With great difficulty, our heroes defeated Nezznar, The Black Spider, deep within the Wave Echo Cave – foiling his plans to use the Forge of Spells for his own wicked scheme. They returned to Phandelin with Nundro Rockseeker, and news of their victory was met with great celebration. They rejoiced to their heart’s content, and within a few days, struck a partnership with the dwarves regarding the operation of the (once called) Lost Mine. When the dealings were done, they said their farewells and headed off on their own – however, should their paths cross again, it will be met with adventure, loot and mead!
The mine is now re-open for business and the Forge of Spells is under close study by renowned scholars from The Lords’ Alliance. As for the Adventurers, things were only just beginning.
Alfric Snowtide lead a simple life, choosing to settle down with Nilsa Dendrar in Neverwinter and live out the rest of his days as peacefully as he could. His burning desire to prove himself worthy of his Elven blood has long since cooled, yet deep inside him, an ember unknowingly remains. Despite his own ignorance, Nilsa can clearly see his thirst for adventure. During the windy Autumns, she watches him gather wood from afar, seeing signs of his combat ability every time he strikes the wood with his axe. She fears for the day he picks up his swords again, yet at the same time, she can’t help but smile cheerfully – knowing he will probably save the lives of many when he does so, much like how he had saved hers back then.
Aseir Liadon, on hiatus from his duties as a mercenary, spent his time alone – making the long trek to the village he was born in. It had lay in ruins for years due to the dragon attack, and nobody has bothered to come back ever since. With him being the only soul to have set foot in the village for so long, he visited his mother’s grave and paid his respects. He meditated among the ruined houses, recalling his inability to deliver the final blow to Venomfang. His mind focused on this point, and honed it to a razor’s edge. He was resolute in his training for the remainder of the year – preparing himself for his next encounter with a dragon. When it happens, not only will he deliver the killing blow, he will do so on his own.
Brodin Sigurd – The Destroyer of Venomfang, Queller of Evil and Wench Slayer (when it suited him) spent the early part of his new adventure travelling to new lands. Despite his eagerness for battle, he found that his current role as a petty fighter left him unfulfilled – and so, he sought a way to fill the void. One night, Bahamut came to Brodin in a dream, and spoke to him in what seemed like an ancient Draconic tongue. However, Brodin understood fully what the Dragon God had said to him: “Be my Sword and Shield in this realm. Become a beacon of my Godly benevolence and I will bestow upon you my Draconic power”. When Brodin awoke from his dream, he searched for a Church of Bahamut, and when he did, he found an order of Paladins deep within. Brodin felt a strong, inexplicable affinity towards their ways and teachings, and asked their leader, Talin, to train him in their ways. The holy warrior agreed.
Many months later, he emerged a man reborn, and made his way back Thundertree – with plans to bring the town back to it’s former glory.
Despite the grandeur amount of healing potions and spells, time was not kind to Nundro Rockseeker. In a few months, he succumbed to the wounds (both mental and physical) he received from Nezznar and died in his bed. Flint could not bear it – he had lost almost all of his kin – and for what? Gold. Which no amount could ever hope to bring them back.
What was once the Rockseeker’s ultimate goal became the bane of Flint’s existence. Barthen would often find Flint drinking himself to a stupor, or gambling away his wealth. Sometimes, he would be doing both. To fuel his gambling addiction, Flint would sometimes become a stand-in enforcer for the Ruffians when they were collecting their protection money. He regretted this as it went against every ounce of his soul but the power of his addiction was too strong for him to refuse such work.
Last but not least, J’zargo Laughing Fox was in good spirits before he parted from the others. One would think it was the mine he now partly owned, but it wasn’t. “I need to find her, and I think I know where she is.” was the last they’d heard before he disappeared among the tall, scrawny trees beyond the town. Nobody, except Alfric, has received word from the mischievous catfolk since then.