Chapter 2: The Gamble

1732 0 0

Nizèl’s plan was quite simple, but the simplicity did little to steady the feelings of those who had to carry it out. Among the band that would need to make the journey, Carric was probably the least thrilled of the bunch. Cold winter winds and deep snowdrifts were hardly appealing to anyone, but least of all a learned wizard more accustomed to the shelter of a warmly kept study. Stan didn't seem to care much either way, glad to get out of the stuffy backwater of a town, and Morrah was too focussed on prodding at her new would-be rival, that she seemed entirely unbothered by the prospect.

Even as they delayed the awful winter seemed to egg them on, the wind blowing wickedly and it becoming increasingly clear that they had to seek refuge in warmer climates.

This is where the Dragonborn and many of the townsfolk held information unknown to the rest. While one could be forgiven for assuming that all the reaches of the north were one continuous frozen wasteland, there was one notable exception along the Sword Coast. The Neverwinter Wood was a huge expanse of forest that ran from east to west across the northern plains of the coast, all the way to the outskirts of Neverwinter, the great trade hub that shares the name of the nearby forest.

Founded on the gurgling fissures of the great volcano that loomed to the Northeast, Neverwinter City's many hot springs serve to keep it warm and livable in even the harshest of winters. Normally a journey from Phandalin to Neverwinter in these conditions would be impossible. It was at least two days of travel even by horse, and the frigid conditions of a normal winter would be enough to dissuade most that attempted the route. Never mind the chances that an inexperienced group would face in this particular winter, by all accounts the worst in living memory.

The only thing that made the trip possible was an alternate route that the Dragonborn now outlined to the gathered crowd. According to him and some of the more traveled villagers, the Neverwinter Wood, as its name implies, stays relatively temperate compared to the surrounding areas. One of the older villagers even offered up that it was the city that gained its name from the forest and not the other way around.

Even so, the compatriots were skeptical at best. The forest would still prove a full day's travel from the town, and there would be no turning back if the rumors about the forest turned out to be false. They would be just as dead as if they had taken the main road in such circumstances. The gravity of these odds was not lost on Nizèl.

The scaly cleric could see the apprehension on their faces and provided a measure of relief by offering the unexpected. He would accompany them as a companion on their journey. Tempers had cooled somewhat by this point, so the offer was perhaps not as unwelcome as it would have been a few minutes prior. They would need a guide after all, and he seemingly thought that volunteering for the effort would dispel any doubts about his trustworthiness.

The offer came as a surprise to the companions, and for the first time, they all saw the lizard man in a different light. Even Morrah seemed to warm up a bit at the suggestion, though if you hadn’t been looking for it you never would have noticed the subtle notion. It was decided, they would set out for the wood at first light.

They did indeed set out as soon as the sun had risen and set a feverish pace, knowing that any time wasted during the daylight hours would prove exponentially more miserable at night.

The going was smooth at first, even pleasant at times when a warm ray of sunlight managed to break through the gloom. But that reprieve would prove to be short-lived.

It was Morrah who realized something was amiss. She was the party’s tracker and wilderness guide when such skills became necessary, and it was at about midday that she noticed something unsettling. They came across a string of footprints, fresh in the snow. At first, they thought there was some other group traipsing about, but that assessment was turned aside as Nizèl placed his bare tri-clawed foot into an identical impression in the snow a few yards further up. They had been going in circles for the better part of the day, and after closer inspection, it seemed they were no more than a quarter of the way to the forest’s edge.

It was devastating, to say the least, and none were more distraught than Morrah who had apparently made such a glaring mistake. Nizèl was quick to console her though, after taking a few moments to observe their situation. There was some other force at work here he could tell, the same evil presence he could sense back in the town, and now he considered himself the fool for not noticing it earlier.

Taking no time to dwell on it, the resolute Dragonborn pulled out a set of long metal rods bent to an angle and took a few moments to divine the forest’s location with the instruments. They whipped and swiveled furiously for a moment before settling in a direction somewhat to the left of the path they had forged earlier in the day.

Not wanting to chance another mishap, the Dragonborn continued forward with both rods held aloft before him, subtly correcting their course as the party trudged onward for the rest of the daylight hours.

Though slow, the party’s progress was steady, and it wasn’t until nightfall that the next problem would arise. An hour or so into twilight, Stan, the rear guard of the group noticed something was off. Useless in any situation requiring finesse or charm, the cocky young fighter was at least a half-decent lookout, and situations like these served to draw out his more dependable side. That is to say, he had enough presence of mind to realize that the group was vulnerable in their current position.

He was uncomfortable relying on his less-than-keen mortal eyes to seek out danger after dark and asked the group if any others wished to take over his position, mentioning too that he had an uneasy feeling about the wind-whipped plain behind.

Morrah, quick to redeem herself after her bungled scouting job, took up the position at the rear. It was lucky timing too because just as the two passed each other, the first impressions of figures in the distance became visible far behind the party. The group hastily broke off their march to meet the rapidly approaching threat.

Before long a ferocious band of wolves bounded out of the encroaching darkness with coats as white as the snow about them. Within moments the party was completely surrounded, and the wolves slowly closed the circle.

It would be a desperate clash, that much was certain, and a long night indeed.