresses the guard holding the unfortunate fox. Getting into your rations, you say? Certainly a cause for consternation, my good sir, especially for one as strong and burly as yourself. Why, without those rations, how would you have the strength and endurance to continue so admirably in your craft? Protecting yourself and your companions from the cruel dangers of the unknown! I sincerely hope that butters him up but good, Alex thinks.

Continuing, Alex says foxes are crafty, wily, and cunning, indeed. The fact this this one appears weak, tired, malnourished, and wounded is no excuse! We must think of a punishment to fit the attempted crime. Alex strokes his chin as if in deep thought. I have it! We must exile this poor beast from our camp, never to return. Merely letting it loose without repast or repair would not teach it the necessary lessons! It must be taken by one who is wise in the ways of nature, confused as to its location, and then let loose with the sternest of warnings. For even the beasts understand the emotions of sentients, do they not? I see your older, and less puissant, companion to be one wise in the lore of the forests and the wild. We should prevail upon him to be the instrument of noble justice! 'tis certainly beneath your concern, my good man! Good man my @ss, that cretin would snap the foxes leg just to see it in pain.

While we await the meting of justice by his hand, perhaps I can entertain you with a tune or a ballad?

Nelly supports Alexander's statement. If your rations was left unsecured, then its not the foxes fault. Let it go, or be know as Critter-slayer.
Now, with the threat of ridicule for the rest of their journey, it should be an easy choice to let the fox go.

The guard squints at Alex as the words keep coming.

At first, his grin holds—crooked, self-satisfied—but it starts to falter somewhere around "strength and endurance". By the time Alex is stroking his chin and proposing exile as punishment, the guard’s brow furrows deeply, as if trying to wrestle the meaning of the speech to the ground and losing.

"Uh…" he says, shifting his weight. The fox yelps again as his boot presses down without thought. "What?"

He looks from Alex to Nelly, then back again. Nelly’s voice cuts through the moment and that one lands more clearly. His jaw tightens at Critter-slayer.

Igrem looks at the exchange, not willing to intervene for now. He definitely supports Alexander and Nelly's take on the issue, though.

The guard eyes narrow as the rest of Alex’s words finally settle into place. The smile is gone now, replaced by a hard, simmering glare. He looks at Alex again—not confused this time, but measuring. Then at Nelly and Igrem.

"…You think I don’t notice it?" he growls. "All that fancy talk. Songs and noble justice. You think I’m some fool you can dance around?"

His boot presses down harder. The fox lets out a piercing cry, legs kicking weakly as the wire snare bites deeper. The guard bends slightly, reaching for a dagger at his belt, thumb brushing the worn leather of the sheath.

"You want to make me look like an idiot?"

The ranger shifts now—not stepping in, but clearly tense, eyes flicking to the guard's dagger, then to the rest of you.

The guard draws the blade, steel catching the firelight as he lifts it, angling it toward the fox’s neck.

"No beast is worth that."

The fox thrashes once, then freezes, eyes wide and glassy, like it knows its about to die.

Alex freezes. OK, charm didn't work. Split second, would ridicule be better or would challenging the guard to a contest for the life of the fox be better? My backup juggling dagger has shiny enough glass on it that it may look more expensive than it is, could I tempt him with that? Or will switching from charm to insulting be more likely to shift the guards focus from the fox to me, and allow that ranger to swoop in?