(I guess this kitty is not meant to go on tall trees.)

The party sets forth again.  The forest feels brighter today, though the air is still crisp and cool.  Small birds flit between the scrub oak and fir trees and their songs fill are audible even when they are unseen.  

Droop continues to zig zag her way through the forest in a generally northern direction.

T'laren sticks close to the front of the pack.  Occasionally he calls a likely rock to Droop's attention, but after inspection she rules them all out.

Too big.

Too grey.

Too tilty-overy.

Droknin meanwhile ranges farther afield in front of the group.  He doesn't come across any rocks that fit Droop's description.  He does, however, hear an odd 'knock' sound.  Approaching, he enters a clearing to see a half-orc lumberjack in hide overalls and a checkered cloth coat.  The 'knock' sound was him scoring trees in an 'X' pattern with a machete.  He sees the leonin emerge from the wood.

"Levistus' frozen knuckles!  A manticore!" the man cries in terror.  He drops his machete and runs wildly off to the north, shouting in for aid.

[The rest of the party doesn't see this, but is close enough to hear the cry in an unfamiliar voice and the sound of someone crashing away through the forest.]

T'laren makes use of his elven speed through the woods and ranges ahead in the direction of the clearing, bow out and arrow nocked.

Garrin just sticks with Droop, his short legs not looking to carry far or fast. 

Keashirryl dashes towards the voice as fast as her armour and equipment allows. Knowing that two of their companions were scouting ahead, she worries that at least one of them will get involved. Or, at least, this is the closest explanation she could find to justify why she is running towards trouble, not away from it.

As soon as she arrives to the clearing, she looks around then up, trying to spot the source of danger. 

"A Manticore?" A surprised Droknin holds Talon with both paws, and he looks around for danger. "Where? Wait a moment..." It takes a moment to dawn on him. "Hey!! I am not a monster!! If that is what you are referring to!" He follows the Half-Orc.

Droknin and T'laren are out ahead, with Keashirryl close behind and Garrin and Droop much further back.

The three in front emerge into a working lumbercamp at roughly the same time.  The half-orc startled by Droknin is running hell-bent towards a log cabin.  "Monster!  Run for your lives!"

All eyes in the camp have turned to look.  There are half a dozen human men and a handful of dwarves.  Some were in the process of dragging and stacking short white pine trunks to be loaded onto a sled pulled by a pair of mules.  A cook busies himself over a campfire and a rich odor of sizzling bacon fills the air.  None of the others look too alarmed by the man's shouts, but their posture stiffens when Keashirryl, Droknin and T'laren run into the camp.

A bald, heavily muscled human man of perhaps 50 years approaches.  "What's all this about?  There  truly some beast out there?  Or was it you that got Ningus runnin' scared?"

On hearing the shouts of monster, T'laren has his bow pulled back, and is scanning the treeline as he backs up towards Droknin, his echo slightly within the trees off to one side. He cocks an eyebrow at his companion when the bald fellow interjects.

"Ohh. Apologies my good sir." Droknin puts his human sword away. "We seem to be a little bit lost. I believe. Perhaps you may give us some directions? What place is this?"

Keashirryl steps back, trying to seem less intimidating. She slowly puts the puzzle pieces together, and sighs deeply. She looks up at Droknin, trying to see the Leonin as the beast Ningus must have perceived, but fails miserably.

"Haven't seen a beast around, so I suppose it is more of the vivid imagination of your friend that came to this conclusion." She looks around, not quite sure who the name referred to. She strikes a calm, almost lecturing tone. "The rest of us came to help out with a monster that seems not to exist. Whichever of you is Ningus, you should not make a habit of crying wolf. It will hurt you in the long run."

As soon as she says it, she knows it isn't going to get her any friends, but can't take the words back. She was preparing for a fight, and diplomacy was quite a shift in mindset. 

Garrin will bring Droop along to catch up (very unhurried though)

"Harrumph," grunts the bald man.  "Ningus is always jumping at shadows.  A 'Manticore.'  Hah."  He pauses to look at Droknin.  "To be fair to the lad, I would never have guessed Tabaxi came in your size...".

Most of the timber workers continue to watch your group curiously, but a few go back to work.

"Anyhow, you're standing in our logging camp.  Can't say as to why, nor why you're coming in this way from the deep forest.  We don't get many visitors from the forest side... The Neverwinter River is just yonder," he adds, throwing a thumb over his shoulder pointing north.  "We're gathering timber for the city of Neverwinter."

Droknin raises a finger to point out that he's not a Tabaxi, but before he can say anything, the bald human keeps going, and he listens to the description of their current location. "Little Droop." He says once she joins them. "Do you remember passing a river when looking for your big rock?"

While Droknin and Droop discuss their location, Keashirryl wanders to the man preparing food by the campfire and asks if they can get a portion each from whatever is cooking. She lifts her pouch from her belt, signalling that she is willing to pay for it.

As Droop and Garin catch up, the bald man raises an eyebrow.  "More?  The woods are just full of surprises today."

At Droknin's question, Droop shakes her head.  "Nope.  No river near castle.  River doesn't belong here."

The cook looks like he is about to tell you to beat it, Keashirryl, but once he sees coin is involved his demeanor changes.  He says he will need to talk to the camp boss, as he only was cooking enough for the men, but he's sure something can be worked out.

The camp consists of a few log buildings... not much more than four-walled stacks of timber thrown together for shelter.  An open-air pen holds another pair of mules and a draft horse.

"Well. It seems that we have missed your big rock little one." Droknin turns to the bald man. "Apologies for the intrusion my good sir. We are actually looking for a castle. Do you happen to know if there is one nearby?"

"A castle?  Out here?  I think someone's fed you some bad information.  Nothing out here bigger than a hunting lodge for 20 miles in all directions.  This is the deep wood of Neverwinter.  Even if there were a castle out here, it would have to be some spooked-out elven ruin from half 'a thousand years ago."  He thinks.  "I mean, there's the ruins of Thundertree maybe 10 miles to the west, but I don't think they had anything there you could call a castle.  And its a cursed place these days, anyway."

The cook leaves Keashirryl by the fire and goes into one of the log buildings.  He returns a moment later with another man, better dressed than the loggers, with curly red hair and carrying an expression of concern.  If he is put off by Keashirryl's devilish appearance, he shows no sign.  Instead he jumps right into haggling as though she were a common merchant.

"Tibor Wester, camp commandant.  By where are you folk traveling?  I need to get a message down to the village of Phandalin, urgently.  If you will make the run for us, I can give you all the bacon you care to eat."

"We get our supplies from Phandalin, but something happened to this month's load.  It never came in.  I need someone to head down to Phandalin and speak to the townmaster there.  He's my half-brother, Harbin.  Just let him know his porters either flaked out and stole our supplies, or got themselves killed in the forest.  We'll be OK for another week or so, but he needs to get another load out here, pronto."

"If you haven't been to Phandalin, I can give you directions."

Garrin glares at Droop. "Droop... Are you lost or are you playing a game?"

T'laren has relaxed and stowed his arrow, but is letting his companions deal with the folks.

Droop looks wounded at Garrin's accusations.  "Droop not lost!"  She picks up a stick and sketches in the dirt.

"Droop start at Cragmaw Castle in the forest..." she marks an X in the dirt.

"Then bugbears take Droop on long walk South to human town..." she makes a long, wavy line and then puts another X on the other end.

"If human town South of Cragmaw Castle, outside forest..." she says slowly as if talking to a child, "... then Droop lead you North from human town, into forest, to get back to castle.  Castle is North.  We should keep looking."