LOST MINE OF PHANDELVER

(a play-by-post adventure)

PART ONE

You four have returned to the Fiddlecat Pub and are greeted by the aged human warrior, Sildar Hallwinter. He invites you to join him at a reserved table a little distance from the regulars. You see Gundren Rockseeker is already seated and tucking something back into his cloak. He smiles broadly through his bushy beard.

"Hail and well met again, I daresay," he says warmly. "I am very glad you all accepted my offer. Narrowing down the candidates was not an easy task, I don't mind telling you, but I have a very good feeling that this company at this table will be able to do good things. Now sit! Sit and eat. We have much to discuss." 

The table is laden with a small feast of savory stews, crisp garden greens, stuffed potatoes smothered in butter, fresh bread spread with goodberry jam, and are those sweet rolls? Several fresh candles gleam through the colored bottles of Allsummer Ale, Owlbear Claws (a fruit-flavored bubbly sort of drink), rose-wine, and water so cold it's almost ice. 

Gundren hands his already empty dish to a passing barmaid with a smile and says "Excellent as always, Frin; my compliments to Master Droon." He sips his ale, wipes his beard, and gets down to business.

"My friends, as you know, Rockseeker & Co. is launching a private venture from Phandalin, but due to local shortages there, we need to bring our own supplies from here. We have the wagon. We have the cargo. We just need you to ensure its safe delivery to the trading post there called 'Barthen's Provisions'. That is where you will receive your payment. If all goes according to plan, you may take your gold and carry on your way with my blessing."

Gundren leans in close, conspiratorially.

"But if you are keen on being a part of something… truly special… you will have proven to me that you are trustworthy and capable companions. Rockseeker & Co. will need such companions in the days following this delivery. The risks are - regrettably - quite real. Sildar?"

Sildar leans forward, hands folded atop the longsword at his side. His voice is gravelly and deep. 

"There are rumors of bandits along the Triboar Trail. Several merchant wagons failed to get to where they were going. Others made the trip no problem, but plan for blood and don't get bloodied, agreed?" 

"Another thing: Barthen tells in his letters that we can expect to pay some gods-damned protection fee to local thugs who seem to be plaguing Phandalin. They call themselves the Redbrands. Wear red cloaks like some kind of militia. Be prepared for a fight. I want you to cast me into the Nine Hells if I ever give in to daylight robbery."

Gundren picks up the conversation, nodding at Sildar.

"Indeed. But we have a plan: Sildar and I will range ahead tonight under the cover of darkness to secure our lodgings at the Stonehill Inn. We have some business to attend to privately, but we will investigate these thugs to find out what's what. You will arrive sometime near nightfall and together we will clear them out for good."

He looks at each of you seriously. 

"The town's had it rough for a long time now. Rockseeker & Co. aims to make Phandalin a safe, reputable, and profitable place again… and you seem like folk who can help us with that."

He coughs, downs the rest of his ale, and stands. Sildar joins him.

"Sildar and I must be on our way. Again, thank you for your services. May Avandra bring you to good fortune. With a little luck and cunning, we will see you in Phandalin, my friends."

Sildar drops two keys on the table. 

"Get to know each other, but be sure to get a good night's rest. These are your room keys. In the morning, speak with Master Droon, the owner. He has the wagon and provisions locked in his shed in the back alley. Take the High Road south until you reach the Triboar Trail, then head east. You'll reach Phandalin before nightfall. Any last questions?"

“Your expectations are clear, yer warnings are understood, and yer offer to continue on sounds wonderful.  Cheers and good fortune for Rockseeker & Co.”. Says Caledon Flowstone a just over 4’ solid looking dwarf.  He has his backpack full of gear with em an is wearing gray loose clothing with blue leather boots toed with shiny steel.  As he sets his belongings down and grabs a plate, you notice he seems to be counting the bottles and platters, he seems very impressed by the generosity of this spread.

Rapidly scribing everything Gundren and SIldar are saying in an unintelligible series of letters, runes, and icons, sits a small gray-white furred Harengon, with several fresh scars on his head and a hastily bandaged paw. He is wearing simple gray robes whose sleeves have many ink stains on them. Muttering a bit, as if distracted, he responds to Gundren and Sildar, "Yes, yes of course it's all very clear, I'll do whatever is needed to keep your supplies safe, it would be wonderful to continue on with your company!" When he finishes his notes, he carefully rests his quill on top of his book of parchment.

He starts, ears flattening, cerulean blue pupil-less eyes widening, and the quill he just set down begins to spin and float up into the air, as looks up from the book and notices that there are others around him aside from his two employers. "Oh! Hello there! My name is Cressel." He tries to nonchalantly grab the spinning quill out of the air, but he misses several times, before finally getting hold of it and setting it back down. "Ahem, I'm sorry, that doesn't normally happen." Looking a bit ashamed, he delicately puts his book and quill into his backpack. He then takes hold of the flagon of ale in front of him with both paws, taking a long draught. As he sets it down, he wipes his face with one of his ink-stained sleeves. "Oh, oh my, how rude of me... who are you?"

The tall, well-built tiefling sitting at the table remains silent as Gundren makes his pitch. 

Her bright red hair contrasts her soft brown skin and dull yellow eyes. Her two horns are shaved down to stumps. Every once in a while, the other party-members notice her catlike pupils staring back at them appraisingly, without a hint of malice or self-consciousness... like a wild animal surveying another creature. Her armor is motley mix. Parts of it appear to have once been part of a uniformed soldier's gear. However, parts of the armor have been stripped off, modified and festooned with bones and animal hides.

After Gralhund and Sildar make their exit and Cressel introduces himself, her eyes open a bit wider, noticing that attention is on her. "Nephira." She says. "Wilderness guide. I'm to make sure we get from point to point without gettin' lost or held up by any troublemaking beasties. But if it's bandit's we're facing, all the better. Worst sort of vermin there is." With her introduction made, she returns to her meal, allowing her eyes to survey the rest of the room.

A bald man of dark complexion and simple garb sits and listens.  “A fine feast, and a good offer.  I, for one, would be happy to help dissuade these bandits of their ill intentions.  The name is Latimer, and I am happy to meet you all.  Let us eat well, as you never know where your next meal comes from when on the road.”

"Very well. Well, good luck, everyone," Sildar says and - with a nod - steps out into the darkening night. 

The atmosphere in the Fiddlecat Pub is cheery and a little sleepy due to the late hour. A group of minstrels in the opposite corner of the pub shuffle lazily through a set of songs without lyrics, filling the dull drone of conversation with thoughts of home, of heartache, and noble deeds.

The night is yours. 

[OOC: Talk as much or as little as you like. I will progress into the next day on Wednesday unless you all finish up earlier than that. Feel free to ask questions!]

Caledon looks around the table suddenly realizing everyone had given their name with their introductions, except for himself.  Eating the last bite of a third helping of everything stew and grabbing a bottle of Allsummer Ale, he reaches for one of the two room keys, “Well now that was a fine way to begin, ‘burp’ oh excuse me, names Caledon.  So who’s my lucky roommate I’m told I snore just a warning.”  He glances hopefully at Latimer, then Cressel, and Naphira.

Latimer looks around the table at the others, though, and says "Surely we will have more time to speak on the road, but I am curious.  What brought each of you to this job?  For myself, it is simply a step to the next place.  I enjoy the road, or even the wide open sea, and look to broaden my horizons."

Once the meal winds down, and Caledon speaks of bed, Latimer stands and nods, picking up his few belongings. "Right.  A fine meal, an a good night's sleep.  I'll bunk with you, good sir.  I am used to sleeping with a lot of noise, so your snoring will not bother me.  Sleeping blow deck with a full crew during a storm is about as loud a night as you can get, and I have had more than a few of those!"

Eyes widening in surprise again, he looks up at Nephira and audibly gulps. In a squeaky voice, "B-B-Bandits?! Oh dear... not again." He gingerly reaches up to touch the scars on his head, then seems to steel himself a bit. "Ahem, well nothing that can't be handled - ooooh, maybe we'll see some interesting flora and fauna!" He bounces a bit at that prospect, and looks over to Latimer, nodding his head at the sage advice. He looks at the offering of food and makes a plate of vegetables with an invisible mage hand. After finishing the vegetables, he looks at Caledon noticing a bit of food has fallen on his shirt, he wiggles his unbandaged paw, casting prestidigitation to clean it up.

Cocking an ear towards Latimer, "Well, I've read all the interesting books in the library I grew up in, including a few histories of adventurers. After reading those I decided to see the world through my own eyes! I'm running out of money though..." His ears droop for a second. "But then I found this job and was hired! Now I can make some money, and see the world! How can any of you sleep when there's so many things to do and learn?!"

Naphira bites into a potato, eyes still scanning the room as she answers Latimer's question. "Needed work. Not the coin so much. Just somethin' to stay busy."

Her eyes flick to Cressel, baring into him appraisingly as she asks, "You tangled with bandits on your way here? Is that how you got those knicks?"

He answers Nephira as if from a thousand miles away, lost in thought, "Mmhmm, must have been five or six of them. I was sketching this incredible bird, when all of the sudden arrows came flying. I barely got a shield up, but some of them still came through. Next thing I knew three of them were slashing with knifes, one got my paw, so I did the first thing that popped into my head... I sent out an ice knife, which really really scared them and they ran away with their tails between their legs! The worst part is though the bird had flown away."

Caledon listens to Cressel’s account, he gets a smile trying to imagine the encounter.  “Are you fully recovered?  Would you like a bit of healing?  I’m glad your with us Cressel.  I imagine those bandits eyes were pretty surprised to see your knife of ice.”

Shaking his head out of his revelry of the beautiful bird he missed out on sketching... "Oh, no no no, i couldnt impose, thank you though! I had a healer look at it when I first arrived, they took care of it, said a few days of taking it easy should do the trick. Is that what your specialty is Caledon, healing magic?"

"If it comes down to it, I have some abilities to heal your wounds.  Let's hope it doesn't become necessary, though." 

"I'm not a specialist per-say but in the heat of battle I'll be your protecter and if you need it your healer too, never hurts to work as a team.  I'm glad to hear you're good, I'm sure the route to Phandalin will be a pleasant change from the busy streets of Neverwinter.  I'm also glad to hear Latimer that you've got a healer's capabilities, it's always good to have two."  With that Caledon drinks a couple large swallows from his bottle of Allsummer Ale, "Well I'm off to find my rest, till morning good fortunes to us all."

Naphira nods in response to Caledon's farewell, then turns her attention back to Cressel. "Spells or no spells. Surviving a pack of brigands all on your own is no small feat." She offers up her glass. "You have my respect, Master Rabbit." She polishes off her drink and pushes herself to her feet.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna see what I can learn about these freebooters on the Triboar." Without another word, she grabs one more potato for the road and starts making her way around the tavern. She's going to spend as much of the evening as she can trying to utilize local contacts from her "Criminal" Background to gather intel. She'll call it a night before she risks losing any sleep before the day of travel ahead.

Investigation: 18

Smiling at the compliment, toasting with both paws, he'll take a long swig of ale. Bouncing a bit nervously at everyone heading off, he'll turn to Latimer. "You've been on the sea? What's it like? Where'd you travel? What sort of things did you see?"

Naphira - You scrutinize the room until you see a familiar face. There he is, right where he should be; The Hooded Man.

There is one in nearly every pub, tavern, and inn across Faerûn; a figure in a shadowy corner, nursing a pipe and a mug of ale. They know the moods and movements of most criminal groups around and are happy to help certain privileged contacts. You are a privileged contact. Some information requires a little more... encouragement to receive, but you have worked with this particular Hooded Man before. 

The Hooded Man smiles as you sit beside him. When you ask about the troublemakers along the Triboar Trail, he frowns.

"Nasty business down that way, Naph. Several gangs got displaced, but we're not sure how. I can tell you it's none of the regular gangs. Rumor is that it's goblins, but that don't make no sense. Only goblins down that way are the Cragmaw tribe, but they ain't never been able to cause this sort of mischief before. It ain't the Redbrands neither. They definitely can't project that much influence so far from Phandalin. Whatever you find, let me know as soon as you can via the usual channels."

You may sit and talk longer with him, but you get the sense you won't gain any more useful information at this time. 

Naphira's heart-rate quickens at the suggestion of a deeper mystery behind the Triboar bandits... Involving goblins no less... In her experience, where there are goblins there are usually... worse things. This is dangerous. This should concern her... but instead, she can't help but grin.

"Will do. Thanks, mate. I knew you were a better sort than all the rumors say." She says in a ball-busting tone as she stands and looks back, giving the hooded man a friendly wink.

"And here," She says, "For your trouble." She flips a gold coin to the hooded man. As soon as he snatches it out of the air, she points an accusing finger at him. "But don't you go and spend it yet. I'm gonna want it back as soon I return with news about tossin' them gobs down whatever hole they crawled out of... Savvy?"

The Hooded Man smiles grimly. "You make the Triboar Trail safe again for honest working bandits and I'll return this with interest. Good luck, ranger."

//

Caledon & Naphira - You find the rooms easily enough. They are rather stark, but comfortable and the beds are feather down instead of straw, which is welcome. Everything appears alright, so you are soon asleep. The work of the morning is fast approaching.

//

Cressel & Latimer - As you talk into the lengthening night, you notice a stout fellow whom you presume to be Master Droon (the cook and owner) ushering folks out. When he gets to you, he bows and informs you that you may remain as late as you like. 

[OOC: Feel free to do more with this evening, but I will be progressing into the following morning by noon, CST]