After the path gets cleared Nosem feels rather optimistic. Contributing to a group in such a beneficial manner has been such a rare occurrence these past few years; he doesn't want this new feeling to pass just yet. "I know we have a couple of options for what to do now and we have questions that still need answering. Why don't we head to Phandelver, knock back a few, and after a good night sleep we can reconvene tomorrow morn with a plan of attack. Unless I have a change of heart while I'm getting my beauty rest, I'm ready to crack a few skulls."
(ooc: rolled the wrong Charisma check, but kept the score)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Marten nods, "Yup. Finish the first job: get the wagon to Phandalin. Sleep there and head back to the foothills that Berry saw at first light tomorrow. When we find the goblins' hideout, we'll find out what they've done with Gundren Rockseeker and Sildar."
"Yeah, I'm just worried that the goblins might catch up with us, we're very slow and a large target. We best be prepared for an assault. Furthermore, I thought, that the best would have been to lay a counter-ambush for the goblins and in this way reduce their numbers on a terrain of our choosing before entering their lair to rescue Gundren. I imagine that fighting through a well defended goblin lair could be much worse than fighting through one where we removed the stronger individuals beforehand. Well, if most of you want to go back to Phandalin, though, I will accept that."
As the others discuss the group’s next move, Kiselina removes the saddles, tack, saddlebags and bit and bridle from the dead horses. He secures them in the back of the wagon.
He then addresses the group, “Master Berry makes a great point about tactics. Reducing the bandit’s numbers would be beneficial in the long run. The concern is however, there is no guarantee we would be numerically superior even with the gain of surprise by establishing an ambush at a location of our choosing. Coupled that with our depleted resources, spellcasters who are pretty tapped, it would be most prudent to delay contact with the enemy until we are better prepared.”
“I therefore wish to depart (with so many others) and make our way to Barthen’s Provisions to deliver these goods…and secure additional supplies.Apparently I have planned poorly for this trip and am in need of rations.”
Charisma: 8
If the party decides to return to Phandalin, Kiselina then shuffles around 300 lbs of goods to Vidruth’s floating disk. After that, he removes an additional 4 sacks (each about 30lbs) for an addition 120 lbs of gear and secures them to the shaft of his halberd, two sacks on each end. He hefts the gear onto his shoulders, yoke style, and prepares to complete the travel.
(ooc: still not encumbered by this additional load. That also reduces the load on the oxen by over 400 lbs.)
“Well,” Berry grabs his pack and belongings so that the oxen aren’t burdened with it. “I will help pushing the cart when there’s a slope or uneven ground,” he concedes sounding depressed. “I mean, I can’t believe we leave Gundren behind. After all he did for me, I really shouldn’t just leave him there sitting - well that is if he’s lucky - sitting, laying or hanging in that dank goblin dugout. And we have a bath and wash cold ale down our throats before we rest and rescue him like knights in shining armour the next day instead if immediately; unless it’s too late, of course. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if that happens, that I could have rescued him but hesitated. I hope you know what we’re doing,” he says trudging along.
(OOC: looks like the result is clear 5:1 for keep going to Phandalin. He has some 150lbs carrying capacity left, so I suppose he can assist for 300 lbs worth of pushing.)
Nosam situates his pack and prepares for the brisk push ahead. "If any of you need an extra hand I'd be happy to be your pack mule. Hit me with it and lets get going, we have to get back to Gundren sooner rather than later."
ooc// we should have more than enough removed now.
"we had best hurry, goblins are cowardly little bastards but they will come after us quickly enough. and i doubt the oxen can take many more arrows"
once we are traveling vidruth will walk beside daphyra so we can both study the scroll
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
This Mug immediately shared with me a transcendental tale of an Infinite Mug that anchors the Universe and keeps it from folding in on itself. I filed this report under "illogical nonsense" and asked why its sign is in Times New Roman font, when it is basic knowledge that Arial Black is a far superior font. I wondered: How did this mug even get past the assembly line with its theistic beliefs and poor font choices?
quote from Romantically Apocalyptic byVitaly S Alexius
Daphyra trudges. She alternates between studying the scroll and daydreaming about the new temple awaiting her in Phandelver. She also indulges in a few far-fetched images of her being instrumental in rescuing Gundren from the clutches of the goblins...
Along the way Vidruth and Daphyra are lucky, for the afternoon is clear, and while the paper upon which the spell is written, as I mentioned, is delicate, and despite its no longer being carefully covered and protected in its leather tube behind a layer of protective beeswax paper, no errant breezes whisk the tremulous parchment into the treetops, neither adventurer slips and drops the paper into a muddy puddle, and no covetous starling flits down to steal the shiny paper away for his nest. (OOC: this time :)
Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, Daphyra can make neither heads nor tails of the mysterious writing. Vidruth, however, is able to pierce the arcane veil masking its nature, and discovers that it is the 1st level spell Alarm, which, with time and financial expenditure, he will be able to copy into his spell book.
After several hours of coaxing the wounded oxen, whose load has been lessened in proportion to the soreness of your own backs, as the sun throws its last rays of daylight from the western horizon before sinking out of sight to cross eastward again through the underworld, as your third day of travel from Neverwinter comes to an end, signs of civilization, as it were, begin to appear around you as you walk.
The rutted road you now traverse, which broke off from the Triboar Trail eight miles behind you, passes several small farms, a mill, a few cottages in a row along a bubbling brook, and a small cemetery with crisp-edged grave markers on the edge of a much older, overgrown cemetery with age-softened and crumbling grave markers, before the road emerges from a wooded hillside, and Lo! you now catch your first glimpse of the town.
Phandalin seems to consist 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 rutted road, which widens into a muddy main street of sorts as it climbs toward a ruined manor house on a hillside at the east side of town.
As you approach, you hear music coming from somewhere, and see a man yelling at children playing on the town green to come in for supper. A few townsfolk are finishing chores or errands, or simply sitting on wooden chairs beside their doors and observing what little there is to see, which, at this moment, would be your small company processing into town.
Outside of the first building on the left as you approach, you see a dark-complexioned man in a shopkeeper’s apron come out from a large shed, lock the shed, then carry a few items into the other building. But just before he enters, he stops, looks your way and studies your group for a moment. He continues, unhurriedly, into the building, then reappears a minute later, and stands, arms crossed over his apron.
You notice several carts and a wagon parked beside the shed, and a small corral behind, where two heavy workhorses stand chewing. A small stables and a henhouse is attached to the corral. It’s only when you are near that in the fading light you see a hand-painted sign under which the apron-clad man stands, which reads, “Barthen’s Provisions.”
Now that you are closer, you find the man to be middle-aged, human, wary eyes over a mouth accustomed to smiling, lean, deep brown complexion, salt-and-pepper locks over a salt-and-pepper beard, and indeed, still holding packets of actual salt and pepper he had retrieved from the shed earlier. As you draw closer, he smiles and seems about to speak to Nosam, but at the last minute, does not, and a note of concern flashes over his face.
Kiselina steps up and addresses the gentleman, as he hefts his make-shift yoke off his shoulders onto the ground. Taking a deep breath before beginning.
“Fine evening and well met sir, I am Sir Kiselina of family Greyscale. Myself and our group were hired by the merchant Gundren Rockseeker to escort this wagon with its supplies and this team of oxen to Barthen’s Provisions in Phandalin. I understand the hour draws late, and would apologize for its delay. But we were waylaid by an attack on the Tibor trail just after departing the main road. Would it be possible to close this action post-haste. It has been quite the trying day. I myself am worn and tired, as well as very much in need of sustenance. The oxen, (pointing to each one) Sun and Moon were badly injured during the ambush and are in need of much rest as well. I shan’t speak for the others, but if an extra set of hands is required to offload the wagon’s goods into your capable establishment, I willingly offer mine.”
He pauses here for a moment and offers his hand to the man in a greeting handshake.
“And by what name are you called good sir?”
Continuing in his characteristically verbose manner, “I would inquire if Gundren or his accompaniment has passed this way already though I fear the answer.”
Insight:15, to see if Kis actually put together the man’s concerned expression with mistaking Nolan for Gundren.
“You see, we came upon two dead horses as well and believe they belonged to the good dwarf merchant and his escort Sildar. We secured the saddles in the back of the wagon. You wouldn’t be able to identify them per chance and confirm we are mistaken about our suspicions?”
Kiselina: “Fine evening and well met sir, I am Sir Kiselina of family Greyscale.
The shopkeeper takes a few steps forward to meet your small company as you draw close. Lamplight hanging from the roof of a narrow porch, along with rosy sunset light from the west, offers enough illumination to make out each other’s eyes, expressions and features.
“Greetings, Sir Kiselina,” he begins, cheerily, in a full-throated baritone. Looking around to the group and with a modest motion of one arm that includes you all in a gesture of welcome, he continues, “May Waukeen bring you wealth and light.” He takes a moment to nod at each of you, holding your eyes for a moment before continuing.
Kiselina: “And by what name are you called good sir?”
“That’s me,” he says, now pointing to the sign behind him. “Elmar Barthen, though folks around here just call me Barthen, which suits me fine.” He says this with pride, a pride you find honest and quite simply, friendly.
Kiselina: “I myself am worn and tired, as well as very much in need of sustenance. The oxen, (pointing to each one) Sun and Moon were badly injured during the ambush and are in need of much rest as well. I shan’t speak for the others, but if an extra set of hands is required to offload the wagon’s goods into your capable establishment, I willingly offer mine.”
The man nods knowingly at the oxen and examines their wounds, not without sympathy.
“It is late, yes you see, I close up shop at sunset, as I have just done. And hmmm, my two ‘prentices already headed home. But let’s manage our affairs in good order, yeh? Our friend Gundren left something in my possession to pass on to ye when you arrived with this wagon. Hang on just a minute.”
The man, Barthen, goes inside, and returns, after some shuffling and banging around, with a number of pouches.
“He said there’d be six. Here you are.” He hands a small pouch clinking with coins to each of you.
“Now don’t worry about these things o’ his…,” he says, indicating the wagon, “They’ll stay here and I’ll call fer Ander n Thistle to come and help. Strong young people. They’ll manage.”
Kiselina: “I would inquire if Gundren or his accompaniment has passed this way already though I fear the answer.”
“You saw my expression when you arrived, no doubt. I’ve never been so good at hiding my mind. When I saw your wagon come along with those two obstinate creatures which I recognize by the way, Sun and Moon -- saw them calved five years back – well, I figured you could be none other than…,” here he trails off, not wanting to finish a sentence, apparently, that ends, ‘because dwarves all look alike to me,’ though he is nearly unable to detach his gaze from Nosam once again.
“So… but you fear the answer? Why?”
Kiselina: “You see, we came upon two dead horses as well and believe they belonged to the good dwarf merchant and his escort Sildar. We secured the saddles in the back of the wagon. You wouldn’t be able to identify them per chance and confirm we are mistaken about our suspicions?”
Here, the man’s lips pucker in a frown, indeed his whole face might be said to pucker, the look of one who has witnessed death and loss before and has no desire to rush into doing so again. And now, his expression, which moments ago had shone with a clever businessman’s confident smile, pales somewhat, his eyes pierce yours. He takes a deep breath and continues reluctantly.
Vidruth sighs when he finishes reading the scroll and leaves it with daphyra "its alarm, a useful spell, and once you are done with the scroll i would appreciate if you leave it with me to copy"
seeing Kiselina step up to speak he leaves him to it and merely begins slowly transfering the items from his disk back into the wagon, when this is finished he stretches his back with a grimace. he leans on the wagon and looks around interested in the new town
(perception to see if he sees anything of interest 0)
OOC// ten gp right? also, that roll, does he no longer see the wagon he is leaning on?
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
This Mug immediately shared with me a transcendental tale of an Infinite Mug that anchors the Universe and keeps it from folding in on itself. I filed this report under "illogical nonsense" and asked why its sign is in Times New Roman font, when it is basic knowledge that Arial Black is a far superior font. I wondered: How did this mug even get past the assembly line with its theistic beliefs and poor font choices?
quote from Romantically Apocalyptic byVitaly S Alexius
Once the party finally enters Phandalin, Marten looks both more and less comfortable. On the one hand, he relaxes a little, no longer alert to the possibility of another goblin ambush and glad that the wounded oxen were able to make it all the way to the town. The healers must have done a good job! And thank goodness for the wizard's invisible porter who carried hundreds of pounds of equipment for miles!
On the other hand, he's conscious of all of the townspeople looking at their party. He keeps his hat pulled low and walks along silently next to the wagon. Once they reach Barthen’s Provisions, Marten is glad that there's someone else to do the talking. He looks around, quietly taking in details of the shop and Barthen himself.
“You see, we came upon two dead horses as well and believe they belonged to the good dwarf merchant and his escort Sildar. We secured the saddles in the back of the wagon. You wouldn’t be able to identify them per chance and confirm we are mistaken about our suspicions?”
Hearing the dragonborn mention the saddles, Marten is happy for a task to do. He goes to the wagon to unstrap the saddles and bring them down.
If Nosam or Berry move to help, he'll hand one of the saddles to them.
Marten brings one of the saddles up to the front of the wagon and sets it down in the lamplight in front of the shop, near to where Barthen is standing. He tries to arrange it so that the identifying markings are well-lit by the lamps. He glances toward Barthen and then stares at the saddle as though he's talking to it: "This 'ere's one of 'em."
He steps back as Barthen approaches to give Kesilina and Barthen room to look at the saddle in the lamplight.
Marten brings one of the saddles up to the front of the wagon and sets it down in the lamplight in front of the shop, near to where Barthen is standing. He tries to arrange it so that the identifying markings are well-lit by the lamps. He glances toward Barthen and then stares at the saddle as though he's talking to it: "This 'ere's one of 'em."
Berry won't need to be asked twice and fetches the second saddle upon Marten's request. "Here's the other one, good sir," he says holding it up high with his short arms outstretched. He looks to how Marten does it and shifts and rotates the saddle to bring the markings into light, too, and sets it down next to the first. "Can you identify them?"
Accepting the pouch, Nosam gives a polite nod and thank you. He watches Berry and Marten handle the saddles, "Well aren't you two making this fella feel useless, I suppose I'll stand here and look pretty." The light banter with the two doesn't detract from the look he's getting from Barthen. He addresses him friendly, but firm, he expects Barthen to explain. "Mister Barthen, I must ask... since all us dwarves look alike, who or what of my kind has you flummoxed? By the way you're staring, something burned in your brain, ha, or maybe I am indeed just that pretty. If it's too much to get into here then I say we do it with a drink."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Daphyra takes the scroll briefly from Vidruth. "I thank you for your generosity, but I cannot even read this, despite my best efforts. You had best keep it." She looks older and tireder as she says this, but her bright eyes do not stay dimmed for long.
She looks around them as the party stands talking to Barthen, paying more attention to the surroundings than the conversation. She is looking for an obvious temple structure. (Perception 11 )
She thanks Barthen prettily for the coin and stows it in her pouch. Later when there is a lull in the conversation she asks him, "I am a seconded priest from the Temple of Bastet in Neverwinter, bound for the temple here. Can you point me in the direction of the temple once we have refreshed ourselves?"
Vidruth checks his pouch and finds 10GP and an additional 20SP.
Nosam: "Mister Barthen, I must ask... since all us dwarves look alike, who or what of my kind has you flummoxed? By the way you're staring, something burned in your brain, ha, or maybe I am indeed just that pretty. If it's too much to get into here then I say we do it with a drink."
(OOC: to be clear: Barthen did not actually say this. Many of you are used to being categorized by race alone, and humans are notoriously poor at recognizing individual features of persons of other races. Therefore, you hooked into where his line of thought was taking him.)
“Oh, errrmmm,” Barthen looks at first like a child caught red-handed snooping in his dad’s “dagger drawer,” but he quickly recovers, acclimated to the rough humor of many travelers he’s sold to.
“Well Mr…?, ya caught me out there t’be sure. But it’s just that from a distance I thought you were our friend Gundren, an even though I see ya aren’t him. And, with this bad news I suppose I’d hoped my eyes were fooling me an you wuz him after all.”
Daphyra: looking for an obvious temple structure. (Perception 21 )
Daphyra sees no such structure.
"I am a seconded priest from the Temple of Bastet in Neverwinter, bound for the temple here. Can you point me in the direction of the temple once we have refreshed ourselves?"
“Well, My Lady or, Sister?,” he smiles amiably, “Phandalin doesn’t have a temple exactly. The shrine is just over there, across from the Stonehill Inn. It’s dedicated to Tymora, you know, goddess of luck and good fortune. Sister Garaele is the caretaker and, ermm, priestess if you will. I think she does a reading to Bastet on alternate Keledays, an that’s coming right up, you’re lucky!”
Marten: steps back as Barthen approaches to give Kesilina and Barthen room to look at the saddle in the lamplight.
Berry: "Here's the other one, good sir," "Can you identify them?"
Barthen takes a breath, looks the saddles over carefully. He rubs the identifying markings with his thumb, clicks his tongue when his thumb comes away unmarked.
“That’s Gundren’s. I’ve seen it before. And this one’s Sildar’s, no doubt about it.”
He sighs. “This is sad news, an his brothers’ll have to hear about it.”
His head tilts for a moment, considering.
“But goblins… Sure. They’ve been about, fallin on travelers and takin what they can, those Cragmaws and others too. But I didn’t hear before of them takin folks for ransom. I mean I hope it’s not false hope but… ya didn’t see them, right? Gundren and Sildar? Just their horses?”
(OOC: here is a map of Phandalin showing structures which have so far been alluded to. I have added this map to the campaign notes as well.)
Charisma 3
After the path gets cleared Nosem feels rather optimistic. Contributing to a group in such a beneficial manner has been such a rare occurrence these past few years; he doesn't want this new feeling to pass just yet. "I know we have a couple of options for what to do now and we have questions that still need answering. Why don't we head to Phandelver, knock back a few, and after a good night sleep we can reconvene tomorrow morn with a plan of attack. Unless I have a change of heart while I'm getting my beauty rest, I'm ready to crack a few skulls."
(ooc: rolled the wrong Charisma check, but kept the score)
Marten nods, "Yup. Finish the first job: get the wagon to Phandalin. Sleep there and head back to the foothills that Berry saw at first light tomorrow. When we find the goblins' hideout, we'll find out what they've done with Gundren Rockseeker and Sildar."
Charisma check: 5
"Yeah, I'm just worried that the goblins might catch up with us, we're very slow and a large target. We best be prepared for an assault. Furthermore, I thought, that the best would have been to lay a counter-ambush for the goblins and in this way reduce their numbers on a terrain of our choosing before entering their lair to rescue Gundren. I imagine that fighting through a well defended goblin lair could be much worse than fighting through one where we removed the stronger individuals beforehand. Well, if most of you want to go back to Phandalin, though, I will accept that."
Charisma: 18
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Daphyra would prefer to head to Phandelver and rest before doing anything else.
She does not want to track and attack the goblins -- she sees herself as a servant of the goddess, not an adventurer.
(CHA - 1
Daphyra thaws slightly towards Vidruth. "Yes, I'd like to take a look at the scroll too please, for my own education, even if I cannot use it."
Past characters:
Cariadne - Forest of Celador
Daphyra Fuffletail - The City of Cats
DM - Geek Legends - Wild beyond the Witchlight
Leela Steadystone - Adventures in the Sands
Mirri Goldenhorn - Journeys through the Radiant Citadel
Lola Smythe-Whyte - Larkin Expedition
Daphyra - Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver
Vanja - Binder's Hold and the Problem with the Mine
As the others discuss the group’s next move, Kiselina removes the saddles, tack, saddlebags and bit and bridle from the dead horses. He secures them in the back of the wagon.
He then addresses the group, “Master Berry makes a great point about tactics. Reducing the bandit’s numbers would be beneficial in the long run. The concern is however, there is no guarantee we would be numerically superior even with the gain of surprise by establishing an ambush at a location of our choosing. Coupled that with our depleted resources, spellcasters who are pretty tapped, it would be most prudent to delay contact with the enemy until we are better prepared.”
“I therefore wish to depart (with so many others) and make our way to Barthen’s Provisions to deliver these goods…and secure additional supplies. Apparently I have planned poorly for this trip and am in need of rations.”
Charisma: 8
If the party decides to return to Phandalin, Kiselina then shuffles around 300 lbs of goods to Vidruth’s floating disk. After that, he removes an additional 4 sacks (each about 30lbs) for an addition 120 lbs of gear and secures them to the shaft of his halberd, two sacks on each end. He hefts the gear onto his shoulders, yoke style, and prepares to complete the travel.
(ooc: still not encumbered by this additional load. That also reduces the load on the oxen by over 400 lbs.)
“Well,” Berry grabs his pack and belongings so that the oxen aren’t burdened with it. “I will help pushing the cart when there’s a slope or uneven ground,” he concedes sounding depressed. “I mean, I can’t believe we leave Gundren behind. After all he did for me, I really shouldn’t just leave him there sitting - well that is if he’s lucky - sitting, laying or hanging in that dank goblin dugout. And we have a bath and wash cold ale down our throats before we rest and rescue him like knights in shining armour the next day instead if immediately; unless it’s too late, of course. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if that happens, that I could have rescued him but hesitated. I hope you know what we’re doing,” he says trudging along.
(OOC: looks like the result is clear 5:1 for keep going to Phandalin. He has some 150lbs carrying capacity left, so I suppose he can assist for 300 lbs worth of pushing.)
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Nosam situates his pack and prepares for the brisk push ahead. "If any of you need an extra hand I'd be happy to be your pack mule. Hit me with it and lets get going, we have to get back to Gundren sooner rather than later."
ooc// we should have more than enough removed now.
"we had best hurry, goblins are cowardly little bastards but they will come after us quickly enough. and i doubt the oxen can take many more arrows"
once we are traveling vidruth will walk beside daphyra so we can both study the scroll
This Mug immediately shared with me a transcendental tale of an Infinite Mug that anchors the Universe and keeps it from folding in on itself. I filed this report under "illogical nonsense" and asked why its sign is in Times New Roman font, when it is basic knowledge that Arial Black is a far superior font. I wondered: How did this mug even get past the assembly line with its theistic beliefs and poor font choices?
quote from Romantically Apocalyptic by Vitaly S Alexius
Daphyra trudges. She alternates between studying the scroll and daydreaming about the new temple awaiting her in Phandelver. She also indulges in a few far-fetched images of her being instrumental in rescuing Gundren from the clutches of the goblins...
Past characters:
Cariadne - Forest of Celador
Daphyra Fuffletail - The City of Cats
DM - Geek Legends - Wild beyond the Witchlight
Leela Steadystone - Adventures in the Sands
Mirri Goldenhorn - Journeys through the Radiant Citadel
Lola Smythe-Whyte - Larkin Expedition
Daphyra - Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver
Vanja - Binder's Hold and the Problem with the Mine
And so the decision is made. On to Phandalin!
Along the way Vidruth and Daphyra are lucky, for the afternoon is clear, and while the paper upon which the spell is written, as I mentioned, is delicate, and despite its no longer being carefully covered and protected in its leather tube behind a layer of protective beeswax paper, no errant breezes whisk the tremulous parchment into the treetops, neither adventurer slips and drops the paper into a muddy puddle, and no covetous starling flits down to steal the shiny paper away for his nest. (OOC: this time :)
Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, Daphyra can make neither heads nor tails of the mysterious writing. Vidruth, however, is able to pierce the arcane veil masking its nature, and discovers that it is the 1st level spell Alarm, which, with time and financial expenditure, he will be able to copy into his spell book.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
Chapter 2: Phandalin
After several hours of coaxing the wounded oxen, whose load has been lessened in proportion to the soreness of your own backs, as the sun throws its last rays of daylight from the western horizon before sinking out of sight to cross eastward again through the underworld, as your third day of travel from Neverwinter comes to an end, signs of civilization, as it were, begin to appear around you as you walk.
The rutted road you now traverse, which broke off from the Triboar Trail eight miles behind you, passes several small farms, a mill, a few cottages in a row along a bubbling brook, and a small cemetery with crisp-edged grave markers on the edge of a much older, overgrown cemetery with age-softened and crumbling grave markers, before the road emerges from a wooded hillside, and Lo! you now catch your first glimpse of the town.
Phandalin seems to consist 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 rutted road, which widens into a muddy main street of sorts as it climbs toward a ruined manor house on a hillside at the east side of town.
As you approach, you hear music coming from somewhere, and see a man yelling at children playing on the town green to come in for supper. A few townsfolk are finishing chores or errands, or simply sitting on wooden chairs beside their doors and observing what little there is to see, which, at this moment, would be your small company processing into town.
Outside of the first building on the left as you approach, you see a dark-complexioned man in a shopkeeper’s apron come out from a large shed, lock the shed, then carry a few items into the other building. But just before he enters, he stops, looks your way and studies your group for a moment. He continues, unhurriedly, into the building, then reappears a minute later, and stands, arms crossed over his apron.
You notice several carts and a wagon parked beside the shed, and a small corral behind, where two heavy workhorses stand chewing. A small stables and a henhouse is attached to the corral. It’s only when you are near that in the fading light you see a hand-painted sign under which the apron-clad man stands, which reads, “Barthen’s Provisions.”
Now that you are closer, you find the man to be middle-aged, human, wary eyes over a mouth accustomed to smiling, lean, deep brown complexion, salt-and-pepper locks over a salt-and-pepper beard, and indeed, still holding packets of actual salt and pepper he had retrieved from the shed earlier. As you draw closer, he smiles and seems about to speak to Nosam, but at the last minute, does not, and a note of concern flashes over his face.
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
Kiselina steps up and addresses the gentleman, as he hefts his make-shift yoke off his shoulders onto the ground. Taking a deep breath before beginning.
“Fine evening and well met sir, I am Sir Kiselina of family Greyscale. Myself and our group were hired by the merchant Gundren Rockseeker to escort this wagon with its supplies and this team of oxen to Barthen’s Provisions in Phandalin. I understand the hour draws late, and would apologize for its delay. But we were waylaid by an attack on the Tibor trail just after departing the main road. Would it be possible to close this action post-haste. It has been quite the trying day. I myself am worn and tired, as well as very much in need of sustenance. The oxen, (pointing to each one) Sun and Moon were badly injured during the ambush and are in need of much rest as well. I shan’t speak for the others, but if an extra set of hands is required to offload the wagon’s goods into your capable establishment, I willingly offer mine.”
He pauses here for a moment and offers his hand to the man in a greeting handshake.
“And by what name are you called good sir?”
Continuing in his characteristically verbose manner, “I would inquire if Gundren or his accompaniment has passed this way already though I fear the answer.”
Insight: 15, to see if Kis actually put together the man’s concerned expression with mistaking Nolan for Gundren.
“You see, we came upon two dead horses as well and believe they belonged to the good dwarf merchant and his escort Sildar. We secured the saddles in the back of the wagon. You wouldn’t be able to identify them per chance and confirm we are mistaken about our suspicions?”
The shopkeeper takes a few steps forward to meet your small company as you draw close. Lamplight hanging from the roof of a narrow porch, along with rosy sunset light from the west, offers enough illumination to make out each other’s eyes, expressions and features.
“Greetings, Sir Kiselina,” he begins, cheerily, in a full-throated baritone. Looking around to the group and with a modest motion of one arm that includes you all in a gesture of welcome, he continues, “May Waukeen bring you wealth and light.” He takes a moment to nod at each of you, holding your eyes for a moment before continuing.
“That’s me,” he says, now pointing to the sign behind him. “Elmar Barthen, though folks around here just call me Barthen, which suits me fine.” He says this with pride, a pride you find honest and quite simply, friendly.
The man nods knowingly at the oxen and examines their wounds, not without sympathy.
“It is late, yes you see, I close up shop at sunset, as I have just done. And hmmm, my two ‘prentices already headed home. But let’s manage our affairs in good order, yeh? Our friend Gundren left something in my possession to pass on to ye when you arrived with this wagon. Hang on just a minute.”
The man, Barthen, goes inside, and returns, after some shuffling and banging around, with a number of pouches.
“He said there’d be six. Here you are.” He hands a small pouch clinking with coins to each of you.
“Now don’t worry about these things o’ his…,” he says, indicating the wagon, “They’ll stay here and I’ll call fer Ander n Thistle to come and help. Strong young people. They’ll manage.”
“You saw my expression when you arrived, no doubt. I’ve never been so good at hiding my mind. When I saw your wagon come along with those two obstinate creatures which I recognize by the way, Sun and Moon -- saw them calved five years back – well, I figured you could be none other than…,” here he trails off, not wanting to finish a sentence, apparently, that ends, ‘because dwarves all look alike to me,’ though he is nearly unable to detach his gaze from Nosam once again.
“So… but you fear the answer? Why?”
Here, the man’s lips pucker in a frown, indeed his whole face might be said to pucker, the look of one who has witnessed death and loss before and has no desire to rush into doing so again. And now, his expression, which moments ago had shone with a clever businessman’s confident smile, pales somewhat, his eyes pierce yours. He takes a deep breath and continues reluctantly.
“Now… saddles you say you’ve found?”
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer
Vidruth sighs when he finishes reading the scroll and leaves it with daphyra "its alarm, a useful spell, and once you are done with the scroll i would appreciate if you leave it with me to copy"
seeing Kiselina step up to speak he leaves him to it and merely begins slowly transfering the items from his disk back into the wagon, when this is finished he stretches his back with a grimace. he leans on the wagon and looks around interested in the new town
(perception to see if he sees anything of interest 0)
OOC// ten gp right? also, that roll, does he no longer see the wagon he is leaning on?
This Mug immediately shared with me a transcendental tale of an Infinite Mug that anchors the Universe and keeps it from folding in on itself. I filed this report under "illogical nonsense" and asked why its sign is in Times New Roman font, when it is basic knowledge that Arial Black is a far superior font. I wondered: How did this mug even get past the assembly line with its theistic beliefs and poor font choices?
quote from Romantically Apocalyptic by Vitaly S Alexius
Once the party finally enters Phandalin, Marten looks both more and less comfortable. On the one hand, he relaxes a little, no longer alert to the possibility of another goblin ambush and glad that the wounded oxen were able to make it all the way to the town. The healers must have done a good job! And thank goodness for the wizard's invisible porter who carried hundreds of pounds of equipment for miles!
On the other hand, he's conscious of all of the townspeople looking at their party. He keeps his hat pulled low and walks along silently next to the wagon. Once they reach Barthen’s Provisions, Marten is glad that there's someone else to do the talking. He looks around, quietly taking in details of the shop and Barthen himself.
Hearing the dragonborn mention the saddles, Marten is happy for a task to do. He goes to the wagon to unstrap the saddles and bring them down.
If Nosam or Berry move to help, he'll hand one of the saddles to them.
Marten brings one of the saddles up to the front of the wagon and sets it down in the lamplight in front of the shop, near to where Barthen is standing. He tries to arrange it so that the identifying markings are well-lit by the lamps. He glances toward Barthen and then stares at the saddle as though he's talking to it: "This 'ere's one of 'em."
He steps back as Barthen approaches to give Kesilina and Barthen room to look at the saddle in the lamplight.
(OOC: LOL! 😃 Long day. Vidruth must be sleeping on his feet.)
Berry won't need to be asked twice and fetches the second saddle upon Marten's request. "Here's the other one, good sir," he says holding it up high with his short arms outstretched. He looks to how Marten does it and shifts and rotates the saddle to bring the markings into light, too, and sets it down next to the first. "Can you identify them?"
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || b'Reh - Stig Cleric - Humblewood || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Tribute || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Zephirah - Demonic Bard - Sands || Merry - Gifted Surgeon - Short || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan - Dwarf Dragon - Wuxian ||
Accepting the pouch, Nosam gives a polite nod and thank you. He watches Berry and Marten handle the saddles, "Well aren't you two making this fella feel useless, I suppose I'll stand here and look pretty." The light banter with the two doesn't detract from the look he's getting from Barthen. He addresses him friendly, but firm, he expects Barthen to explain. "Mister Barthen, I must ask... since all us dwarves look alike, who or what of my kind has you flummoxed? By the way you're staring, something burned in your brain, ha, or maybe I am indeed just that pretty. If it's too much to get into here then I say we do it with a drink."
Intimidation 11 (9+2)
Daphyra takes the scroll briefly from Vidruth. "I thank you for your generosity, but I cannot even read this, despite my best efforts. You had best keep it." She looks older and tireder as she says this, but her bright eyes do not stay dimmed for long.
She looks around them as the party stands talking to Barthen, paying more attention to the surroundings than the conversation. She is looking for an obvious temple structure. (Perception 11 )
She thanks Barthen prettily for the coin and stows it in her pouch. Later when there is a lull in the conversation she asks him, "I am a seconded priest from the Temple of Bastet in Neverwinter, bound for the temple here. Can you point me in the direction of the temple once we have refreshed ourselves?"
Past characters:
Cariadne - Forest of Celador
Daphyra Fuffletail - The City of Cats
DM - Geek Legends - Wild beyond the Witchlight
Leela Steadystone - Adventures in the Sands
Mirri Goldenhorn - Journeys through the Radiant Citadel
Lola Smythe-Whyte - Larkin Expedition
Daphyra - Deathworld: Lost Mine of Phandelver
Vanja - Binder's Hold and the Problem with the Mine
Vidruth checks his pouch and finds 10GP and an additional 20SP.
(OOC: to be clear: Barthen did not actually say this. Many of you are used to being categorized by race alone, and humans are notoriously poor at recognizing individual features of persons of other races. Therefore, you hooked into where his line of thought was taking him.)
“Oh, errrmmm,” Barthen looks at first like a child caught red-handed snooping in his dad’s “dagger drawer,” but he quickly recovers, acclimated to the rough humor of many travelers he’s sold to.
“Well Mr…?, ya caught me out there t’be sure. But it’s just that from a distance I thought you were our friend Gundren, an even though I see ya aren’t him. And, with this bad news I suppose I’d hoped my eyes were fooling me an you wuz him after all.”
Daphyra sees no such structure.
“Well, My Lady or, Sister?,” he smiles amiably, “Phandalin doesn’t have a temple exactly. The shrine is just over there, across from the Stonehill Inn. It’s dedicated to Tymora, you know, goddess of luck and good fortune. Sister Garaele is the caretaker and, ermm, priestess if you will. I think she does a reading to Bastet on alternate Keledays, an that’s coming right up, you’re lucky!”
Barthen takes a breath, looks the saddles over carefully. He rubs the identifying markings with his thumb, clicks his tongue when his thumb comes away unmarked.
“That’s Gundren’s. I’ve seen it before. And this one’s Sildar’s, no doubt about it.”
He sighs. “This is sad news, an his brothers’ll have to hear about it.”
His head tilts for a moment, considering.
“But goblins… Sure. They’ve been about, fallin on travelers and takin what they can, those Cragmaws and others too. But I didn’t hear before of them takin folks for ransom. I mean I hope it’s not false hope but… ya didn’t see them, right? Gundren and Sildar? Just their horses?”
(OOC: here is a map of Phandalin showing structures which have so far been alluded to. I have added this map to the campaign notes as well.)
DM for Candlekeep Mysteries // Dev Hornd in Curious Critters // Eclipse Faraway in Gallows Dancer