The Hoard of the Dragon Queen was a small 5th Edition D&D game we ran on Discord. It was done in Text only.

 

Garbek gladly takes the ink from Ra'Sha. "Many thanks, lad, so what do I owe ya in this devil's deal? A mug of the finest... whatever the hell they've got?" The bulky dwarf doesn't wait for an answer and puts the ink in his backpack while looking around for a place to get a drink (or two). "What's a man gotta do to make his belly slosh around here?!" He yells cheerfully as he wanders towards the sounds of potential drinking partners.

  
 

Upon exiting the caravan Slaen grabbed a bowl of food to eat, gladly paying any fees the servers suggested, and then adding an extra silver to the amount. She then brought her backpack, her food and sat down around the firepit. Also curious as to what exactly the young dragonborn was intending to play she leaned an ear close.. only to retract immediately once the first note kicked in. "Gods, that is something else alright.... but it isn't..... awful" Holding onto the last word for but a moment, she smirked and then winked at the young one, then joined in with the clapping, singing and cheering that came from Archy's impromptu performance. After a while Slaen finds a comfortable place to lay her bed mat and settles down to some quiet reading to bring the night in, saying to herself: "It's been a while since something fun happened on this trip, this young dragonborn isn't what I expected initially, but I'm fond of him"

  
  The Caravanners enjoy the musical burst. Smiles, tankards and songs rattle and emit from the collection of people. Some time passes. The hunters return with a few spoils and are greeted with smiles and cheers by many who notice them. The darkening horizon has molded into the dead of night. Some start preparing their own mats and beds while others start packing up their small stalls. Some of the more simple merchants who sell their wares off the same carpet they sit on stay, many of the regular travelers retreat to their wagons. A few soft tones of a harp remain, trying to entertain at the lowest volume possible. The guards have their rotations, their midnight meals and have one of their co-workers do many rounds with hot beverages to keep them alert. It is tranquil. A slight bit of murmuring of conversation and the light chirping of burning wood are almost all you could hear now.  
 

Noticing the crowd having enjoyed the performance and preparing for the night, Archy complacently stores his intrument in his backpack. Not yet tired, he walks around the parameters, exchanging smiles and toasting with the less sober folk, until he sees Garbek. He raises his wooden mug "Good 'evening Mister Dwarf, i hope you liked our music! How are you finding the ale here? It's not very tasty but it definitely warms the belly" Archy hickups, a small gout of flames exit his nostrills, and chuckles to himself "Ma always said to stay away from alcohol, said it's the scourge of civilization and a good Faerûnian should avoid it like the plague. I don't see any harm in this stuff myself though, what's so bad about it anyway?"

  
  "Evenin' there, hatchling!" Garbek says, immediately followed by a feigned worried look. "Oh gods... did she not tell you why you should avoid it? It makes your scales fall off, boy, seen it happen to many of your kind. I hope for your sake there's still plenty left in that mug..."  
  Archy's smile quickly fades in to a worried expression, as he stares for a second at Garbek and then back to his almost finished mug

He then snaps out of his stare and nervously says "Ha Mister Dwarf, that wont happen... I'm sure...right?" Archy eyes his mug suspiciously, and holds it out to Garbek "But you can take the rest, if you want, I think i've had enough"

  
 

Ra'sha was outside murming to himself pondering in deep thought realizing the dwarf had a drink waiting for him. He then walks up to the dwarf who went off not to far away Are we ready to seal the devil's pact with the drinks? The thirst is unbearable...

  
 

Garbek chugs Archy's drink without a second thought or 'thank you'. He then turns to Ra'Sha. "I was 'bout to hit the sack, actually, sorry lad. Appreciate you rememberin' though. In almost one smooth movement he takes the sleeping mat off his backpack, tosses it down on the floor, lays down, closes his eyes and mutters: "We can share that lovely liquid breakfast when we wake, that fine with ya?" Garbek somehow manages to fall asleep and start snoring halfway through that last sentence.

  
  noticing most travellers are tired and getting ready for the night, Archy does the same. Unpacking his bed roll and finding a nice place at a fire to keep warm for the night Archy tries to sleep. Although with some sounds of wildlife and people around alerting him slightly, with the aid of alcohol he falls asleep soundly  
  Spyeye dozed off in hazy dry herb infueled dreams awhile ago, hoping he will be more energetic and active after he wakes up  
  Sleep takes you all at it's own pace and guides you through an uneventful night. In the early morning, the guards switch and hunters return to the circle of wagons and carts. A bright sun, clouded by light fog surrounds the plains and oozes into the neighboring forests. The chirping of birds and soft clatter of equipment echo over the small camp. The horses are fed, prepped and lovingly talked to by their handlers before they get attached to their wagons again. The Caravan Master surveys her maps and tools while scholars rattle off checklists to her. In between her gaze to the papers, her words to the scholars and her directive points to nearby workers she finds time to continue drinking her hot beverage in hand. Some of the smaller stalls have quickly set themselves up again for the morning. The gnomes in particular have set up some of their stranger, eccentric machines. Glass baubles connected to thin lines under a heated plate of iron. Some are busy at a table set against it, eagerly sipping their drinks and mashing plants and herbs. Once fed into the machine, a steaming liquid emerges from the other end. In quick exchanges with eager customers, copper flies over of the counter. Small groups on blankets shake off their drowsy haze as they share breakfast. Some share their stories, their tobacco or a soft musical tune by instruments. While there is a calm air over the camp, the laborer's of the caravan stay ever in motion and they prepare. If the schedule does not find itself lacking, the caravan should resume it's journey North East in only a short hour.  
  Archy wakes up and checks if all his scales are still in place. Reassured nothing happened, he packs his stuff and goes through his morning routine, eating the last dried rations and packing his belongings for the journey to continue.  
 

Slaen comes back to full-consciousness from her nightlong meditation, packs up her bedroll into her rucksack and starts to do some light body exercises and a modified form of what looks like yoga. Knowing that she will be sitting for the majority of the day she uses this time to prepare in anyway she can. Keeping a caring but nonchalant watch over the young dragonborn after hearing last nights teasing from other members of the group. She approaches, and says in a low and calm tone: "Morning, tough guy. (Immitating his muscles) Archy was it? How'd you sleep last night? It's been a long journey so far, hopefully not much further to go." Slaen then attempts to find a local water source in order to refill her waterskins for the days travel ahead.

  
 

Still chewing on a piece of dried sausage, slightly startled, Archy smiles proudly after hearing tough guy, and assumes a chest forward, chin up pose "I Slept quite well! Who'd thought sitting in a rocky carriage all day could be so exhausting..." Bits of food fall out of his mouth while he is talking, and he holds up the remaining sausage towards Slaen "You want some? It's pretty good, i can warm it up for you if you'd like!" He then sticks with Slaen, walking next to her, shamelessly and curiously staring at her skin, ears and elven mystique "I-I don't think i caught your name though, You're an elf right? do you have an elven name or a normal one?" He askes curiously

  
 

At the mention of the food, with a slight, wave of her hand Slaen replies: "No thank you, but I appreciate the offer. I prefer to fast till the 12 bells, then eat in the hours that follow. I feel it gives me more consistent energy throughout the day without having to jolt myself with energy first thing in the morning; It's how I was brought up you see." Slaen notices Archy's curious staring but it does not bother her all that much, and she rather enjoys the company. "Yes, I'm an elf; a forest elf to be exact, hence the more olive tones in my skin. I come from the Dualeth forest guard of the Silverwood forest, southwest of Silverymoon. My full formal name if you will is Slaen'ikki Dualeth, but you can just call me Slaen. The whole gifted prefix thing, really makes me stand out more than my ears do this far south." She says with a smile and slight joking tone in her voice, as she points to her ears.

  
 

Archy shrugs, throws the last piece of ration in his mouth, and continues to listen attentively to Slaen and nods understandingly. "I think they're cool, your ears I mean. I'm a Dragonborn! But I'm not sure what that means. Ma and Pa never really talked about that."

  
 

Slaen's eyes narrow with a hint of annoyance at the thought of withheld historical information, and then quickly shakes the expression off her face. "They didn't? Well I used to do a lot of studying on the ins and out of various races and I'll have you know that a Dragonborn is the perfect mix between man and beast. You've got the best parts from both, and the potential to be a real fighting machine if you've got the guts for it, kid." She says as she jokingly pokes Archy's midsection, and then continues story telling for the young dragonborn noticing that he seems actually interested in what she has to say. "A story I once read, told of Dragonborn's taking up arms and fighting against the evil tyrant-like Dragons in the nation of Tymather! It's not often that you'll find someone willing to appose a dragon, but you and your kind.. you don't think twice. That's something you should be proud of, I say!"

  
 

Archy's coal black eyes open up a bit wider upon taking in the information and staring at his talon-like hands in self-reflection. A feeling of pride rushes in about hearing of his kind being known for heroic deeds "Mix of Man and Beast... But ma or pa weren't beasts..." He mumbles inaudible, before he pipes up, smiles at Slaen and asks in an optimistic tone: "Do you think I can beat a Dragon?"

  
 

Looking at the dragonborn with an endearing look Slaen continues:" I think if you train hard enough at what you're good at, with a good foundation you can achieve anything. You've just got to keep a clear mind, and focus on the task at hand!

  
 

Archy takes a jump forward and draws his longsword and playfully slashes the air infront of him "I Bet I can take a dragon! I'm a Dragonborn!" He bellows to his unseen opponent, before a slash throws him off balance and he awkwardly lowers his weapon. "But some more training could never hurt I guess"

  
 

Slaen chuckles, and then approaches Arhcy with an amused facial expression, she mimics Archy's former stance while explaining: Good power on the swing, but the problem there is your feet; they are to close together. Taking on an almost instructoresque tone, She points to her feet. Like this, you have no chance of keeping balance, unless you had metal poles running up your legs anchored to the ground! Here try it like this.. She mimics his former stance, and then shows him a wider stance with one foot forward; then continues to move forwards and backwards in it emphasising body weight through the back leg. Like this, you have a better chance of staying on your feet when push comes to shove. Try working on it the next time we camp up for the night. I'm going to finish grabbing some fresh water for my skins, I'll see you back at the wagon in less than a bell! With a quick wave towards Archy, Slaen quickly hurries to finish her morning activities and gathering of fresh water that she can find.

  
 

Listening and watching closely, Archy mimicks Slaen. He then drops his stance and waves, "See you at the wagons!" and continues his slashes through the air.

  
  In the far distance, a plume of dark smoke reaches over the trees and grows ever threatening. The guards facing the North East see it appear in their line of sight and worry sets in. One in heavy plated and mail armor beckons a scholar type and frantically engages in a heated talk. His limbs reaching and pointing against the scholars' nodding and aggressive questioning. The caravan Master quickly finds her way to these 2 and joins the rising clamor. Stern faced as ever, she listens to the scholar and guard rant and rave with wild motions. Merchants and travelers start slowing down, more faces start turning to the North East and the joyous sounds of life start becoming silenced through out the small camp. The smoke billows and grows over the treeline and funnels itself into the clear sky. Now, the camp grows truly quiet. A small, stocky bald man rushes to the Caravan Master with a handful of scrolls, papers and documents. Fervently he shakes a map at her from his close-to-the-ground position, for a brief moment her face shines with disgust and annoyance before she returns a few short words. The short man raises and flails his arms as he returns to his small tent. The echo of birds fleeing start wavering through the air from the forests as metal clanking starts to emit from the wagon camp. The guards start checking their equipment as the more scholar types start packing bags with what seems like medicine and magical reagents. The Caravan Master starts pointing, commanding and prepping wagons and carts. A few workers start stacking boxes around the center of the wagon circle. A bit of a cloth on top and a crude horn-like contraption on it signify it as a stage. One of the workers makes contact with the Caravan Master. She starts approaching the make-shift podium as many travelers and merchants start looking confused.  
 

Archy is confused

  
 

Ra cheerfully was humming his morning coffee song and was walking around after waking up an hour ago. Book clenched under one arm, contemplating last night. He was on his way again towards to his caravan. He passed by some blackspots that used to be fire places and looked at empty mugs and trails of comfort and laughter. He arrived at his little wooden "home". In the doorway he heard the ruckus and stuck his horned head out to see what was up. "Oh my. What will it be?" He notices the young dragonborn confusingly looking around, not knowing what to do. He walks up to him with fast pace, yet approaches him calmly. "Archy! Young scaled one. Don't fret. Let us check with the caravan master what is happening and what we might be able to do?"

  
 

Finding herself several hundred metres from camp, finally finding water to fill her waterskin with. Slaen first notices the sudden dispersal of birds in chaotic flight; followed by the eerie silence of the bustling caravan she's familiar with and quickly turns and runs to back to the campsite to find her young friend; finding herself somewhat protective over the young dragonborn. "What happened, is everything okay? I saw the birds and I-" Now getting a fuller picture of events, seeing the dark towers rising and bustle of a command structure forming, she interjects herself.. "We need to help." Before finding her way to the caravan master, she turns to Archy and nudges him in the shoulder. "If the need arises, are you ready to put those skills we worked on into practice?" She acknowledges the horned figure, not quite sure how to take him, before continuing "Agreed, let's get to it."

  
  Still holding his sword in hand and slightly bewildered by the sudden change in the atmosphere, Archy looks at Ra and Slaen, and mutters a soft but unsure acknowledgement, before following Slaen towards the make-shift stage  
 

The sudden relative silence takes Garbek out of his lazy slumber. He sits up, looks around with squinted eyes... "We movin' on this quickly?" He asks with a heavy morning voice. He struggles to open his eyes further and sees the tense atmosphere. He gets up, his legs wobbling, but he gets up. He clumsily gathers his stuff and joins the more familiar faces.

  
  The Caravan Master takes the small soap-box stage with a quick stride. She looks over for a moment to all those in attendance and clears her throat.

"Everyone! There are clear signs of a large fire in the neighbouring town of Greenest. I will not demand your assistance, but I will welcome it at any time. We will hold the caravan here while we send out a small detachtment to investigate. We have positive relations with many of the settlements on the trail to the Swordcoast and we are bound to adhere when aid is needed."

She takes a last look and takes a deep breath. She signals to a small group of warriors who have taken one of the carts and are getting their horses ready. They nod, make room on the back of the wooden cart and start sitting in the cart or on a horse. The warriors stay silent as much as they can and react almost instantly to the Caravan Masters command.

We have room for those who wish to join us. Again, I would not ask this lightly and I understand those who would not wish to put themselves in harms way. We still vow to ferry you all safely to your destinations regardless, but please understand that we hold many responsibilities. Those who wish to join, please, come here."

The Caravan Master points to the cart that had been loaded with men and horses. 3 Iron armor clad men sit ready in the cart, 1 helms the rider position and murmurs to his horses. The cart is a simple 2 wheel, wooden construction. Some of the merchants who just witnessed the speech confide to their mercenaries. Whispers roam the camp for moment as the Caravan Master steps off the box. Before her feet hit the ground, her scholar assistant is already waving his arms and papers to her. While not in a angered tone, you certainly see a man in a very stressful situation.		  
  Archy carefully walks closer to hear or see what the scholar assistant is stressed about  
 

After listening to the instructions given Slaen nods in understanding and quickly makes her way over to the cart signalling to Archy to follow along. She looks to the most armoured figure in the small group in a hopeful attempt of speaking with the leader. She offers her hand and says: "Greetings Ser Paladin; Slaen'ikki of the Silverwood, I'm here to help. What do we know.. if anything so far?" Slaen then props up onto the cart, and swiftly finds a seat among the crew.

  
 

Ra sees Archy and Slaen move towards the cart and then turns to Garbek. "Let us move swiftly." Ra then follows after the two and walks on towards the iron clad man managing the horses." "Oi! I am here to aid. The back is getting a bit full. Allow me to sit next to you." Ra's face changes and gives the man a serious, yet kind nod

  
 

Garbek slaps himself awake with both hands and follows Ra. "Aye, right behind ya"

  
 

As you approach a bit closer you hear the Scholar repeat phrases such as "We're off schedule." "Greenest is not on the course." and "Damning circumstance." You see Slaen beckon you towards the cart being loaded with uniformed men and volunteers.

The man at the helm of the cart holding the reins gives a sly smirk. He bows his head slightly for a second. css "How offical. Here's what we know" He points to the black smoke clouds over the forrested hill ahead. A coughing laugh escapes him for a moment.

The man looks at you as you proclaim your assistance. He points his thumb over his shoulder.

Alright. Plenty of room. The man leans forward and mutters to his horses again. A short sentence. Garbek lands himself among the crew in the back. He look around for a moment as he reaffirms the reins in his hands. For a second he sighs and exclaims: Departing!

  
  After Archy sees Slaen signalling to follow her, he pulls a small sprint and also climbs aboard the cart  
  The cart starts it's progress as the fellow occupants salute the Caravan Master. The armored men from the Caravan mostly keep to themselves. A few times they hold out their water canteens and parts of their packaged food to you. The man at the helm of the cart introduces himself as Hanford. He begins by tracing his finger over the flat horizon to the North East. He explains that the plains here are amazingly plain. A few small woods here and there dot the landscape and he explains how Greenest has a bit of flora growing through it, too. A hill in the middle of Greenest has a large keep on it and it's mostly flat houses. He describes it as a quiet community who does well for itself. After looking at the sky for a brief moment he informs you that it should only be a short while and you should arrive before sundown. After a pause he begins again; he tells you how their first priority is staying alive and being able to report back. "Save those you can but don't dive into fire for it" he states. He empathizes to stick together and keep your eyes open.  
  As the sun starts it's decent, you start seeing the small homestead in the distance. Quaint wooden homes circled around the hill Hanford mentioned, spare trees weaving their way through the town. To the South East edge of the town the black smoke rises and taints the sky. Small blips of light are visible and are identified as fires by everyone. For as sober as the mood was, it find itself sink even more as the image becomes unmistakable. Moving closer and closer reveals destruction far more brutal then seen from afar. On the South East side of the town homes lie in ruin or in a bed of ash. From here, you can make out more of the people. You see bodies, young and old on the ground, unmoving. Black-dressed humanoid figures of varying sizes seem to walk together and have weapons drawn. From the edge of where they entered the town, they start to split and scatter into groups. Hanford halts the wagon a small distance from Greenest. He says to approach slowly as he huddles the horses under a nearby patch of trees. The other men lay low and study the town from this distance. The stench of fire lingers harshly in the air as the sun starts to touch the horizon on it's way down. A cold breeze brings what you can only recognize as the faint smell of blood.