Trekking along the High Road as the sun began to set, Igor idled fiddled with the new

badge pinned
to his jacket. Looking down at the gauntlet closed around an upright sword he smiled thinking back
to his conversation with Sir Daran Edermath(?) in Phandalin. Noble or not, the eccentric old knight
was the epitome of what the nobility should be; staunch defenders of those in their domain,
protectors and providers for those who can’t do so for themselves. If his father felt the same
perhaps their relationship wouldn’t have been so contentious… Shaking his head, his eyes were
drawn back to the badge affixed to his chest.

The Order of the Gauntlet seemed too good to be true. A whole organisation spanning the world,
dedicated to fighting evil wherever it can be found. A chance to use his “curse” for what it was really
meant for. Reaching down into the warm well of power within, he thought he could feel the vaguest
sense of approval for a moment, then nothing. Sometimes he felt as if the power within him was
sentient, but any emotions he felt from the core of himself were fleeting, and mirrored his own so
closely that it was hard to tell if there was anything there at all.

Bringing his attention back to the road ahead and his companions walking beside him, he watched as
Marigold and Zelda, heads locked in conversation, moved to the side of the road to make way for a
caravan passing south towards Waterdeep. He did the same and watched as the caravan rolled past,
the burly guards walking alongside paying them little mind; this part of the high road was relatively
safe and regularly patrolled by guards from Neverwinter and Waterdeep. Looking back he saw Gray
bringing up the rear, watching the caravan with an almost childlike curiosity. He struggled to
comprehend how strange it must be for the man, being out in the world where everything was so
new and little knowledge of the dangers of the Sword Coast.

Up ahead he could see Einar in the distance returning after scouting ahead to find a campsite, the
large barbarian making an imposing figure striding purposefully back the group with his greataxe
slung easily across his back. Igor lost himself in thought for a moment, trying to guess how much it
weighed and if he could even lift it. The half-orc’s large strides cut the distance, and in no time at all
he made it back to the group. As he studied the reunited group around him, he realized that despite
all the challenges they’d faced, the close calls and the brushes with death, there was no where he’d
rather be.