When Aranea agrees with him, T'laren will accompany her into the temple, leaving the two who took the hardest hits to recover a bit.

He and Neral't move swiftly through the temple, alert for further ghostly activities and returning dragons.

Investigation: 6

 A quick pass turning up nothing, he gives his companion a nod and returns to Droknin and Barkas in the woods.

The farmhouse where you first battled Orcs is two hours walk to the east.  As an alternative, the ruins of Conyberry are only a 15 minute walk north.  As a final option, you could camp in the woods.  Dawn is about 2-3 hours away.

((Conyberry sounds good, especially if we're thinking of coming back to see what's up with the ghosties after we rest.))

Barkas agrees with Conyberry, wanting to get to a place to rest rapidly so that he can bind his wounds.  If all are in agreement, he starts walking that way.

(Conyberry works too.)

The party retreats from the ruins of the monastery north to Conyberry.  There, they find an old stable just off the Triboar Trail that has been fortified and transformed into a semi-defensible shelter.  Large firepits both inside and outside the structure, as well as some discarded bedrolls and debris, proves this campsite has seen frequent use by wagons and travelers passing through this area.

Setting watches, the party settles in to bind their wounds and sleep off the ordeal of the past several days.  

[The party may take a Long Rest.

You also attain Level 5.]

Dawn comes without incident, and then more hours pass while the party continues to rest.  

Near mid-morning, as the party wakens and stretches their bruised limbs, a pair of wagons arrive from the east.  It is a group of Halfling merchants, making for Neverwinter.  They were unaware of the recent Orc troubles on this part of the trail, and have been on edge since passing the frightening scene at the Butterskull ranch this morning.  They are relieved to come across some [relatively] civilized folk and inquire where you are headed, and if you would like to travel with them, at least for a little way?

Aranea wakes and stretches. It takes her a good fifteen minutes to perform her morning ablutions, washing her face and teeth (with powder that can be mixed into a paste, purchased back in Neverwinter), and brushing out her long dark hair. Even on the road, it's important for her to feel clean and put together. She figures it's not as important to the men, but she's a woman, and it's different. She can't wait to find an actual stream or a place to take a bath, but that'll probably have to wait.

When the halflings arrive in a pair of wagons, she is dressed and ready for the day, her rapier hanging at her side and crossbow slung on her back along with her pack. "Are you headed to Phandalin?" Aranea asks them. "Be warned, there are Orcs prowling these woods. Do you have means to defend yourselves?"

Dronin is ready and packed before first light. He checks the bumps on his head from the Ogre's clobbering. "Oh yes, we are responsible for the clearing of Orcs in the area. You are welcome to join us!"

Having been up for a while, T'laren has been quietly working on some arrows, a good number of which he didn't have time to recover after the battle last night. He lets the others take point in conversing with the halflings.

Barkas awakens with a stretch and a bleating noise as he stretches out his dwarven limbs to their full length, and a small toot escapes him.  He sits up busily and rustles around in his pack, sorting items and assessing the container at the bottom of his pack.  “Gotta find some more hops soon, some barley and other odds and ends…” he says to himself.  He looks to see if he packed any coffee for boiling, but is alarmed that there is none.  He starts to build a small campfire to warm up, starts using a small stick to pick his teeth.  Finally, he rustles into his pack and pulls out his star map, setting it on the ground and thinking over events that have occurred.  He uses his hands as protractors, making measurements and peers at his notes, making some additional ones in the margins.  “hmmm… ah yes I see… The lion is growing in stature… but look, the dragon…. overarching it all… mmmmmmm.”  And so forth.  

He looks with a smile at Droknin, saying “Hey big fella.  I’ve figured out a way to make you even larger in battle, even more scary!  Maybe to take on ten ogres!  Hah!”  he smiles and pokes the fire, mumbling to himself, thinking of various stratagems.  

When the halflings arrive, Barkas stands up and walks forward with Droknin and Aranea, adding in “Yeah, and a few less orcs now!”, clapping them on the shoulder.  “C’mon with us.  The more the merrier.  And safer, I spect.  You will have to give us a tale though, of your travels, where you are going, where you have been, et cetera …”

"Make me larger in battle? I am intrigued my friend." Droknin replies to Barkas with a broad smile.

(So, I am double my size, but I only do 1d4 extra damage??)

((My favorite use of it in game was my barbarian getting enlarged then plucking the guard out of the watchtower, tossing him over my shoulder for the rest of the party do deal with while I smashed a hole through the palisade.))

Quote from Spiderwrangler >>

((My favorite use of it in game was my barbarian getting enlarged then plucking the guard out of the watchtower, tossing him over my shoulder for the rest of the party do deal with while I smashed a hole through the palisade.))

(Droknin is salivating at the possibilities... LOL)

The halflings stop to let their horses rest and graze for an hour while your party gets ready.  They have been on the road for weeks, having put out from Everlund, stopping and trading and moving again, with Neverwinter as their eventual destination.  They hadn't planned to stop in Phandalin, but after hearing your tales of danger on the roads, they consider making a detour to stopover there, rather than camping on the road.

[Where to next?  Back to Phandalin?]

(Back to good ol’ Phandalin. Unless we still have things pending.)

((Since they didn't mention seeing the farmer at Butterskull, assuming he's headed to Phandalin too? We didn't do a thorough sweep of the shrine, but after some of our rolls, we may think we did. I'm fine with heading back.))

Barkas bends down, touching 3 rocks and casts magic stone, picking them up afterward and puts them in his pouch.  “Yeah, let’s head back to Phandalin.  I need some supplies and time to brew a new batch.  Shame there wasn’t more on those orcs and ogres, all the gold seemed to be in that bell!  But maybe we get a reward with handling these ambushin orcs when we get back to town..”.  Barkas makes ready to go.

Aranea nods. "Phandalin it is," she says.

While they travel, she spends her time speaking with the halflings and getting to know them a little bit more. She can be quite social when she wants to be, although she is an introvert by nature.

The halflings are thrilled to have you along as what essentially amounts to a free contingent of guards.  They tell Aranea a bit about their travels.  They are traders, more so than merchants, constantly swapping and dealing and trying to come out a little ahead of where they started.  The contents of their wagon have turned over more than once since they left Everlund.  Currently they are carrying several large barrels of salt, 50 lbs of smoked mutton, two crates of assorted gardening tools and the rest of their small wagon is full of hanks of colored yarn.

They are clearly terrified at the prospect of marauding Orc raiders, though they are happy to hear you have seen to thinning the numbers of said Orcs.  They had thought the worst troubles they would face on this trip would have been the zombies.  Half a day east of the Butterskull Ranch, they had been chased by a half dozen undead that had wandered out onto the trail.  Such creatures aren't usually a threat in this area, so it had come at quite a shock.  Luckily, even as slow as their wagon moves, it was still enough to leave the shambling horde of zombies far behind.

The walk back to Phandalin is blissfully uneventful.

As you arrive into town, you see 10 townfolk of varying ages and races practicing with crossbows in the square.  Around the main entrances to town, posters read 'Experienced Dragon Fighter Wanted:  200gp'.

You part ways with the grateful halflings who offer you each 4 lbs of smoked mutton for your trouble [you can each add 2 rations to your packs!].

Visiting Harbin Wester, you report to him on your successful rescue mission and your subsequent sortie against the Orc encampment.  Pleased with the results, he pays you the promised 100gp, along with an additional 36gp that some of the local shopkeepers pitched in.

He is much less enthused to hear about your encounter with the dragon.  "Hrrm.  The beast was flying up and down the valley this morning, roaring and crowing like it was queen of the skies.  We took your suggestion and posted a reward looking for someone willing to defend the town from that monster.  Meanwhile, we looted the armory of those Redbrand mercenaries and supplied some of the townfolk with crossbows.  It might not be much, but if that ugly white dragon comes to make trouble here, perhaps a few dozen bolts in its hide will make it think twice."  His voice betrays a lack of confidence in those words.