Ralof taps out his pipe and settles down, his eyes raised in the recollection of the tale.
“It started last winter. The trio was resting in the town of Phandalin, which gets cut off from its outer villages by the snows blocking up the passes. I heard tell they spent the time helping train a new cadre of guards. Some business of a white dragon they had slain after it attacked the town. By all accounts, their actions saved the entire outpost.”
“I heard of this, so they are the Hero’s of Ice Spire Peak?”
“Yes indeed, and once the snows started to melt, the townsfolk asked them to accompany a messenger down to the village of Nightstone and reopen the lines of communication.”
“Nightstone, home of the massacre…”
“Yes, it was our trio who discovered the remnants of the giant’s attack; but, before that, they uncovered that the messenger was an imposter, indeed and agent of the Black Network.”
“Zhentarim!” You say, and you both reflexively spit over the side of the cart.
“The brigand escaped into the forests. Eventually, they arrived at Nightstone to see that the Giant’s destruction of the tower had enabled a local skeeve of Goblins to send their Orc and Ogre hordes to slaughter and take prisoners to their cave”.
“For slaving?” You say, cocking your head.
The man shakes his in response,
You shudder at the thought.
He continues, “As they arrive in the ruined town, a fight ensued against the orc horde, where they killed the Orc captain, destroyed the agents of the Black Network and freed the remaining trapped guards in the tower”.
“Enough adventure for anyone,” you say.