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.