The Bargewright clan is young; less than five generations old. Five Noble families from around the north staked their land; their gold; and blood into a new influential family that unified them by arranged marriages and trade agreements. Iron wood trees from Uluvin, harvested from the high forest were used in the construction of the Bargewright Inn that serves as the heart of the community.
Under the light of the Moon, Aldon Bargewright wiped cleaned his sword and checked on his men, only five hostlers remained. Aldon grimaced, he would have to rely more on the shopkeepers and smiths to take up a sword in defense of the Bargewright Inn should the need arise.
Reports coming in were confusing because no one recounted anything amiss. Neither the guards on the walls nor the patrol reported no sign of them entering or leaving. It is as if the three orogs appeared and disappeared out of thin air, though not before they sent a dozen men, good men, to the clearing at the end of the path.
Aldon consulted Philemon of the House Jardeth on the matter; his council was most welcome in these times of trouble. Philemon was noble cavalier from Waterdeep that rode Tavelia, a pearly white pegasi. They sought refuge after a close encounter with a wayward frost giant in the Forlorn Hills.
After agreeing that watch should be doubled until the dawn, Aldon returned to the Bargewright. Exhausted in this late hour, he met with his attendant Salem Ironring; more human in mannerisms than that of his dwarven blood; he informed Aldon that a caravan had arrived late and awaited his audience.