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, I was probably the least thrilled of the bunch. Cold winter winds and deep snowdrifts were hardly appealing to me, but even as we delayed the awful winter seemed to egg us on, the wind blowing wickedly and it becoming increasingly clear that we had to seek refuge in warmer climates.
This is where the Dragonborn and many of the townsfolk held information unknown to the rest of us. 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 of the north.
Founded on the gurgling shores of the great volcano that loomed in the distance, the many hot springs that fall within the city's walls serve to keep it warm and livable in even the harshest of winters. Normally a journey from Phandalin to Neverwinter this late in the season would be impossible. It was at least two days 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 for the region.
The only thing that made the trip possible was an alternate route that the Dragonborn now outlined to the gathered crowd. According to he and some of the more traveled villagers, the Neverwinter Wood, as its name implies, stayed relatively temperate compared to the surrounding regions. 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, my compatriots and I 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. We would be just as dead as if we had taken the main road in such circumstances. As it turns out though, the gravity of these odds was not lost on Nizèl.
The scaly cleric could see the apprehension on our faces and offered a measure of relief to us by offering his presence as a companion for the journey. Tempers had cooled somewhat by this point, so the offer was perhaps not as unwelcome as it would have been a few minutes before. We would need a guide after all, and I suppose that he thought volunteering for the effort would dispel any doubts we had about his trustworthiness.
I have to say, the offer came as a surprise to myself and my companions, and for the first time, we 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, we would set out for the wood at first light.
We did indeed set out as soon as the sun had risen and we set a feverish pace, knowing that anytime 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 our party’s tracker and wilderness guide when such skills became necessary, and it was at about midday that she noticed something unsettling. We came across a string of footprints, fresh in the snow, and at first, we thought there was some other group traipsing about out here, but that assessment was turned dishearteningly aside as Nizèl place his bare tri-clawed foot into an identical impression in the snow a few yards further up. We had been going in circles for the better part of the day, and after closer inspection, it would seem that we 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 he could tell, the same evil presence he could sense back in the town, and now he consider himself the fool for not noticing it earlier.
Taking no time to dwell on it though, 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 around furiously for a moment before settling in a direction somewhat to the left of the path that 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 along 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 troupe 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. Nevertheless, 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 wolfs slowly closed the circle.
It would be a desperate clash, that much was certain, and I tightened the grip on my long glassy staff as the first beast rushed in. It would be a long night indeed.
