Session 5: The Redbrands Hideout Part 2

The bridge spanned the crevasse before them. A rope bridge, somewhat rickety, the ropes frayed and the wood old. Mytar’s joking manner reappeared. ‘Don’t look down kids,’ he winked. Below the chasm reached at least 30 feet deep, the rock fading into darkness below them, and a cold aura surrounding the group. The gnome was unable to keep the cheerful outlook, this crevasse sucked the happiness into it. Everyone looked worn. Blood caked Thespus’s axe, which he held tightly, his knuckles white with strain. Ragnar’s head was bowed, in sadness, and respect of those they had killed. While it was necessary, it was apparent that the weight of their lives hung on him. They weren’t goblins, they were people. They had lives, experiences, feelings. A grim look passed across his face, and then his look returned to stone. Even Slagathor, careless, fun-loving, almost childish, seemed somewhat disturbed. Not necessarily by the effects of death and harm, rather something else troubled him, but even he knew not what it was.

The marched on, arriving unto the wooden door described to Mytar. He pressed a finger firmly to his lips, and quietly opened the door. The emerged into a room full of potions and glassware that smelled heavily of different herbs and plants. ‘Don’t touch anything’. Slagathor looked longingly at the components and potions, while Mytar continued, ‘not yet at least.’ A small brown creature scurried out from under the table in the centre of the laboratory, startling the party, who let fly a few missiles, to no avail, it scurrying into the adjacent room. Wary looks were exchanged, and the Gnome snuck up to the door and peered through the keyhole. He briefly caught a glimpse of a figure wearing long robes, holding a transparent staff, before no longer he could see a thing. 

Darkness emanated from the door, engulfing the room. Ragnar grabbed what he guessed was his gnome friend, and the party fled the chamber, however not before Mytar loosed a bolt of fire into the laboratory. They dashed down the hallway, while the darkness faded, and fire prevailed, followed by a booming explosion. Mytar glanced behind him in glee and saw the door crash into the opposite wall, smouldering. They looked across the crevasse, and saw the robed figure scurrying by, glancing about him nervously, when a smaller figure dropped from the ceiling onto it. The party got not to watch the scene, as they heard shouts from the hall behind them. A group of ruffians spilled into the corridor. ‘Who are you?’ one of them demanded. Mytar simply held up a hand. ‘We are here to help. Glasstaff explicitly said to return to the common room, where he would meet with you shortly. We are to look after this issue. Understood?’ The ruffians threw each other puzzled looks, until finally one nodded and they retreated out of the hall. The gnome’s three companion’s stared at him, mouths open with surprise. ‘May the odds be ever in my favour,’ he grinned, ‘don’t we have a wizard to attend to?’

The party rushed back to the cavern, where they heard the horrifying crunch of bones and slurping of a creature eating raw meat. They shined their lights on the creature hunched over the body, and they were greeting by a single, massive eye, and a cackle. ‘Nothic.’ It leapt at them, clawing at Thepus’s face and armour, until Ragnar grabbed the creature and threw it to the ground. The party hammered at it, weapons flailing, arrows skittering across stone and it’s armoured hide alike, until finally Thespus beheaded the creature, and it toppled into the crevasse. Mytar was the first to volunteer to venture downward, and so he was lowered by the others. The floor was even colder than above, his breath visible upon exhaling. He muttered a few words and clicked his finger and his vision changed to a deep shade of purple. ‘Necromancy,’ he breathed. He wandered over to the body of the nothic. The foul monster lay broken upon a rock, it’s head sat beneath it. He waded his way through the bones littering the floor, passing a body, which seemed fresh, uneaten, but definitely not alive. The hair was tied back into a ponytail, and a dull silver ring hugged his finger. Mytar’s face fell. He muttered a quick prayer and continued. A small wooden chest sat near to the body, upon opening yielded a small hoard of coin, and a blade that shined magically. True to the tales, Talon was as brilliant as they had foretold. A blade that had slain many a monster by the hand of legendary knight Blackhawk, was now in his hands. Mytar shed a single tear upon seeing the beauty that was this blade, and returned to the party with a heavy pack. Slagathor was the only one that noticed that Mytar’s pack was dripping somewhat, and curiously peered over the side of the crevasse. It may have just been a trick of the light, but he was sure that the nothic’s eye had gone missing.

The door burst open and a dwarf stood in the doorway. The ruffians glared at him until the continued their game of cards. ‘Glasstaff will be here shortly!’ he called. ‘I am to entertain you in the meantime!’ The thugs raised their eyebrows in confusion, to be met by a maul, shortly followed by an axe, arrows and a legendary blade. Blood coated the tables, chairs and weapons, before the party marched sternly onward. There was but room they had not explored, though they feared it not. The charged through the door, and slew the bugbears that resided within. Once the small battle was over, the companions cheered. A small goblin peered out from behind one of the beds within the barracks. Thespus raised his axe to fell the creature, but Ragnar raised his hand to stay the blade. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded of the goblinoid. ‘I-I-I-I a-a-a-am-m D-d-d-d-droop’ it stammered. ‘Why should I not slay you where you cower?’

‘D-d-droop can help.’ Ragnar’s face turned to curiosity. ‘How?’

‘D-d-droop kn-kn-knows p-places.’

‘Like the location of Cragmaw Castle?’

‘C-c-c-castle?’ Droop pondered. ‘Yes! Droop knows castle.’

‘How do we get there?’

‘W-w-well…you…go through the forest. Th-then when you get to…er…big tree, yes, big tree, you go…suth…yes, suth…then pass more trees…and you there!’ Ragnar looked hopelessly at the goblin. He turned to the party, ‘I think we need a guide.’ The group groaned but reluctantly allowed it. Ragnar turned back to the goblin, ‘where to first Droop?’

‘Er….’ Droop racked his brains then looked half-hopefully, half-confused. ‘Thundertree?’

Session 4: The Redbrand's Hideout

NOTE: Due to my lack of updates and uselessness, some details are not entirely accurate (and some have been added in for story purposes Jordan, just trust me). Apologies for this. Feel free to correct them by messaging me and I will update accordingly.

Also I am aware of some rule inconsistencies, however due to keeping the game fun I allowed it to play out.

Our heroes finished wiping the blood from their knuckles, and looked towards the manor atop the hill. Glasstaff was there. And he was to be dealt with. Suddenly, Galion collapsed, spasming on the ground, while party could but watch in horror at their friend in his uncontrollable state. When he calmed down, Vanar offered to take the unconscious back to the inn, and watch over him, while the other two dealt to the Redbrands. Thespus and Ragnar were more than happy to watch their blades rather than the wizard, and thus agreed without question. However halfway up the hill toward the manor, the pair was stopped, by a familiar voice humming a tune ahead of them, and they saw Mytar sitting atop a rock. “Well it’s about time you showed up,” growled Ragnar. “I was…” started the gnome, pondering over the words to use. “Busy,” he finished with a wink. Ragnar rolled his eyes and Thespus cracked a smile, when they heard a call from behind them. It was Slagathor. “What are you guys doing up here?”

“We,” replied Mytar, “are going to deal with the Redbrands. Care to join us?”

“Of course.”

And thus, the new party marched onward toward the wrecked manor, in quest for Glasstaff.

They found the door leading to the cellar, where the hideout was allegedly located. “Now, what’s the plan?” asked Ragnar. “I think we should light a fire at the door and suck all of the oxygen out of the cellar, thus suffocating all inhabitants and giving us free reign through the area beyond,” smiled Mytar. The others shot each other glances and glared at the gnome. “What?”

“Where are we going to find the fuel for the fire?”

“There’s spare timber around, it is a wrecked manor. And we have fire.” The others nodded in agreement. It was a rather fool proof plan. Plus, if it didn’t work, they didn’t lose anything. “Wait a second,” began Ragnar. “My other cousins are missing too. What if they’re in there?” he asked and gaze across the group. “I’m not suffocating my cousins.” Mytar argued the point, to no avail, and the conversation became rather heated, until at last Slagathor, with no care any longer for any kind of a plan, kicked the door in.

The party emerged onto a small flight of stairs that lead down to a camber, with a large cistern against the opposite wall, with an oak door beside it, and another door on the northern wall. Barrels and crates lined the walls, and upon closer inspection it was found that they held provisions. Salted meats, and the like. Ragnar dived head first into the semblance of food, while the others inspected the cistern. A small pouch clung to the inside of the cistern, submerged in the water, but when retrieved the drops rolled off it, and the satchel was completely dry. The party split the contents of a healing potion, a potion of invisibility, and fifty gold pieces amongst themselves. Suddenly through the eastern door burst three men in dirty red cloaks. Redbrands.

The party armed themselves for battle, and the first thing anyone heard was the scream of a banshee beside one of the Redbrands, who tripped over the edge of the cistern and fell in, much to the shock of everyone (and the amusement of Mytar). Thespus hacked away mercilessly at the lawless thugs, while Slagathor rained arrows from atop the stairs and Ragnar tried to prevent the Redbrand from exiting the cistern. He, unfortunately, failed at the pivotal moment of the struggle, resulting in him getting rather wet, and the Redbrand escaping from the pool. Mytar then conjured up the illusion of a Banshee as well as keeping the sound constant, and frightened another Redbrand so much he wet himself and ran back the way they had come from, while our dwarf friend climbed clumsily out of the pool and Thespus finished off the combatant with a swift heave of his axe, and threw the other into the cistern. Mytar used his prestidigitation spell the soak the surface of the water with tar, including the enemy inside. A flame was dropped onto the mess, and the entire thing went up in flames, and the poor man began to burn to death, drowning in tar. After following through the door the final enemy retreated to, Mytar approached the very frightened thug, and the room he was in was evidently their barracks, where he was hiding under his covers, shaking. He masked his face as that of a banshee’s, pulled back the covers, and merely said ‘Boo.’ The thug screamed and wailed, running out of the room, to only see one of his friends decapitated on the floor, and the other smouldering in the cistern. This shock and previous the previous mental scars proved too much for the poor man, and he went into cardiac arrest, which unfortunately took his life.

Meanwhile the rest of the party had moved on, unaware of Mytar’s brief bout of madness, exiting through the northern door, into a hallway, lined with half-pillars and a brass door capping it, with reliefs of mournful angels carved into its face. The party pushed on, Ragnar in the lead, and suddenly the floor gave way beneath him. He grabbed at the ledge, but found not holds, and fell 20 feet to the bottom of the pit, landing with a heavy thud. He groaned slightly, but dusted himself off, while the other made their way around the pit, along small ledges across the walls. He climbed out with assistance from a length of rope, noting to themselves to be warier of traps in future.

The doors grated open as the party forced themselves on them, and they emerged into what appeared to be a crypt. Three large stone sarcophagi stood before them, propped up against each a skeleton clad in scraps of armour. Ragnar knew all too well what this might be, and informed the others of his suspicions. Thus they did the only thing reasonable, and destroyed the skulls of the skeletons before they could rise, putting the bodies to rest.

There were two exits to the room, one to the east, and one to the north. The northern one that Slagathor explored first, lead into a small corridor with a locked room at the end of it, which the group ignored until they had dealt with the next room. A peek through the keyhole brought to attention the two Redbrands inside, oblivious to the party’s presence. The halfling downed his invisibility potion and snuck inside the room, and became aware of the cells at either end of the room, hosting a group of prisoners. Two women at one end, one middle aged and the other who looked somewhere around twenty, and a boy at the other. But his attention was focused on the threats for now. He snuck up behind one of them, and sliced his throat clean open with his dagger, and before the other one could say “Bloody hell!” he was on the ground also. Thespus and Ragnar charged into the room, to see what had happened, and noticed the prisoners after the bodies. The group broke down the cage doors, and let them free, to which the eldest woman fell into Thespus’s arms, sobbing. “They-they took him!” she cried. “Please ma’am, settle down, we need to find out what happened,” replied Thespus calmly. “Can we start with names? I am Thespus Corlynn, son of Thelus.”

“I-I’m Mirna….Mirna Dendrar, and these are my children, Nilsa and Nars. A-a few days ago, my husband went missing after defying the Redbrands….and then-then they abducted us,” she spluttered, choking back tears. “Can you tell us anything that might help us find your husband?” asked the noble. “N-not much. H-he has b-brown hair that was always tied back with a piece of twine…and he’ll have his wedding band on him, if the R-Redbrands didn’t steal it,” she replied. “Very well, thank you Mirna, we will do our best to find him, but first we must escort you out of this place to safety.” Ragnar agreed heartily, while Slagathor exclaimed that he wanted to check out the locked room at the end of the hall.

While Slagathor went about his business, the other two broke up the table in the centre of the room into planks, to lay across the pit, while tying a rope across the same edge, so everyone could navigate it safely. Thespus lead through the door, stopping suddenly in his tracks to see the horrifying mess that had been made in the room beside the exit, and turned to the family. “Er…hang on. There’s enemies afoot! Wait….here……” he explained, glared at Ragnar and closed the door behind him. “Mytar!” he hissed, “can you do some little illusionary crap and get rid of….THAT??”

“Oh, er yes, of course.” While Mytar tidied up the chamber Thespus clashed his axe against his armour, the ground and whatever else he could find while grunting and calling out in multiple voices. When all was finished he called “Okay, it’s safe now!” The family entered gingerly behind Ragnar, who glared back at Thespus and lead the family upstairs. “I have nothing in the way of a reward for your noble services, the Redbrands took everything we had,” began Mirna, “but I can tell you where a valuable heirloom of mine is hidden. When I was young, my family owned a herb and alchemy shop in Thundertree. Before we fled, I hid my emerald necklace hidden beneath some shelves. I don’t know if it is still there, but if you do find it, feel free to keep it. Again, thank you for everything.” She gave Thespus a hug of gratitude. “We can make our way home from here,” she smiled weakly. Nars hugged Thespus around the waist and spluttering “Thank-you mister, for saving us.” Thespus smiled, then glanced toward Nilsa, who blushed and gave a shy smile, and looked down at the ground. “Now, we have more people to save my friends, onward,” and persisted back into the dungeon.

Back into the dungeon, where Ragnar and Mytar began damn-near wetting themselves with laughter. “What the HELL was that??” Mytar asked, wiping a tear from his eye. “I did the best I could with the situation!” Thespus hissed back. “Oo look at me I’m fighting imaginary enemies,” mimicked Mytar dancing about, slapping stones with his blade. “From the other side of the door it sounded like a bloody good Suneday night!” howled Ragnar. The dwarf and the gnome were writhing on the floor in hysterics when the halfling wandered in with a bundle of weapons in his arms. “What’d I miss?”

Once the party had recuperated from their fit of hysterics, they realised that they had missed something. There had to be more to this compound. After a brief search, they found a secret door beside the cistern, on the opposite side from the barracks, which opened a corridor leading further in. Mytar spent a few moment conjuring up an illusionary group of undead to follow him, and he lead the party. The passage opened up into a massive ravine, with two rickety wooden bridges spanning it, at either end. Then he heard the voice. No one else seemed to hear it, but a rasping, cackling voice made itself known inside his head. “I see through you, gnome,” it said. Mytar dropped the illusion, “who are you?”

“Who am I?” it cackled, “why I am nothing but a creature, trying to survive in this dark, cruel world.”

“What do you want?”

“Food primarily. I’m getting sick of dead bodies. They become very…unlively after a time,” it cackled.

“Do you want to eat…me…?”

“Of course I do. But, if you make me an offer I cannot refuse, I may think otherwise.”

“I can get you meat, then will you talk?”

“Perhaps….”

Mytar soon returned with a barrel of salted meats, explaining to the others little, but just asking to trust him. The voice returned. “Into the crevasse, if you will.” Mytar pushed the barrel into the crevasse where it splintered on impact. “Good, good,” it seethed. “Now, what do you wish to know?”

“Where is Glasstaff?”

“The wizard, why, he is in his quarters of course.”

“Where are his quarters?”

“What do I get if I tell you that one?”

“The wizard.”

“Now that IS tempting. Well it is across the northern bridge. Keep going north, you’ll find it,” it chuckled, then the voice disappeared.

“We need to go north friends,” explained the gnome grimly. “What was that?” asked Ragnar. Mytar looked darkly at his friend. “I have no idea.”

Session 3: Phandalin

Refreshed and bandaged, the party was ready to continue their way to Phandalin, Sildar now conscious as well. He explained that he and Gundren were ambushed by a group of goblins and hobgoblins, their horses slain and themselves captured. They were both held in tis cave briefly before Gundren was taken, with the map, to a place called Cragmaw Castle, but the location wasn’t known to anyone present. They had time, and thus the party decided to give something they found the previous day a closer inspection, a small jade statuette of a frog, with golden orbs for its eyes. Galion used his magical prowess to detect that it had a faint aura of transmutation magic apparent, and Vanar recalled hearing stories about the Thundertree wizard (when Thundertree was still intact of course) owning such an artifact, peaking his interest about its origin and capabilities, however unable to identify it at this time, he held onto it. As they refilled their water skins, Ragnar noticed something peculiar about the water, and a minor amount of divine magic later, derived that it was a magical spring of some description. The waters flowed with the magic of life, but unsure which deity might have been responsible, the group decided it best to take this ‘spirit water’ with them, or at least as much as they could carry. Ragnar, especially curious, decided it best to take a barrel of it, however the two barrels present were full, one of an ale (Kuldahar Tree Sap they later discovered) and one of salted meat. They needed to empty one of them, so the dwarf did the only reasonable thing, and downed the barrel of alcohol. A few botched constitution saves later and the dwarf was stumbling through the cavern, giggling and laughing while Thespus carried the barrel over his shoulder and the others shook their heads in disbelief.

Upon exiting the cave, the party realised that Slagathor was still unconscious outside, on the banks of the stream. Good thing Thespus had two shoulders, ‘one for each deadweight,’ he reasoned. The group made their way back to the cart, and without much trouble, made their way to Phandalin. The hamlet was the beginnings of a reconstruction effort, with forty or fifty simple buildings dotted about, built upon the remnants of old stone foundations, some buildings quite clearly a lot newer than others. “My friends,” begins Sildar, “let us secure lodgings. I hear the local inn is very quaint.”

After a brief stop at Barthen’s Provisions, the store the cart was destined for, and an enquiry about selling spirit water by Thespus, who was asked to come back the next day, for confirmation by the town’s priestess, the party continued to the inn, to spend their pay.

 After swiftly securing their rooms, Sildar asked the group to meet him at the townmaster’s office at noon the next day, and Slagathor proceeded to his room groggily to sleep, while the dwarf, who was surprisingly sobered up by this point, did the same. Vanar remained in the bar with Galion, talking over the events of the past day, while Mytar, surprisingly, was nowhere to be found. Galion expressed his interest in the frog statuette, and wished to study it overnight, so Vanar obliged, and Galion left the bar to study the object. Vanar was just about to head to bed when he was approached by a woman, her face darkened by her hood. “Objects such as that should not be shown in a place as public as this. For an adventurer you sure are stupid. Come, we need to speak privately.” Vanar was slightly taken aback by this woman, but agreed, his curiosity outweighing his yawns.

She led him to a small building in the south of the town, unlocked the door and ushered him in. The woman hastily locked the door behind them and turned to Vanar. “What do you think you’re doing flinging an artifact like that around willy nilly?” she hissed. “Anyone could have been watching! Even in a town like this one you cannot tell who is who!”

“I didn’t reali-,” began Vanar before being interrupted again, “No. You didn’t. Now, don’t do it again. I do have a proposition for someone of your...talents. You and your friends are obviously new to town, adventurers, combat ready, curious and foolhardy. The only way you could make that anymore painfully obvious if you walked around with signs around your necks.” Again Vanar was rather bewildered by her throwing around accusations like that at him and his friends, but let her continue nonetheless. “I have a contract for you and your buddies. Deal to the Redbrands leader, Glasstaff. You will get a few gold pieces out of it, and be the heroes of the town. They’re a menace, but without him, they will disband.” Vanar pondered the deal for a moment, “I’ll have to talk to my friends, but I would be willing to take the offer now, as it stands, as far as I’ve heard they’re dangerous and unlawful, but the decision isn’t solely mine.”

“I understand. An hour before dawn, return here with the others, and I will give you more specifics,” she replied before letting him out. Vanar turned, “I didn’t catch your name.”

“No. You didn’t,” and the door closed behind him, clicking locked.

Meanwhile, back at the inn, the halfling, the noble and the dwarf slept heavily, while Galion sat up, as the small desk in the room, study this artifact before him. He used his magic, and was awake most of the night before discovering what it did. It was a driftglobe, in the shape of a frog. Of course! While normally they were orbs, this one was a frog, but did the same thing. A command word allowed it to begin to shine, and the other allowed its movement, however, instead of floating like most orbs, it instead began to hop around, like a frog. Most peculiar, but in respect, not overly important how it moved, as it was still a driftglobe, effectively.

A knock was present at each of the doors, and to each of them was standing Vanar, who asked if they were willing to help him. All said yes, apart from the halfling who groggily told him to buzz off and returned to bed. The other four proceeded to the building where Vanar led them, where they were let in by the same woman who had spoken to Vanar previously. “So, have you agreed to the contract?” she asked. “Yes, if we can help, we will, in any way we can.”

“Good. Now the Redbrands frequent a bar, named the Sleeping Giant tap house, on the eastern side of town. I am unsure where their hideout is, but I’m sure you could find one of them to interrogate. I will give you one-hundred gold pieces if you do this for me.”

“Might we grab your name before we depart?” asked Vanar. “No, you may not,” The woman replied curtly, and sent the group away.

The party caught a few winks of sleep before the next morning, where they began with breakfast, and split into pairs to go about their business. Slagathor continued his slumber, and Mytar had disappeared, while Vanar and Ragnar visited the blacksmith and Galion and Thespus went to sell the ‘spirit water’, Galion tagging along so he could speak to Sister Garaele. The latter pair arrived at Barthen’s provisions, barely before the priestess. They were both in awe at the presence of the priestess when walked through the door. She was a young, blonde elf who was extraordinarily pretty (barely one hundred, reasoned Galion). She glided over to the barrel to inspect the contents, as directed by Barthen. She shot a puzzled glance towards Thespus and Galion. “Where did you find this?”

“In a cave just east of here, goblins had dammed it up, but I don’t think they realised what it was exactly,” replied the pair. “It is legitimate,” she said as she turned to Barthen. “And it will heal those who drink it.”

“I’ll take it for 125 gold pieces,” Barthen offered Thespus. The reply was almost immediate, “Sold!”

Galion turned to Sister Garaele, “Sister, I have a question I must ask you,” he began in Elvish. She raised an eyebrow at him. “There a shrine, not far from here, which has been desecrated by goblins, and I need to find it. I know only that it is in Cragmaw Castle, but I know not the location. Have you any idea where I might find it?” She watched him curiously before replying. “I am unsure, I am sorry. However, follow the Triboar trail east, to Conyberry. I have heard of a banshee making its home in the ruins of the town. If you offer her something of value she will answer any one question you might ask her. I apologise for not being able to help further.” She nodded the men a farewell, and left the building. The party regrouped at the Townmaster’s Hall, where Galion and Thespus noticed the new longsword at Vanar’s belt, and the maul strapped to Ragnar’s back. “You like?” chuckled the dwarf.

Before any reply could be made, Sildar approached the party. “Come now, we have no time to waste,” and chaperoned them inside. He took them to a short, well-fed man, who was dressed well, much more so than anyone else in the town. “My friends, this is Townmaster Wester. Townmaster, this is Vanar, Ragnar, Thespus and Galion.”

“Well met,” began the Townmaster and he shook each of the group’s hands. “Now, Sildar, why did you bring us all here?” he continued. “You know exactly why, Townmaster,” he replied with a hint of venom in his voice. “The Redbrands are-,” began Sildar. “Just a group of mercenaries, who really are no trouble,” finished Wester, with a glare at Sildar. “No trouble? So bullying the locals into submission, and forcing them to pay for protection they don’t want is no trouble?” Sildar growled angrily. The party watched in interest, as this was beginning to escalate. “Where’s the popcorn?” whispered Ragnar. “The hell’s popcorn?” replied Galion. “Damn it Harbin! You fat, pompous fool!” yelled Sildar. He glared at the group. “Come,” he said sternly, marching them out of the hall.

“One of my close friends has gone missing of late, Iarno. I fear the Redbrands had something to do with his disappearance. I want you to look into the matter. I have pressing…issues…to attend to,” he said glaring angrily in the direction of the Townmaster’s Hall, before marching off without another word. The group shot wary sideways glances at each other, “Should we make for the Sleeping Giant tap house then?”

The ramshackle taproom on the east of town had four ruffians lingering on the porch, perched on empty ale barrels or leaning against the wall, all had scarlet red cloaks, sullen stares fixed on the group. One of them spat on the ground. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he growled. “Here’s a whole pack of little puppies come to bark at us,” he chuckled huskily, and grins spread across the other men there. “Ha! Good one!” replied Ragnar, and all of the grins vanished. The foremost thug stepped forward. “I reckon you should leave, puppy,” he spat, jabbing Ragnar with a finger. “Touch me again with that dirty bloody hand of yours and I’ll break your leg,” remarked the dwarf. The ruffian laughed aloud and jabbed Ragnar again. “I warned you.” The dwarf was very quick, and no one really saw it, but within the next few seconds, Ragnar was on top of the ruffian, and the ruffian’s left leg was bent backwards, the snapped bone sticking out through the skin. Two of the thugs rushed forward to help their downed comrade, to be met by Thespus and his mighty swings, Galion stood back and the last thug threw his mug at Vanar, who promptly caught it and hurled it back. Ragnar left the man on the ground and turned to his new assailant, while Thespus grabbed one of the men by the neck and shoved him up against the wall, beginning to choke him out. Ragnar was busy attempting to break the legs of his combatant, and the cutlery fight stopped as the ruffian tried to free his friend from Thespus’s grasp. Vanar ran forward and pulled him off, threw him to the ground, and held his blade to the man’s neck. Ragnar, now having broken this poor man’s leg also, was on top of him, interrogating him, while Thespus did the same to his opponent after letting him fall to a sitting position and putting his boot on his chest. They all got the same answer to the question the asked about the hideout. “Tresendar Manor, the run down manor on the hill, just please, don’t kill us!” The group knocked the Redbrands out, and made their way up to the ruins of the manor, to see what mysteries awaited them there.

Session 2: The Cave

His breathing stopped. Blood pooled on the ground, the dirt fast turning slick to mud. The wound in Ragnar's side was not closing, and no amount of pressure stopped the flow of life from his body. The party sat in silence as they saw the worst result happen for their fallen comrade. Then, a spectacular bright light, fading through all colours of the rainbow, and what appeared to be a translucent blank scroll appeared and unwrapped from him, before disappearing nearly as quickly. Ragnar's eyelid's fluttered open and he coughed the liquid from his lungs. He sat up out of the ichor-ridden dirt painfully, and with help up from his friends, managed their way back to the cart. After noticing a large fallen tree slightly off the road, the party decided it would be worthwhile to make camp for the night behind it, so that everyone could get some rest and recover, before venturing into the cave. If it was true that their employer's were captured, they might be in there, and there was no way the party was going to go through this without any chance at payment.

Twelve hours later the party had fully recovered, with no issues during the night. They swiftly made their way back toward the cave, with the exception of Mytar, who remained with Jurgen and the cart. Again, they passed the pit of spikes, however there was no body to found. A brief moment of engineering, and the party had created a small trap, to prevent anything from exiting the small cave at the bottom.

They continued to the cave mouth, and found that all of the bodies had been removed from the area, however there were no sentries, and the cave was eerily quiet. The party cautiously moved into the cave, though it was dark, and half of the party couldn't see, a lit torch prevented stealth from being an option. The first chamber the group encountered was empty, bar a few beds made of matted fur and straw, encircling a stalagmite in the middle of the room, with three iron rings attached to it. Any attempt at searching was in vain, and nought was discovered among the beds or anywhere else in the room. They continued forth, and the light illuminated a rickety wooden bridge twenty feet above them. They heard a high, raspy little voice shout in goblin (which Galion translated to 'Release the dam!!') and the sound of rushing water filled the cavern. A wall of water rushed down, passing beneath the bridge and toward the party. Vanar fled and dived into the nearby cavern they had recently explored, while the water flooded forth to buffet the rest of the party. Thespus and Galion withstood the force of the water, while Slagathor and Ragnar were flung from their feet and washed out of the cave. They dragged themselves out of the stream (now almost a river) and lay on the ground briefly, chests heaving. Galion, unimpressed now with the soaked state of his robes, prestidigitated the water away, and was much more pleased with his dried clothing, while the two humans were now blind. another torch was lit, and a javelin and arrow from Thespus and Vanar in unison dealt with the goblin on the bridge. Slagathor and Thespus decided it would be worthwhile to explore a newly discovered side tunnel over the other side of the river, up a steep path of single and ledges. They managed their way up and with a brilliant piece of stealth by Slagathor, managed to prevent the heavily armoured noble from being heard. The rest of the party waited below for them to return. This cavern opened up into a massive area, a fire pit in one corner surrounded by five goblins, and one which looked rather similar to the one who had owned the wolves the previous day. The two decided very quickly that this would not be safe with only the two of them, and Thespus retreated back down the shingle, while Slagathor continued around the cave branch to the right of them, which curved back to the bridge.

The halfling crossed the bridge,a candle in hand for light, to scout ahead of the party. As a swift escape route he decided it would be worthwhile to drop a rope off of the bridge, but wasn't so wise as to realise the iron piton he was hammering into the wall would echo through the cave. He had his escape set up, when he heard the sound of a pair of goblins making their way toward him. He dropped down, swinging under the bridge, and holding onto the wall, to hide from the goblins. He was watching above him, the candle snuffed, and he heard the creaking and squabbling of the goblins directly above him. He felt a tug on the rope, and he tugged back, harder, and the goblin stumbled off the bridge, headfirst, and the disturbing crack of goblin skull filled the cavern. This alerted the other to the presence of intruders, and as he was about to yell, another javelin/arrow unison attack from the humans dropped the goblin too. Slagathor then tried to climb up onto the bottom of the bridge by leaping from the wall, and missed, plummeting twenty feet to the cavern floor, winded and in pain. Vanar ran to his side, thankfully Slagathor was still concious, but barely. The group again heard the sound of rushing water fill the cavern, and they knew exactly what was coming. Thespus ducked back into the shingle path, while Vanar reacted swiftly to grab onto the rope beside him, however could not grab onto the halfling at the same time, who was washed out again. Ragnar resisted the flow of water this time, as did Galion. Thespus looked out of his cavern, and had to make the swift decision between the halfling and his javelin, floating past in the body of a goblin. Naturally he picked the weapon over the rogue, who continued out of the cave, where he crawled out and collapsed on the ground beside the stream.

Three goblins took their places atop the bridge, arrows notched and bows drawn, aimed at the party. However, a well-placed arrow from Vanar sliced once of the ropes at the bottom of the bridge, and it collapsed, hanging now vertically, the goblins hanging onto the planks, barely. Galion saw his opportunity and took it, fire sprouting from his fingers, swamping the bridge and the goblins, turning them to a crisp, and the bridge began to smoulder. More goblins charged from around the corner, and above the party, in the cavern that the bridge once lead to, a large hairy goblinoid stood with a wolf at his side. Another blast of fire from Galion dealt with the charging goblins, and an arrow from Vanar sunk into the side of the wolf. It then dived onto the bowman, and sunk its teeth into his shoulder, while the larger enemy swung down the rope, landing menacingly in front of Vanar.
Thespus thought this a good time to try and get the advantage against the enemy, and moved up the shingle path, to try and flank them, though tripped at the top, and landed at the feet of 2 goblins and the armored goblin, who had Sildar in his grasp and a spear at his neck. 'Deal or he dead!'

Vanar and the bugbear tussled, greatsword swinging and colliding with the mace, slashing and bludgeoning each other alike, while Ragnar dealt to the wolf swiftly with his war-hammer and Galion hammered the wall with his rays of frost.

Thespus twirled upward, slicing open one of goblins, and the armored one plunged his spear into Sildar, tossing him aside. Thespus laughed off the other goblins blade, and charged forward, grappling with the armored goblin, and thrusting him into the fire pit, burning him, holding him down, and killing him very quickly. The human rushed to Sildar's side to attempt to stabilise him, while the goblin rushed out of the cave to where he though safety was.

The goblin rushed out, hoping to cross the bridge to Klaarg for protection, but came to a burning bridge, goblinoid bodies littering the floor, and his leader among them. He barely had time to soil himself before an arrow, and a ray of frost hit him in the chest, followed swiftly by a hand-axe. The party regrouped, and they explored the rest of the cave, coming across the cavern which they assumed the bugbear stayed. It was filled with crates and barrels in poor condition, with a blue lion painted on them, and a chest, filled with treasure. The group grabbed some rations, the treasure and some healing supplies, and rested in the safety of the cave, hoping to find out what happened when Sildar regained conciousness.

Session 1: Goblin Ambush

Our party of enthusiastic adventurers found themselves on a caravan headed to Phandalin drivcen by a cheery yet unkempt man named Jurgen, hired by the dwarven miner Gundren Rockseeker and his close associate Sildar Hallwinter. They were to escort the cart to Phandalin and protect it from anything that might be willing to take the goods, as the Triboar Trail is not the safest place in the Sword Coast. The southern regions of Neverwinter Wood crawl with beasts and monsters (and goblins).

After travelling for half a day, the party rounded a bend and saw a pair of dead horses a hundred feet in front of them. While no one could pick exactly what had killed them from this distance, they did indeed recognise the two as the horses Gundren and Sildar had been riding when they had rode ahead of the party. The party's suspicions were rewarded when Mytar spotted a small humanoid shape waiting in the underbrush. After a brief presdigitation of a banshee's wail, the creature dashed out of the vegetation, crying for its life. A goblin. It was shortly followed by another 5, their cover obviously blown. Four of them drew their bows back, arrows notched, whilst another drew his shortsword and the last continued to panic. Mytar was first to react, dancing forth and attempting to stick one of the goblins with his rapier. Thespus was next, charging forward, swinging his greataxe, hacking into one of the bowmen (bowgoblins?) and slicing open a decent gash across its chest, dropping it to the ground. Ragnar also charged forth, warhammer raised, while Galion threw motes of fire unto the goblins and Vanar rained arrows upon them. The goblins managed to sneak a couple of slices into Mytar, forcing his swift retreat, while Ragnar and Thespus fended off the remaining goblins. Few goblins remained, stuck with arrows, crushed bones and one sliced in half by a greataxe, when Thespus barely deflected a swing from one of the final goblin blades. He saw the opening in his defences, and expected a blade to cut into his side. Much to his surprise, the goblin stood still, upright, with a blade protruding from his chest. As it collapsed, he saw the small shape of Slagathor look up at him. He looked at his blade in minor disgust, 'Goblins.'

It was at this stage, the party turned to notice that Jurgen was in the process of being dragged away by a big, hairy goblinoid. Vanar and Thespus reacted swiftly and delivered a couple of cuts to the creature, forcing the release of Jurgen, sending it dashing into the forest. Part-way in, he held his head, damaged by a few uttered words by Mytar, but continued to flee. As he was almost out of view, Vanar fired an arrow his way, which struck true, and the creature collapsed out of sight. Mytar, Vanar and Thespus acted to find the body of this creature, while the others stayed to comfort Jurgen after his near-abduction.

The pursuit group moved toward where the large enemy fell, and found his body in the bottom of a spike-pit, 10 ft deep. After some knots around a tree with a rope, Vanar made his way into the pit. However, the knot was not quite as good as expected, and he fell the last five feet, barely missing some of the sharpened sticks that protruded from the bottom of the pit. He examined the body of the creature, finding little but a few pieces of copper, and a morning star. However, the morning star was not of goblinoid make, but as if it had been made by a blacksmith, a shop-worthy weapon. Not only this, there was a small tunnel carved into one of the sides of the pit, however was dark upon closer examination. With this in mind, Vanar climbed out of the pit and explained his suspicions to the others with him. As they looked back the way they came, the noticed the semblance of a path back toward the road. There was a slight track where they were. Thespus wished to scout ahead, while Mytar wished to inspect this tunnel. Vanar stayed with Mytar before they were to go grab the rest of the group. The gnome climbed down into the pit, and deactivated it's danger by removing the spikes from the ground. He crawled slightly into the hole and threw a lit torch down to see if there was anything that would react to it in the small cavern that opened up. As the torch rolled in, there was a tremendous hiss, and a thick, serpentine shape slithered over to the torch and put it out. Mytar stayed in that pit for exactly another three seconds.

Thespus's scouting proved worthwhile, though with the amount of clanging and clinking from his chainmail, stealth proved ineffective. He saw a small cave ahead of him, with a stream leading out of it, and heavy vegetation over the far side of the stream. From which he barely spotted two goblins as they fired arrows, which Thespus laughed at as they deflected off of his armour. He meandered over to the two, now nervous goblins and hacked into them as easy as one possibly can. The rest of the party arrived, to see Thespus standing in a pool of goblin blood, with the bodies of two goblins at his feet.

As they were about to question it, the party turned to see a heavily armoured goblin with three wolves on chains in one hand, and a spear in the other. The party realised this was not going to be easy, so Thespus and Ragnar strode to take the enemies head on, while Vanar and Slagathor were to stick them with arrows, and Galion use his magics in support. The wolves were released and immediately began to attack Ragnar, one he fended off with his shield, while the other tore into his side and the goblin plunged his spear into the dwarf's chest. The dwarf dropped to the ground almost immediately. Arrows rained on the enemies, as did magic, dropping two of the wolves, while Thespus was taking heavy damage, resulting in his lack of conciousness also. The magic and arrows however defeated and damaged the final enemies, and the goblin retreated back into the cave, while the party tried to stabilise their comrades. Thespus survived, but it was unclear whether Ragnar was to survive. He had lost a lot of blood, and he was going pale. His breathing was non-existent, and he did not stir. The group feared the worst.

Introductions

Hello everyone!

The campaign I am currently running is the Lost Mines of Phandelver, by Wizards of the Coast (NOTE: All content involved with and referencing to The Lost Mines of Phandelver is owned explicitly by Wizards of the Coast, please don't sue me). In this post I will introduce my characters and my campaign, then the real fun will begin in the next post. I decided to use the pregenerated character sheets for most of the characters, though one of my players had already created an absolutely fascinating character which I was more than happy to comply with (I will get to the characters in a moment). I know is isn't normal for most Dungeon Masters to use pregenerated characters, but I wanted to experiment. I wanted to give the players a structure to work off of, a guideline, but let them build who their character was. I gave them the background, class and race, and they determined their characters personality, and actions. This, I believe, is a very good exercise for not only new players and DMs, but also generally new groups. No matter how experienced a DM or player you are, stepping outside of your comfort zone into a class or character type that you've never played before is brilliant for you. You learn to be a lot more diverse, and to appreciate the other classes. You begin to feel for your character and you role-play a lot better, as you have to thin about your character's reaction, instead of using your default role. As a person, I am a big fan of the role-playing aspect of D&D, thus I will role-play if I play, and I reward it in my own campaigns. 

Now, to the characters:

    

1. Firstly we have Thespus Corlynn, a human fighter, played by Jordan. Being the son of count and countess of Corlynn Hill, Thespus is no stranger to wealth, power and privilege. He was born in a large estate in the hills northeast of Neverwinter, however when Mount Hotenow erupted, Corlinn Hill was wiped from the map. Instead of growing up in his parents estate, he was raised in a small comfortable town house in Neverwinter. As an adult, he stands to inherit a meaningless title and little else. Thus, Thespus wants to build a legacy, something worthy of his title, something worth ruling. He plans to attempt to civilise the small hamlet of Phandalin which orcs sacked many a century ago, however has never been able to rebuild itself to worthwhile town. Phandalin needs someone to take the reins, to bring law and order. Someone like Thespus Corlynn.

2. Secondly, we have Vanar Weatherwood, a human fighter, played by Jackson. Vanar's parents lived in the prosperous village of Thundertree, east of Neverwinter and bordering Neverwinter Wood. He doesn't recall much of Thundertree, as his parents fled with him in his infancy when Mount Hotenow erupted. Vanar has never been much more than a labourer or servant, finding work where he could. The last few years had been spent at Neverwinter as a porter and labourer at the city docks, however it became clear to him and everyone about him that he is destined for so much more, when he stood up against an abusive ship captain, and all the other dockworkers began to look up to him. He was destined for so much more. One day he will drive off the dragon that inhabits Thundertree, he will make it inhabitable. He will be a hero.

 

3. Third is Ragnar Rockseeker a dwarven paladin (yes this has been altered form the starter set), played by Matt. Ragnar was trained as a soldier on the island of Mintarn. He was hired into a mercenary company, and travelled to Neverwinter to serve as both army and city watch. However he grew disillusioned with his fellow soldiers, who seemed to enjoy their authority at the expense of those they were supposed to protect. He was recently suspended from active duty, after disobeying an order to get a job done, however he retained his rank and connection to the Mintarn Mercenaries. Since, Ragnar has devoted himself to Oghma. He plans on making his way to Phandalin to deal to a group of local thugs that are bullying the town, and need to be taught a lesson. Putting a stop to their villainy is certainly a worthy goal for Ragnar, and he plans on achieving it. 

  

4. Fourth is Slagathor Lovelock, a halfling thief, played by Theo. Slagathor was originally drawn to Phandalin after hearing stories of it's history, and the gold and platinum that inhabit the foothills surrounding from the centuries before. He was not looking to earn a living, but instead to prey on those who struck it rich. Slagathor joined the local gang, the Redbrands, and made some decent coin as an enforcer, burglar and fence. However, he must have made an enemy among the Redbrands. Someone set him up. On the word of the leader of the Redbrands, a wizard named Glasstaff, Slagathor was to be killed. He escaped, barely alive, and thanking Tymora for his good luck. He left Phandalin penniless and with only the tools of the trade. But Slagathor is back, and he's looking to exact his vengeance on those responsible for his attempted murder.

   

5. Fifth is Galion Talari, an elven wizard, played by James. Galion has spent his entire life devoted to Oghma, the all-seeing god of knowledge. Through visions delivered to him in his trances, it seems Oghma has called Galion to a new mission. A goblin tribe has made their home in an ancient ruin, called Cragmaw Castle, where they have defiled a shrine to Oghma in favour of their vile god Maglubiyet. Such an insult to Oghma cannot be left unpunished, and thus, Galion seeks to clear the goblins and reconsecrate the shrine. Maybe Oghma will have something greater in store for him if he can complete this quest. Galion sure hopes so.

6. Last, but definitely not least, is Mytar Goldwynsson, a gnome played by Will. No one knows exactly who Mytar is, much less his past, but rumours swirl on the wind of his previous escapades and history. Some say he is a travelling minstrel, with the ability to appear and disappear at will, while some others claim he is a wizard who can summon a Tarrasque as a companion, or a cleric of a long forgotten deity, possibly even the deity himself reincarnated. The people that speak these whispers and talk these rumours, or rather should I say, the person that speaks them, is indeed Mytar himself. While it is true no one knows who he is, or what he's doing (himself included) he is here, and he is indeed, one not defined by his past.

This, ladies and gentlemen (and possibly fiends, fey and all in between), is the cast for the beginning of the campaign. I hope you all enjoy your adventures through the world that is Dungeons and Dragons with Jordan, Jackson, Matt, Theo, James, Will and I as much as I am looking forward to sharing them with you all.

Happy adventuring,
~Aidan

Greetings to all internet-dwellers out there. My friend (who shall be known only as Clayst) has convinced me to write a blog on the events that unfold during the many sessions of Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition that I run. Hence, here I am, and hopefully you might be able to attend our exciting ventures with us. Enjoy!