Lucky Greenbottle
Lucky Greenbottle
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Kithri Greenbottle (sister): she is three years younger than me and left Newbarrow to train with a wizard in the city of Insmere. She disapproves of the way I handled our father’s gambling and thinks I ought to have been gentler with him. She knows that I got into some sort of fight with the gamblers of Newbarrow but doesn’t know that I have started heisting things.
Ander Greenbottle (father): once an acclaimed goldsmith in his own right in Newbarrow, he changed significantly once my mother disappeared. He took up drinking and gambling, first spending the money he had accumulated and then spending money he didn’t have. He took my money, my brother’s money, my sister’s tuition money…and still didn’t see any reason to stop. I humoured his grief for a long time, until he broke into my workshop and stole mother’s silver ring to pay off his gambling debts. Disrespect to her, I won’t tolerate.
Lindal Greenbottle (brother): Lindal is a dumbass, a holier-than-thou member of the city guard protecting Newbarrow from all manner of fiends and foes which, let’s be real here, consists of overly drunk townsfolk and the occasional unruly salmon. He turns a blind eye to all the gambling and criminality in Newbarrow, and then has the audacity to be angry at me for stealing back something that belonged to me in the first place.
Milo Tealeaf (brother, changed surname): Milo is the smartest of the Greenbottle clan since he decided to move away and change his name. Admittedly, both of those were because he married the heir of the Chenyu District premier tea-grower and also wanted to grow tea, which is impossible in Newbarrow. He is the oldest of the siblings and has long since decided he has no time for our nonsense, or that of our father. He point-blank refuses to get involved in our arguments, and whenever I write to him complaining about things, he sends them back unopened with a note to tell him something more interesting.
Roscoe Tealeaf (Milo’s husband): Lucky knows next to nothing about Milo’s husband, aside from the fact that he is the heir to a tea-growing dynasty in Chenyu District.
Bree Greenbottle (mother, missing): The mother of the Greenbottle siblings was an accomplished jeweller and silversmith, well-respected in the town for her no-nonsense attitude and ability to resolve any conflicts. Lucky doesn’t remember much of her, as she was often away on commissions and disappeared when he was relatively young. In regard to the disappearance, Ander refuses to speak on it, but Lucky has heard from other townsfolk that Bree set out one morning to deliver a commission and simply never re-emerged from the woods. Oddly though, the silver-opal ring which was the commission had been left in the workshop, and the commissioner never came looking for it.
#3 An entry in a battered leather journal...
8th Firstbreeze, 812
8th Firstbreeze, 812
Go deliver these supplies to the Dwarven Excavation, they said. It’ll be an easy handful of gold, they said. I suppose this is a lesson to teach us not to trust strange old men with no shoes lurking at job boards. It has been an eventful few days, but now we have made the round trip and are back at the Beheaded Orc Inn at Phandalin and there is finally a moment to collect my thoughts.
My first thought is that I ought to write to Kithri before I leave here. Thrain and I got to talking during last night’s second watch, and while I knew that he was a wizard of course, it was a surprise to learn that he was still new to magic. In our few days travelling together, he seemed to be so knowledgeable and competent that I assumed he must have been practicing magic for years already. I suggested to him that if we do part ways and he is in need of further research, he might want to take a visit to Kith at Marcon’s Academy in Insmere.
Second, Lorelai almost died. She had been weird ever since we finished fighting the jellies in the altar room, even standing directly in Faen’s line of fire when he was trying to get a shot on the jelly attacking Azriel and refusing to move until he forced her to. We thought that was the last one, but when we turned back to take a rest, we found Jerryn in the doorway. Alas, we spied the jelly too late to save him. Ghoulish things. Lorelai was knocked unconscious by a jelly but the combined skills of Frederick and Thrain were able to stabilise her. We were able to move her to the entrance of the excavation in order to recover a little more.
That’s where Thrain and I got talking, and I confess that while I was supposed to be sleeping beforehand, I overheard some of Faen’s conversation with Frederick. I learned that he was discharged from the military due to a diagnosis of psychosis – he claims that it was made up so that he could be free from his duty but having overheard his night terrors I’m not entirely convinced.
He’s an interesting fellow though – over the course of two days I have watched him turn into a rat, a horse and an ape. Incredible feats, even if he did use the latter to win a bet made in good faith.
I will have to wrap up my thoughts here as there is a wailing bard in the corner and it has distracted all of us.
A Letter to Lucky Greenbottle
18th Frostfall 812
18th Frostfall 812
Lucky Greenbottle
The Baudy Bard Inn
Highland Way
Highland Rim
Dear Lucky,
What in the hells are you playing at brother?
In my last letter I ordered you to return home at once, and yet when I last conversed with Milo he told me that you had passed through Chen-Yu Vale and were on your way to Highland Rim searching for some silversmith or another. I am not jesting with you, brother. Return home at once and set right the chaos you have caused or else I will be coming after you to drag you home by your ear.
Father is so furious with you that he cannot even put ink to paper and I am in complete agreement with him. You have done many a stupid thing in your life, brother, but this one really takes the cake—
The page is torn away here, as though the letter has been ripped in half.
#2 An entry in a battered leather journal...
4th Firstbreeze, 812
4th Firstbreeze, 812
The rest of this ragtag group has gone to sleep, so now is as good a time as any to update this journal. Taking up contracts and vanquishing were-rats for a handful of coin is not what I had in mind when we fled Highland Rim, but Tymora has laid this path before me for a reason. Or so I hope.
A half-orc who is my height four times over, a druid who seems plagued by his own shadow, a monk inside her own head more often than not, some wood-elf ranger who mutters to himself about a growing worm and a dwarf who is none to keen on dwarves. A motley crew if there ever were one. Still, I suppose I have some gold ore and a meat pie out of the arrangement so far, and they are fairly decent company after a few bad ales.
We are due to make a delivery to the Dwarven Excavation nearby once we have rested for the night, and I cannot fathom why but the thought fills me with unease. Perhaps I am simply drawing on Thrain’s own anxiety about the trip; though he was alight with our victory against the were-rat, he seems to have withdrawn in recent hours. It could, of course, be his grief at leaving behind that beautiful bear-skin rug to rot away in a basement.
While I write this, I contemplate the rest of our group. The monk, Lorelai, and the ranger are both deep asleep, though I confess that I thought elves didn’t need to sleep…and when the lead of my pencil snapped earlier I am certain I saw Faen twitch. Feigning sleep, then, the pair of them. Frederick at least, seems to genuinely be sleeping, though he is prone to night terrors. Azriel, too, curled around her giant battle axe.
I don’t like to go anywhere without friends, and usually I am fast to make them, but while the ale lifted all of our spirits, I can tell we are not at ease with one another. Not friendly. Not yet, if I have anything to say about it. An adventure to a Dwarven Excavation would not be complete without some friends, and after the mess in Newbarrow, I could certainly use some.
I’m sure that Faen knows a thing or two about regret which we could bond over, but I confess, he is a little too grim for my tastes. Azriel on the other hand, I am sure that we would be fast friends, if only she didn’t have to crouch down for us to have a conversation. Perhaps we will find a cart along the way, and I won’t need to run to keep up with her on the road.
Tomorrow is a new day, a new opportunity for both coin and for friendships, and Tymora knows I will endeavour to see it to fruition even it means diverging from the path I had intended for this season.
Fortune favours the bold.
An entry in a battered leather journal...
2nd Firstbreeze, 812
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.
Letter to Kithri Greenbottle
1st Firstbreeze, 812
1st Firstbreeze, 812
Kithri Greenbottle
Dormitory 8A, The Circle
Wizard Marcon’s Academy of Excellence
Insmere
Dear Kith,
I know that you are stubborn, sister, but it has been months. Will you please write back to me so that I know you are well? Lindal at least responds to my letters, though they are full of reproachment. I understand that you cannot understand why I had to do what I did, and I do not expect you to; despite being siblings we have lived very different lives. Papa has not been the same since mother disappeared, and the man he has become is not someone that I can truly consider to be my father.
But I am still your brother. And I miss you, Kith.
I have recently arrived in Highland Rim on the search for Rynwin, the acclaimed jeweller. I had heard that she was secretly hosting a silver-working class in the city, though I confess I have yet to find it. I’m sure that you think that I only have nefarious intentions now, but leaving home doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped aspiring to be a jeweller, only that I have outgrown Newbarrow, just as you did when you left for Insmere.
After Highland Rim perhaps I will head South and visit you in Insmere. Or perhaps you could meet me halfway. Or perhaps you will ignore this letter in its entirety and continue to pretend that I do not exist.
Your brother, always.
Lucky
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