An entry in a battered leather journal...

Yesterday, I thought to track down a vaunted jeweller and pick her brain about tessellated emeralds. Instead, Highland Rim was besieged by a dragon! A dragon, of all things. Despite the danger, I couldn’t help but admire the glint of its ice scales in the sunlight. I’m sure one would make a pretty pendant, and more would make a beautiful piece of glinting chainmail.
 
A group of those fleeing the city ended up stuffed into a carriage together, which was due to take us to safety and instead dumped us on the outskirts of a small town called Phandalin. I confess I have never heard of it, and more for the better as we were almost immediately set upon by ruffians looking for free coin.
 
Lucky by name, lucky by nature, they bought my trick with the pebbles…though I suppose the presence of a 7ft half-orc lurking at my shoulder may have helped too. This group is strange, to be sure. I’m not entirely convinced what to make of them. But at any rate, I ought to return to the group before they move on without me; I was only supposed to stop for a sandwich and an ale.