"I feel we have kicked a hornet's nest here.  But I have got to get some rest.  I fear town might not be that safe at the present, but we need somewhere we can defend and prepare for tomorrow.  I think we can all fell this storm coming in."

Caledon - Sister Gael bows her head. As you move away from the abandoned alcohol, you hear the sound of shuffling feet. A dusty man who looks down on his luck picks up the two flasks. His clothes are suddenly clean, his face washed, and hair combed neatly. He gawks at this minor magic that seems to have lingered on your old items. Perhaps it came from your brush with death, perhaps some holy grace… who can say. The man walks slowly back into the dark, soberly, and glancing after you in wide-eyed wonder. He makes a sign of thanks and seems to grip the flasks, not with greed, but with reverence.

Cressel - Townmaster Wester gives you a look that is half scowl, half hope, but continues on his way. As you begin to make your way to Daran Edermath's home for the night, a flash of red catches your eye. [Perception Check, if you please, goodly wizard]

Nephira - Sister Gael looks after the townmaster. "There are many who feel as you do, but Harbin Wester is a hard-pressed man. He has reason not to take up arms against the Redbrands, but I know he wants to. We can talk about it if you decide to stay and help us. For now, be safe." She makes the sign of Tymora. "And good luck."

At your speech, there is a decided lack of eye contact, though you see several folk straighten their backs and appear a little bolder. No one puts the red caps back on and it may be wondered if people will forget who once wore them. In a town like Phandalin, it seems unlikely.

The Hooded Man sits at his table, the window ajar, pipe in hand and smoking. He raises it in salute. His face and intentions are lost in the shadows. He will be there when you visit again.

Latimer - At your words, you do feel a shift in the weather. The bright moon dims as a dark cloud passes before its face. The trees sway as a sea-born breeze reaches Phandalin. Far off, lightning strikes. The town will be assailed by a storm in an hour and the poetry is not lost on you. 

//

All - You make your way through town quickly, following the landmarks that Daran Edermath had given to Caledon. You find his orchard outside of town, the rows of fruit trees rustling in the whooshing wind of the oncoming storm. 

The Edermath home is squat and wide. Caledon, you see the sigils, the little hidden cues that alert the right sort that this house acts as a smuggler's relay, a place where illegal goods can be handed off to be delivered to the black market or another relay in exchange for a small fee. You imagine the worn barrels of cider with "Edermath Orchard" stamped on their sides have contained much more than cider over the years. 

A knock on the door and Daran appears, lantern upraised and an old battleaxe at the ready.

"Oh! It's you. Come in, come in. I've got soup on the hearth and cider on tap. Help me with these old mattresses, won't you? Ah, there we are. Snug as a mimic in a minecart."

He looks to your wounds. "You'll mend nicely. Just give the healing potion time to restore your strength. I wager you'll all be feeling better by dawn."

The storm arrives, carrying with it a heavy rain, flashes of lightning, and crashes of thunder. You stay warm and dry inside Daran's house. 

Daran tells you of his adventures when he was a young dwarf fighter, serving as a marshal and herald for many years in the lands of the Dragon Coast, far to the southeast. He may or may not have also established a healthy relationship with smugglers he deemed to be of good heart, if not especially lawful. Upon retiring, he returned to the Neverwinter region, to enjoy his twilight years in the hills of his youth and to dabble in good-hearted (if not especially lawful) smuggling. 

He speaks of the Redbrands. The group appeared only recently in Phandalin under the leadership of a mage named "Glasstaff", as you know. 

"I don't know anything about the fellow, exceptin' that he is a cowardly fellow who keeps hidden up at Tresendar Manor doing gods knows what with goods what want liberating." 

He leans forward conspiratorially.

"I hear Linene Graywind, owner of the 'Lionshield Coster', is missing a shipment of uncommonly fine weapons and armor from the city of Yartar. I wager you ten-to-one the Redbrands made that shipment disappear. That or those Cragmaw vermin. If you mean to keep digging round hereabouts, keep an eye out. I'm sure Linene would pay you handsomely for the return of her goods, but… you could also bring them to Old Edermath for a fair price too."

"As for your friends Gundren and Sildar, well, I wish you very best luck in finding them. Gods know this town could use some more investors of good heart like myself."

[Feel free to ask Daran Edermath any questions you may have, otherwise we will long rest and see you all in the morning!]

While the storm rages, Latimer steps outside to watch and contemplate the meaning of life.  "That was a close call. But clearly, I still have business on this plane."

As Daran talks, Latimer listens and considers all he hears.  "That's a lot of bad luck, all likely leading back to these Redbrands.  I fear for the safety of Gundred and Sildar, but I wonder if maybe we should try to visit this Glassstaff fellow."

Listening with rapt attention, he can't help but smile in spite of his weariness. The smile begins to falter at the mention of a mage. "Glasstaff? I do not believe I've heard of them, but a mage with time on their hands can get up to quite a bit of trouble." Almost as an aside to himself, "I wonder what they know."

Nephira, warming herself by the fire, listens to Daran with rapt attention. She regards the group. "We got a goblin clan harassing travelers along the Triboar, organized like they never been before. At the same time we got some spellweaver leading a band of thugs to keep this whole town under his thumb. Lots of unusual attention focused right here in Phandalin. Convienient timing? Or is there some sort of link?"

She looks to Cressel. "You're a spell-slinger... Any idea what might make a little mining town like this such a juicy target for a wizard?"

Caledon feels a wave of satisfaction wash over him when the down on his luck individual gives thanks for the touch of sobriety, he needed a sign and this was certainly it.

At Edermath's farmhouse Caledon shares what he knows about...Wave Echo Cave.

Then after a little friendly banter heads to some much needed rest.  Good night everyone see you in the early morning when we head out to track down Gundren and Sildar (I assume that's the plan still). 

Nephira sharpens her blades as listens to Caledon's explanation. When he concludes, she comments, "If this wizard fella thinks there's still a way to get to the cave, that explains why he's here... Still doesn't tell us who's organizing the goblin clans." Putting her blades away, Nephira reaches up, stretches and starts getting ready for bed. "Well... Maybe we can beat the answer out of 'em when we go back to grab Gundren and Sildar."

"Speaking of which..." she begins, looking around at her companions "Who's got my pay?"

Nodding as Caledon relays the information about Wave Echo Cave, his mind wanders at the prospect of such magical forge.

He jumps as Nephira mentions pay, and gets up to hand the pouch to her. "Here you go!"

Cressel - On your way to Edermath Orchard, you feel a watchful eye on you, but cannot pinpoint from whence it comes. The feeling passes once you are out of town. 

All - Daran sets one last log on the fire, sending a swarm of sparks up the chimney. 

"Your friends are at the mercy of gods-damned goblins. If I were a younger dwarf…" He trails off, hand caressing the haft of his battleaxe.

"But you're the ones taking on the risk. Honestly, I wouldn't blame you in the least if you decide this whole affair is a bit too much and go seek your fortunes elsewhere." 

With a 'good night', Daran retreats to his room and closes the door. 

[LONG REST - You get health points! You get health points!]

In the morning, you are awoken by Daran gingerly sidestepping your mattresses, carrying a pot of water to the hearth. 

"Mornin' folks! I beg your pardon, but there's work needs doing afore you set forth. Help me with these chores and you will be most welcome back this evening."

Would you kindly split a few cords of wood for the fire? You'll find the rough lumber piled by the woodshed. [Athletics Check DC 10, Perception Check]

If you wouldn't mind minding the soup pot, that would be most helpful. I will prepare other dishes, but my Leek & Barley Soup needs constant tending else it burns to the pot. [Performance Check DC 10 or alternative spell, Perception Check]

Would one of you kindly gather a bushel of apples from the orchard? I need to start another keg of cider this afternoon. [Acrobatics (for standing on ladder?) DC 10, Perception Check]

I need someone to check the fence around the orchard for any signs of break, breach, or… well… no, that's it really. [Perception Check DC 10, Perception Check]

Stretching and feeling a bit better after having a nice rest, he perks up at the prospect of repaying Daran's kindness. "Morning! I'd be happy to help! I can check the fence quick as a flash, then help someone gather the apples." He's raring to go, hopping up and down and before waiting for an answer, he bolts out the door and runs along the fence.

“I’d be happy to split wood.”  Caledon heads out to the woodshed finds the axe and sets to work, first he will look for a whetstone & strap put a razor sharp edge on the axe.  Once he gets his rhythm going he’ll go until he’s called for.

Latimer would have preferred to split wood, but seeing Caledon take the lead, he considers the other requests. "How hard can it be to watch soup cook? Happy to help."  

Late to wake and noticing all the other chores are being attended to, Nephira sets out to pick apples. The simple, serene task brings to mind another time of life. At first, this unwelcome recollection feels her with unease.... but then Cressel hops over to assist with the task. When she sees his eager, smiling face, Nephira finds she can't bring herself to be anything but appreciative of the companionship.

Cressel - [In hindsight, I should have made this an Investigation check, but we move on.]

You are no fence expert, but, well, it's a fence. You remove several branches that fell in the storm last night, but otherwise you feel fairly confident the thing will go on standing. A bit wobbly in one place, but it was probably like that before. You prop it up with a few stones, clean it with a bit of magic, and consider it a job well done.

The air is fresh, scented by the apple orchard. From the house comes the scent of breakfast and the sounds of Caledon chopping wood. You are nearly done walking the perimeter when one apple catches your eyes. It twitches. You rub any remaining drowsiness from your eyes and look again. The red apple… ruffles its feathers? 

A small red bird quirks its head at you, giving you a long, long look. It hops back and forth on the branch for a moment before darting down to stand on a fence post beside you. It has strange patterns on its head as if someone has dyed the feathers there intentionally. It does not sing or blink or twitch in fear. It watches you with unnaturally calm eyes. 

[What do you do?]

//

Caledon - The wood was covered and (mostly) avoided the rain last night. Good. Should split cleanly. You find the axe, kept in a waterproof case, atop the wood pile and - sure enough - it needs a quick sharpening.

Daran points you towards the small barn where the fermenting apples are kept. "Small workbench near the back. Excuse the mess. Been meaning to tidy up, but the seasons just fly by."

The barn door opens like the jaws of a beast. It is dark inside. Pungent alcoholic fumes stretch out to greet you. Your hand instinctively touches the pocket where your flasks were only yesterday, but… 

You hold your breath and enter. 

Two large vats fill the space. All the implements of concocting Phandalin's finest cider are staged along the wall. You see well enough, but the smell makes your eyes sting a little. Your upper lip is sweating by the time you reach the workbench in the back of the dark room. You find the whetstone and turn on your heel to leave quickly when something in the clutter catches your eye. 

A shield, old and dusty, is propped up in the corner. A familiar image is painted on its face: the upright, left hand gauntlet bearing the watchful eye of Helm. The scent of fermenting alcohol fades noticeably as you inspect the old shield. There are other markings, but you don't recognize them. Likely some designation of regiment or company. As you gaze into that watchful, steadfast eye, a thought seems to nudge its way into your mind.

"Vigilance, O Watcher. Vigilance and courage."

You dwell on this as you chop wood. [What does Caledon think?] 

Soon, you are called away to breakfast.

//

Latimer - How hard could it be to stir soup? Not hard. How hard could it be to stir soup well? Well… hard to say, as you artfully keep the fragrant dish gently swirling so that not a single grain is lost to the bottom of the pot. 

Daran continues to add ingredients and soon the house is filled with a satisfying aroma. Sweet breads are baked and glazed with honey butter. Dried apple-slices sit in a bowl for anyone to eat. 

As you stir the pot, you think of the last few days, of last night, of the calling winds… they are sobering thoughts. You are drawn from your meditation by a breeze that slips in through the window and toys with the steam rising from the cooking pot, like a lover toying with a strand of hair. 

It passes around you once or twice, gently pulls towards the door impatiently, and then darts up the chimney with a woosh. 

If you didn't know any better, you might imagine the wind to be saying 'good morning'. [This is a weird one, but... Insight Check on the wind]

You feel refreshed and optimistic (if not a little sore from nearly dying) as the others are called in for breakfast.

//

Nephira - Daran points to a dubious looking ladder leaning awkwardly against the house. "It's a terrible bother, but my good ladder was being repaired by Thel Dendrar before he… eh… died horribly. One foot is shorter than the other on this one, so be careful."

You take the ladder and a large wicker basket out into the orchard. 

The ladder is a tricky thing, but you manage to wrangle it well enough to reach the choicest apples. You pick, pick, pick then drop, drop, drop them into the basket below. As you work, you see Cressel inspecting the fence and hear Caledon begin chopping wood. 

A breeze stirs the leaves. The sun is warm. Birds and bees come and go around you. 

You remember another time picking apples, in a wild orchard, on a sunnier day, when Maila had brought you to that secret place only a ranger knew how to find. You sway with the breeze, lost in memory… a moment too long! You begin to lose balance when Cressel's hand steadies the ladder. 

You share a smile. 

The bushel is soon gathered and delivered to the barn. 

Breakfast is served. 

//

All - Breakfast is a serious affair. As you eat, Daran thanks you.  

"I appreciate the help, folks. You've saved this old back of mine for another day. Here, I've packed you all lunches [+1 Ration/character]. I don't expect I will see you until sometime tomorrow evening, if all goes well," he says a little doubtfully. 

"So…" he says, rising. "What's your plan? Goblins, Glasstaff, or... something else?"

[What would you all like to do first?]

"Goblins." Says Nephira, licking her fingers from the delicious breakfast. "This Glasstaff fella ain't goin' nowhere, but time's running out for Gundren and Sildar. Was a big enough risk tarrying here. I'm not about to leave them to whatever fate the Cragmaws have in mind."

Caledon's thoughts focus on the task at hand Gundren and Sildar are good people who should not be at the mercy of Cragmaw or any other goblins.  "Daran I noticed there was a Watcher's Shield in the barn, to be honest I felt drawn to it.  Did you stand Watch sir, is it yours?  I can't thank you enough for your hospitality, the food and accommodations are truly wonderful.  Being that we are squared off against what could be a long drawn out battle to find and free our employers, and liberate the town from this Glasstaff despot could we make an arrangement for your Shield.  I just can't help but feel it would be put to good and proper use in the days ahead."  As he is making his request he is donning his armor when he gets to his own shield he looks at it... this has been my defender since youth.  It is a small round heavily used beginner's shield.  A memory of his adoptive father figure Jared telling him, "You need this more than it needs you so take care of it, it should last till you can afford a little better."  comes to mind, that was many years ago.  He leaves it where it sits for now.

Caledon - [Roll Persuasion Check]

Satisfied that he's done all that he can with the fence, he spots the apple/red bird and looks a bit closer. He notices the strange markings on it, and takes a moment to sketch it. As he does, he absentmindedly talks to it. "Hello there little bird. Aren't you a pretty one. Where did you get those markings?" Once finished, he'll take a nut from his rations and offer it to the bird, then head back to Nephira to help with the ladder and the apples.

Once back inside, he'll nod his head to Daran. "Thank you for the place to stay! Yes, Nephira has the right of it, we need to find Gundren and SIldar." He begins to spiral in his head with the possibilities of what may have happened to them, or is currently happening to them and he shudders.