I found the shrine of luck in Phandalin that
had been mentioned in the tales. It was looked after by a follower of
Kelemvor and a mystic of Selûne. The mystic, Sister Sandren, told me
that she recalled Shadow of the Pride, although she had known her back
then as Lorien Moonshadow.
Her first memories of her were as a
young girl, when she had seen Shadow of the Pride for the first time.
She recalled her looking in a poor state, with ragged clothing and
demeanour that was taken as a vagrant to the town. Time spent with
Shadow of the Pride showed her wisdom and knowledge of the worship of
Selûne, one that set Sandren on the path to mystic she holds today.
She
told me how Shadow of the Pride came with a group, much as I had, but
the group were set upon soon after by a group of ruffians, who were
resoundingly defeated. The last they were heard of was when they headed
towards a mine nearby, where the mastermind of the ruffians seemed to
originate, and none were seen again. However she did mention that the
mine itself, and part of the mountain it was of, disappeared entirely,
as if some great hand had merely lifted it away. Nothing was heard
since then, except for an old man who came many years later telling
tales of the group's deeds.
I can only assume the man was
Lucklan, the same bard who brought the body of Shadow of the Pride back
to her father and her clan after a lifetime apart, telling those same
tales. Of them I did not ask. I am interested in the truth, as close
as I can find it, and it will not come from retelling fables several
people apart from the situation.
I gave her a donation towards
the upkeep of the shrine, although mostly in gratitude for her time and
words. She offered a blessing, although she was dubious about how much
good it would do in my travels. I am used to guidance coming through
circumstances, but if nothing else I prefer to keep any gods in good
humour with me, or better yet, not notice me at all.
----==I==----
Something of note, I managed to help diffuse a situation in which a winter wolf was involved. It had been driven from its home on the mountain nearby by a white dragon, one we had encountered briefly on the road to Phandalin, and was starved for the same reasons. I expect that finding game will be difficult, both for wildlife and for those living in the area, with the dragon having not only divested the countryside of its bounty, but also having stolen the food cart from its journey to supplement the town's resources. It is not even winter, but the weather is far colder than it should be. Crops will not do well if the weather continues to alter as it has been. I doubt the townsfolk will move, but its survival in the coming year seems bleak. It may well be that if I survive my task on this mountain, that I will be coming back down to more duty in the ruins left by human folly.