As the morning sun crested over the horizon to the east, a shadowy figure ran noiselessly through the underbrush of the forest floor. The movement was too quick to follow with the naked eye, but the more observant would have caught fleeting glimpses of a great feline form, smaller than some of its larger cousins, but built for speed and stealth.
The cat neared the outskirts of the forest, and the thick vegetation slowly began to give way to sparser brush-like jumbles of brier and thorn. The scene resembled something of a bulwark of nature with the desperate flora of the region seeming to weave together to create Great Wall-like barriers barbed with thorns.
As the feline figure bounded toward the thick tangle of brush it seemed to part before her, making way as she dashed through.
A short time later the cat came to a sparse clearing surrounded on all sides by the desperate remains of a forest laid bare by the onset of winter, its branches hanging low with the weight of heavy snow and hardly a green leaf to be seen.
It was then that the cat gradually, but fluidly shifted shape and assumed the visage of a young woodland elf with the trappings of nature hanging all about her. Her name was Thia Xiloscient, she was one of the keepers of the forest, and it pained her to see her home in such disarray. She walked to the middle of the clearing and took a long look about her. This place was usually far beyond the reach of the winter storms. This Region, protected by the magical patronage of Silvanus, the Oak Father, was usually temperate year around with only a slight buffer zone at its edges to allow for the winter of the northern reaches of Ferune to break upon its borders like waves upon a rocky shore.
The clearing that Thia now stood in, however, was a full five miles from that buffer zone, and her fears were confirmed now that she saw the desperate state it was in. It was good that the denizens of the forest had sought to erect a sound and sturdy barrier farther to the north, and Thia smiled to herself as she thought that her labors these past tenday had not been in vain. The forest would survive this winter if not without some loss, and it would recover come the spring.
As the young elf glanced about her surroundings one last time, preparing to make her departure back to the forest's interior, the sudden snapping of twigs brought her attention back to the grove. She snapped to alert with her long oaken staff brought to bear across her chest in the direction of the noise, but her posture relaxed when she saw a familiar face coming through the brush at the far end of the clearing. The wispy female form of a hamadryad of the forest approached with the smooth and steady stride of a being wholly attuned to the nature that surrounded it.
This hamadryad was called Lyra, she knew, and the creature cast a regal form as she approached. The elf mussed to herself that the hamadryads were not unlike royalty, with the forests serving as their dutchies, and fiefdoms.
Lyra bad her to follow with a somewhat urgent candor. Thia gritted her teeth in anticipation of what had prompted such a powerful being to seek her assistance. Not many things would prove beyond the capabilities of a hamadryad, but something had clearly unsettled this creature and now the elf was compelled to follow.
Together the two walked onward to the outskirts of the forest, bound for whatever disturbance awaited them.
The wind blew through the outer branches of the trees at the edge of the great sweeping plain, and the battered limbs of the forest swayed and groaned in protest. The scene was desolate but defiant, with the battered trees cutting a clear line across the horizon and holding firm in the face of the icy plain before them.
It was across this line that two solitary figures limped pitifully into the throws of the forest and trudged onward, apparently unrelieved by the still frigid conditions that accompanied their change in scenery.
The two figures were nonother than Carric and Stan of the party of adventurers that had set out from Phandalin the previous day, and as the two of them each leaned against trees for support, they each nervously glanced backward to regard their other two companions, Nizèl and Morrah.
The two were nowhere in sight and Stan and Carric paused for a moment considering their next course of action.
Sitting in the shadows with her companion some yards away was Thia, scrutinizing the two lumbering adventurers, trying to discern whether or not they were a threat. Uncertain for the time being she motioned for her companion to hold back and the hamadryad pulsed with frustrated energy, clearly not impressed by the sight of the two.
After some time Carric and Stan, dissuaded by the continually frigid chill in the air, forced themselves to continue into the forest beyond. No doubt they were hoping to find some sort of shelter from the storm. As they trudged onward Thia and Lyra followed them, slipping in and out of the shadows as if they were part of the very forest that they passed through.
Meanwhile, many miles out from the edge of the forest, the other two members of the party were huddled inside a narrow hollow all but buried in a thick snowdrift. Morrah had managed to find the meager shelter in the desperation that followed the encounter with the winter wolves the previous night. They had been separated from the others and had needed to find somewhere for the injured Dragonborn, Nizèl, to hold up and recover from his wounds.
The lizardman had taken the brunt of the attack the previous day with the wolfs apparently focused on the strange instruments he carried. In the ensuing battle, Nizèl had managed to hold onto one of the metal rods he carried, though at the cost of a deep gash on his right arm. Though the party was able to continue onward for most of the night under his guidance, by early morning his wounds had gotten the better of him and the party was separated in the thick blizzard.
Morrah had found this refuge for the two of them shortly after and they had been sheltering there ever since. The two huddled around a small depression in the middle of the den and warmed their hands from the fiery breath of Nizèl, one of the many benefits bestowed by his draconic ancestry.
The normally impetuous woman could hardly believe that an acquaintance she had considered an unforgivable wretch only a couple of days ago was now someone whom she was willing to risk her life. Needless to say, the events of the previous day had humbled her, and she was impressed with Nizèl in spite of herself. He had shouldered burdens that surely would have broken most mortals and all of his own volition.
Nizèl looked over to her then and the two shared a weak smile and both forced themselves to relax for a few hours before setting out again in the heat of the day.
If Carric and Stan had clearly announced themselves as they passed into the forest earlier in the day, the other two passed by with barely a whisper. They had to take care not to be noticed, as they could hardly afford another conflict with Nizèl still in a somewhat precarious state.
Even so, they would have been hard-pressed to escape the notice of the gaze that was set upon them, and even as they passed by the outer edge of the Neverwinter Wood, great and terrible eyes noted their passing and followed their course to its conclusion.
The particularly harsh and early winter had not only affected the areas around Neverwinter, but it had also taken its toll and the entire northern region of Ferune with deep snows blanketing the dwarven cities of the north and frigid conditions penetrating as far south as Silverymoon, far to the South of the Spine of the World and typically temperate year-round.
The region of Triboar faired no better and it was there, along the famed and dangerous Triboar Trail that a lone figure braved the blizzard conditions of the open wilderness and took their first step off of the well-worn trail with a single-minded purpose. Their name was Rory and they could be as fierce as a winter gale when spurned and as gentle as a summer breeze when their sole daughter and life’s joy was concerned. In this particular circumstance, they were as fierce as such a spurning might suggest at the circumstances of their very daughter. She had been kidnapped by a group of bandits that had raided their village several days ago, and Rory was hell-bent on finding and punishing those responsible, and, admittedly more than a little worried about the fate of their daughter.
With I quick shake of a great horned and furry head, Rory was a Firbolg after all, they brushed off the disheartening thoughts and continued to follow the fresh footprints in the snow ahead of them. The trail was getting warmer, metaphorically speaking, and Rory could tell that the bandits were close.
With a determined expression, they took a long stride after the closest set of prints and took their first step into the huge and imposing forest that stretched out before them.
They would find their daughter, whatever the cost.
Thia and Lyra, both aware of the goings on of the forest beyond, were the first to sense the presence of the lone wanderer heading on an intersecting course to the two bumbling fools they were trailing. By this point, they had decerned that the two were hardly a threat, but they could not be certain of the intentions of the third.
Not willing to risk opening blows with an unknown enemy, and aware that the now more densely vegetated surroundings would offer the cover for an ambush, the two shifted ahead and to the opposite side of the wayward adventurers and resigned to let the apparent meeting play out before they showed themselves.
Not more than a minute later that meeting would come to pass, with neither party recognizing the approach of the other until they were practically on top of each other. The lone figure that came out of the brush let out a guttural howl that sounded like a cross between a bear and some kind of cow, and the great horned head dipped low and charged the two unsuspecting companions.
Stan, though his true worth as a swordsman could not be guested through the wall of bluff that was his personality, was at least skilled enough to get his blade up in time to deflect the opening blow from the new opponent. A firbolg with the ornate trappings of a verdant green forest stood before him, a long two-handed sword resting comfortably in their hands. The firbolg rushed forward again yelling something about their lost daughter or some such thing.
The symbolism of the figure clad in green so vehemently opposed to the two intruders was all the proof that the hamadryad needed to join the fray, and she rushed in from the opposite side of the small clearing to the utter bewilderment of Carric, and the two exchanged blows from a distance with a couple of probing spells.
Thia was less eager to wade into the fray, having a less than convinced assessment of the situation, and she noted well the like expression of bewilderment on Rory's face as they regarded their new hamadryad ally.
Seeing the hesitation on his opponent's face, Stan didn't pause to ponder, he simply pressed forward and counterattacked the apparently distracted firbolg. This confused things even more and it wasn't until several more moments and many more exchanged spells and sword blows that Thia was finally able to interrupt the fight with an evocation of her own.
She commanded the foolish human warrior to cease under the weight of an arcane enchantment and was able to play on the firbolg's earlier hesitation to calm them into breaking off the exchange. By this point, Lyra had the wizard restrained so no intervention was necessary there, but she quietly scolded her woodland companion for acting so rashly. Finally, after the situation was apparently under control Thia regarded them all evenly.
"I know not what brought such an unlikely gathering together by such incredible chance, but I assure you that none of us need be enemies." She then went on to explain that she and Lyra had been tracking the two adventurers before the encounter and assured Rory that they had nothing to do with the bandits that held their daughter.
Carric and Stan blanched at the revelation that they had been trailed since entering the forest, and while Stan sulked in response, his pride clearly wounded, Carric talked on with Thia and the others, slowly offering more information about their situation as it became clear that these were not enemies that he faced.
Rory showed particular concern at the mention of their lost companions in the blizzard and after many minutes of intent listening they interjected and insisted that they would go out to find those that were lost. Carric seemed a bit ashamed at this, as he had been unable to prevent the party's separation in the first place, but offered his gratitude non the less.
After some more debating, and clearly recognizing that Carric and Stan were far too exhausted to take part in a rescue mission, it was decided that Thia and Rory would go while Lyra would, begrudgingly, watch over the other two.
Their search would not be long, however, as soon after the two had departed Thia caught wind of two entities passing the threshold of the forest's edge and she and Rory went out to meet them. That encounter was no less tense than the first, but Thia was careful to approach openly this time, and after Morrah had gotten past initial defensiveness, she conceded, and the pair heard out their unlikely company and agreed to follow them back to the others.
And so the first alliance was forged, not of common purpose, but of common necessity, for no sooner had we regrouped than a wicked gale cut through the trees and the bitter cold followed after it. Our pursuer would not give up so easily it would seem, and it was clear that we had been brought together for a purpose. That purpose would be revealed to me in time, but I believed then and so do now that the meeting on that winter's night was a fated occurrence. There were forces at work that sought to prevent it from happening, and other forces still facilitated our course. These invisible players would raise obstacles in our path and contrarily offer boons so that we might succeed. Yes, it appeared as though we were at the center of some grand drama, and we were but players to our more powerful patrons.
