Syzygy’s eyes sting from the stench of goblin mess. The sight of the last light soothes them. His knuckles strain under the weight of the old man’s shell in a bedroll, wondering what afterlife they’d meet again. I should have asked if you preferred burial or cremation. 

Eased by the encouragement to step onward, Syzygy responds to Tessa, “The light is welcome.” He slowly lowers and releases his grip of the bedroll, pulling up his own robes preparing to cross the water streaming from the cave mouth.  

The stream is icy as you cross the shallow stream and stand upon the path south. Your feet are wet and cold; the air is cool but refreshing after your time in the goblin cave. Between the combined lifting efforts of Jurgen, Quinn, and Syzygy, the party is more-or-less capable of traveling at nearly normal speed with Sir Roderick on a makeshift bedroll stretcher. Tessa and Sildar are eager to get back to the wagon, risking the trap-strewn goblin path after dark, lit by Tessa's magical light. You still have at least an hour of light left before it becomes completely dark. The weather is clear.

Is everyone following their lead? What's your plan for Sir Roderick?

Jurgen will suggest we bury him in a field near the wagon and the road. He will dig with his dagger and his hands. 

"If you all are fine pushing on, I believe we can make it to the wagon and the trail junction in a few hours. We can figure out a proper burial for our friend once we make it to the wagon. 

We must keep an eye out for more of those goblin traps. Good thing we spotted and disarmed a few on the way in."

He walks over to Tessa and reminds her about the pit trap.

"If you're going to lead the way, keep an eye out for that pit trap we found. I laid out an 'X' on the trail with some branches so it would be easy to spot."

Quinn walks over to the stream. He kneels down, splashes water on his face and washes off the goblin blood and stench the best he can.

The party pushes on, with three of you carrying the body and possessions of the late Sir Roderick back south down the goblin trail, with Tessa lighting and leading the way. The party carefully circumnavigates the traps you found earlier, and finds no more new ones. Twilight fades, but with only a quarter moon and Tessa's arcane tricks to illuminate the path, the party soon reaches their wagon without incident.

They are relieved to discover the wagon still intact where they hid it earlier that day, and the two oxen and the two horses all well, if rather thirsty.

Jurgen realizes that his makeshift digging plan is unnecessary (should they want to move forward with their plan to bury Sir Roderick here) as in addition to a dozen sacks of flour, several casks of salted pork, two kegs of ale, five lanterns, and a small barrel of oil, the wagon's cargo also contains brand-new mining shovels, picks, and crowbars – about a dozen each.

It is now mid-evening, and quite dark. Roderick is yet unburied. The road is empty. What's your plan?

Quinn looks over the oxen and horses. They look thirsty, but otherwise in good health. The group is tired, but if they could just make it to town they could rest up and figure out their next move.

"We're not too far from Phandalin. Now that we're on the road and with the help of the animals, we could be in town by morning. Then we can find a way to properly bury out friend, rest up, resupply and plan our next move.

Sildar and Jurgen, you're both in rough shape. Perhaps you can sleep in the wagon while continue on into town?"

He glances over to Tessa.

"Tessa, how are you holding up? Would you be up for steering the wagon into town? We can use the lanterns to light the way if you drive."

"We press on then." Syzygy goes to work preparing the wagon, making room for an injured acquaintance, and a fallen friend. His head hurts. His knuckles ache. Gundren was good for odd jobs but now he's got Syzygy caught up in something much bigger. 

As Jurgen walks along with the wagon he thinks through the events of the last 24 hours and appears to be fairly introspective but also keeping an eye out for any dangers in the dark. He is coming to peace with his new career and the dangers it presents to himself and others he calls friends. 

Tessa nods and climbs into the driver's seat, tapping some well placed bit of the horses' gear to apply her Light spell. As she drives, she begins chatting with one of the horses about the unique flavor of dewy grass and catches herself suddenly, believing she must have nodded off in the quiet dark and been dreaming, before realizing she had in fact been whinnying away with perfect understanding of the animal. "Oh, sorry..." she apologizes to any humanoid wagonmates who might have been staring.

(Gained Beast Speech invocation at level 2, which does technically require at will casting the spell but was fun to stumble upon this way)

The party moves forward, east on the Triboar Trail. You find nobody on the road. The moon soon sets, slowing your progress further in the thick darkness. The stars, at least, provide a crisp, brilliant display above you. It gets quite cold.

At one point a small bat-like creature quietly swoops in and tries to stealthily attach itself to the back of Tessa's neck, but Quinn is able to successfully shoo it away. (The horrid flying creature looked like a cross between a large bat and an oversized mosquito. Its legs ended in sharp pincers, and it had a long, needle-like proboscis.)

Around midnight they find the southern spur which they are told will take them to the town Phandalin, and take the righthand fork as instructed.

It is still the dead of night, several hours later, when they finally reach Phandalin.

The rutted track emerges from a wooded hillside, where you catch your first glimpse of the town. It consists of forty or fifty simple log buildings, some built on old fieldstone foundations. More old ruins—crumbling stone walls covered in ivy and briars—surround the newer houses and shops, showing how this must have been a much larger town in centuries past. Most of the newer buildings are set on the sides of the cart track, which widens into a muddy main street as it climbs toward a ruined manor house on a hillside at the east side of town.

There are no guards or residents to be seen, and few lights. It is perhaps three hours before sunrise.

Quinn climbs up on the wagon and takes a seat next to Tessa.

"You have a way with horses. You remind me of a Druid I met on my travels. She too had a way with animals. I learned much from her about plants." 

He hears a loud snore from wagon. He looks over his shoulder into the back of the wagon.

"Sildar...Sildar! We've arrived. Where would you like us to take you?"

'Everyone copes in their own way,' Syzygy reminds himself and politely ignores Tessa's horsey throat. He was lost in thought when Quinn announced Phandalin was in sight. Syzygy's senses regained some focus as he listened to see what Sildar, our consolation prize, had to offer. Syzygy admitted to himself that he would settle a place to rest his head.

Sildar awakens. (Nobody has managed a long nor a short rest on this overnight journey, except Sildar, who achieves a Short Rest.)

"Not sure... the inn, I think. I've never been here before..." He's still half-asleep and in poor condition. But he starts to look around, squinting in the pre-dawn darkness.

You pass a wooden sign shaped like a shield, painted with a blue lion, hanging above the door of a trading post. It's the same symbol you saw on many of the goods in Klarg's cave.
Deeper into the center of town, you pass a tidy new structure with some sort of board next to the front door covered with notices.
You pass a town "green" or at least a common space, with a small shrine made of stones at its edge.
And then you see, across from the shrine, a large, newly built roadhouse of fieldstone and rough-hewn timbers. It has a large sign hanging from it, reading "Stonehill Inn".

"Inn," adds Sildar, pointing at the sign above the darkened tavern.

Unless you have any further business in the pre-dawn hours, we will presume you found a spot behind the inn to stash the wagon (and Sir Roderick, under a tarp), and enter the Stonehill Inn.

A young, barely-teenaged boy sleeping on a cot behind a desk awakens as you enter, and helps you make accommodations at the inn. (Rooms cost 1 gold each, and someone will need to volunteer to pay for Sildar's room. He promises to pay you back within a day. Mark your sheets accordingly to account for the gold. The boy's name, you learn, is Pip. His father, he says, is the innkeeper.) And unless you have any early morning business, we will assume that everyone benefits from a Long Rest, awakening late in the morning, nearly noon.

The common room, dark and empty when you arrived, is now filled with locals eating lunch and nursing mugs of ale or cider, all of them eyeing you with curiosity. Outside the bright windows, you can see children playing on the town green, and townsfolk tending to chores or running errands at the shops in town. The inn’s proprietor is a friendly young human man named Toblen Stonehill – he greets you warmly, and offers you a meal. You see a female dwarf in the kitchen, preparing food. Pip is helping her. The common room contains several human and one gnomish customer. "Where you folks from?" asks the gnome, brightly.

You still have a dead man in your cart, and a load of goods to deliver. Sildar departs, saying he needs to meet somebody, and will be back that evening with your pay, and to talk.

Rest was deep but unsettled for Syzygy. In his meditations he endured dream-visions of wolves covered in oily slick black feathers instead of fur. They howled at a Sir Roderick-faced moon. A lone goblin with an elongated head hooted and mocked syzygy who was strung up in a spider’s web. 

Syzygy lets out a quiet and quick gasp as his meditation breaks. The stone welded to his brow, no longer gives off a faint silvery glow but is dull, cold and grey. He sits cross-legged at the end of a bed, belly aching. And with no rations left, he makes his way to the inn’s common room for a feed. “We should eat” he says to anyone that has joined him.  

Syzygy notices eyes following him and his companions. Sometimes one draws less attention to themselves if they play friendly; “We’re on business from Neverwinter” he says truthfully without really answering the gnome’s questions. "Are you local?"

Quinn covered Sildar's tab. And he was sure to take a room next to him so he can keep an eye on him throughout the night. Though that plan didn't go as intended, as he fell hard asleep no sooner than he hit the bed. Quinn is not one to remember many of his dreams. But this night was quite different.

His dreams were full of sorrow, regret and violence. And they were filled with questions of what if. What if he stood by Sir Roderick instead of fetching Klarg's head? Would the outcome have been any different? The death of Sir Roderick weighs heavily on the old ranger.

Per usual, Quinn is up early at the break of dawn. He cracked the door and stepped into the hallway he heard another door close. He greets Syzygy with a half smile and a head nod and followed them down stairs.

As Syzygy talks with the gnome, Quinn eats his meal, sips some piping hot tea and stares off in at nothing. Not one for small talk, Quinn snaps out of his daze and interrupts the conversation.

"Business...yes, we have business to tend to." He stands up abruptly, pushing his chair back forcefully, making a bit of a scene.  "Is there anyone in this town who can help properly bury a fallen friend? If so, point me in the right direction." 

He slings his bow on his back, leaves the payment for his breakfast on the table top and makes for the door. 

"Yes - My name's Freda," replies the gnome to Syzygy. "Cloth, textiles, custom soft goods. If you need anything of this nature, look no further! I don't have my shop open yet, but you can find me here for lunch most days. What business brings you here? You don't look like a miner."

Turning to Quinn, she adds, "You need an undertaker? We could use one of them here, I think. Business opportunity. Or a good carpenter for a casket, maybe? I dunno that anyone's established a proper burial ground here yet. Folks mostly buried out in the hills I guess. There's but one temple in town if you're looking for services or what-have-you – you can see the shrine right there, across the street – dedicated to Tymora, the god of luck and good fortune. Run by Sister Garaele. I think she has a partner now, different sect. Selûne, maybe? Maybe there'll be a second temple soon. If you need pick and shovel, Barthen’s Provisions is the biggest trading post in town. Watch out for anybody with a red cloak, though. The Redbrands hassle every business in town, another reason I'm slow to open my shop. Except for the Miner’s Exchange – I guess they don’t want trouble with Halia Thornton, the owner. That's where you get your finds weighed, measured, and paid out. I gave up mining two months after I got here – I ain't cut out for that work.” She continues to patter on between bites of bread and an enormous bowl of jam as Quinn packs up his gear.

When he hired you, Gundren Rockseeker provided a verbal overview of Phandlin and its locations to you, so you have a rudimentary understanding of Phandalin’s layout. Rockseeker, now evidently held captive by "the Spider" at "Cragmaw Castle", according to Yeemik, was long on vague, contextless descriptions but short on details; nevertheless, some of his information is beginning to come back to some of you. His rushed descriptions can be summarized by this map of the small town:

Kimberly placed away the breakfast things and tidied up her blankets and sleepwear from Garaeles chaise lounge.....in her opinion there was ample enough room in Garaeles bed and its not like anyone else was likely to be sharing it soon but......she let out a little breath and centred herself.

" Not all folks are as easy going as I am. It takes all kinds to make the world."

She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer to Selune, then said her secret prayer silently before going to the door and stepping outside.  She paused for a moment noting there were visitors at the Inn.....sensing an opportunity she fetched a half dozen flyers from her skirt pocket and clutched them in her hand as she walked toward the inn.  

Kimberly flicked her eyes to the shrine pleased to note that the symbols of Selune she had hung beside Tymoras were still in place....Sister Garaeles really had been very accomodating and Kimberly admonished herself for her earlier churlishness.

Holding the flyers clutched in her hand she strode towards the inn, her dark brown leather corset was decorated with pale motifs of Selune contrasting with her own dark skin and braided hair.  Her heavy outer skirt was a grey-blue and had numerous hidden pockets. A silvery mace hung from her wide leather belt and a shield painted with dark female eyes encircled by seven stars.

" Good Morning, Everyone!", she said brightly as she stepped into the inn.

" I trust you slept peacefully under The Ladys watch last night Toblen? Oh! Visitors! How marvellous, Welcome to Phandalin."

" My name is Kimberly Bach, Called of...oh...rather...Touched of The Silver Lady.  How are you all this morning?  May I interest you in the true and blessed teachings of The Moonmaiden?", she said eagerly holding out a number of enscribed scrolls.

Toblen, the proprietor, sighs and puts on a polite smile as he steps toward Kimberly.

"Kimberly, I thought we talked about you not doing this again..." he admonishes quietly through his frozen smile.