A Spot of Silver
A master silversmith in Fallcrest, Argenta’s living is dependent on two things. First, she needs the raw silver ore from the silver mines of Sarthal. And second, due to the general lack of extremely wealthy nobility in the Nentir Vale, she needs safe routes to ship her best work to markets south of the region. While she does a decent business among the petty nobility of her homeland, she is a talented silverworker, and her very best work can command a significant price in wealthier regions of the world.
She has thought of moving closer to her main markets many times — it is a risky proposition, shipping silver goods across country, and an expensive one — but never seems to find the time. Fallcrest is, after all, her home, and she has to admit she likes the Nentir Vale. The climate, in particular, agrees with her.
Recent Storyline-Centered Events
Recently, Argenta received an urgent missive from one of her suppliers, a man named Vael. It arrived in the dead of night by emergency courier — not a normal method of communication, by any stretch.
The note spoke of an unnamed threat soon to beset the region of Harkenwold, and warned her to recall any caravans through the area immediately and come up with new supply routes. This was, on a good day, merely problematic: Argenta’s main supply lines stretched right down the Kingsroad through Harkenwold, and to change them would be costly and difficult. But this wasn’t a good day: not six days ago, she had sent a caravan driver out with a wagon containing a few of her finest pieces, well-hidden among a number of other assorted oddments to deter the pilferage of tariffs along the Kingsroad. Petty nobility loved to have their take, earned or not!
Calling All Adventurers!
With all due haste, she convened a ragtag band of adventurers, culled from consulting friends and friends-of-friends about who had done work for them in the past. At last, it was the tiefling Staimos, the dwarf Merri, the elf Vamaniel, and the revenant dwarf Torik standing before her in the early morning hours. She didn’t necessarily like the looks of them — the tiefling in particular seemed to let his eyes linger on the silverwares on display in her showroom for a bit longer than she would like — and she wasn’t sure at all of what to do with an undead dwarf, albeit an apparently quite polite one, standing in her receiving room. But the elf came with high references from a friend of hers whose business regularly required the assistance of a skilled woods-walker, and the other dwarf — the living one — had been sent to repay a favor owed her by the Templar of Bahamut himself! That, at least, gave her reason for faith.
Telling the travelers what she knew, she gave them a simple quest: find the caravan driver, and have him come back to Fallcrest with all due haste. She promised the adventurers that he would pay them well for completing this mission. But she also asked for something more complicated: she wants to be spared the expense of having to figure out new routes for her goods. If the adventurers can drive out whatever threatens Baron Stockmer’s lands, she will reward them handsomely — and she is sure the Baron will do the same.