The Phandalin Chronicles

Ungrim translates for his companions what the goblin has just said. He scratches his chin, muttering "What have you found, Gundren?" Then, pointing a stubby finger at the goblin he asks, "Where is Grol hiding, and who is this "Spider"?"
The dwarf runs his thumb along the blade of his axe "Speak! My patience is running thin!" He growls at both goblins, fixing them with a hard stare.

Intimidation 16
(If allowed to make it a strength based intimidation check add a +2 to the above roll)

Nyxaris lowers himself into a crouch with the slow, deliberate grace of someone accustomed to listening before acting. His pale fingers drift across the churned earth, tracing the story written there in bent grass and disturbed soil. He studies the scene and tries to determine what happened after the Goblin's confession.

Survival: 18

Akra breathes in and lets out a sigh. Looking around, she feels like stomping a foot, but restrains herself. Even when the company of only oneself, you should still act properly.

"Tutu," she says, addressing the toucan on her shoulder who has skillfully retained its footing despite her run, "the goblin got away. And no one ran after me." She looks up at the dangling rope. "And I was almost caught in that trap."

She takes in another breath, then a wide smile spreads across her snout. "This has been loads of fun!" she exclaims, her voice full of glee.

"Now," she says aloud to herself — under the guise of talking to her bird — beginning to retrace her steps, "let's get back to my new campmates. I'm sure they're worried about my wellbeing."

Akra takes a moment to reflect on her current situation. She then turns back south along the path towards the others.  A couple minutes later she hears the sound of someone coming north along the same path.  For a few tense moments she prepares for the worst and expects a goblin or two, but it is Thalas that comes into view.  Unless they choose to do something else they can return south along the path and reconnect with the rest of the party.

Ungrim threatens the goblins.  The one that was speaking up suddenly clams up and looks very fearful.  But the other, the one that just glared, now looks fearful as well.  The wrath of the dwarf causes him to speak.  

"We’s the Cragmaw Band. Our leader here is Klarg – big, strong bugbear. Bigger leader is King Grol – big, strong, and old bugbear. King Grol lives in Cragmaw castle, far away!  I'll tell you what I know! A few days ago, Klarg got a messenger from King Grol. Just a scrawny goblin, but he carried Grol's orders. He said someone called 'the Spider' was paying the Cragmaws good gold to capture a dwarf named Gundren Rockseeker and send him—and everything he carried—to King Grol. Klarg did what he was told. We ambushed Gundren on the road and took him alive. Then Klarg sent Gundren and all his belongings to King Grol, just like the orders said. That's all I know, I swear! Please don't kill me!"

Unable to help himself Thalas rumbles when he catches up to Akra “e hine don’t you go running off like that again. This ain’t your safe homeland with all those nice people to look after you and be at your beck and call. Now I ain’t be knowing a lot about trees and stuff but I reckon there’s all sorta nasties out there!” 

(Does Nyxaris see anything that the other may have missed?)

Nyxaris moves to where the horses are.  They are skittish but do not run away.  He looks around the scene and also checks the dead goblins.  Nyxaris can see that it appears that two injured persons were dragged away from the scene of the ambush.  Blood and footprints also lead away to the north.   

In getting a closer look at one of the dead goblins he can see that this one looks different from the others.  One has elongated features and black crystalline growths on its body. 

He can collect several arrows along with a couple short bows and scimitars from the dead goblins.  None are in good shape and are poorly constructed.  Their armor is piecemeal leather which is dirty. The dead goblin's pockets have some broken glass, polished rocks, and a tarnished silver spoon.  He collects 3 silver and 11 copper pieces. 

Nyxaris moves with the slow, unhurried grace of a shadow deciding where to fall. The others speak, but his attention drifts toward the stillness at the edge of the clearing. Toward the truth written in blood, soil, and silence. He kneels beside the dead goblin, the one whose body is wrong in ways the forest itself seems reluctant to touch. Elongated features. Black crystalline growths. A corruption that gleams faintly even in the muted daylight.

His pale fingers hover just above the jagged formations, not touching, merely 'listening'. “Gentlemen,” he murmurs, voice a low, resonant baritone that seems to settle into the earth itself,  “grant me a moment. Something here… is not as it should be.” He closes his eyes. The world narrows. The wind fades. The forest exhales.

Nyxaris begins the slow, deliberate cadence of a ritual — not spoken aloud, but shaped in breath and intention. Ten minutes of stillness, of quiet concentration, of letting the unseen rise to meet him. His posture is statuesque, as though carved from moonlit stone, cloak pooling around him like a dark tide. While the magic gathers, he studies the crystalline growths with the cold precision of a scholar. His eyes open — pale, distant, reflective. He lowers his hand over the corpse, letting the ritual’s final threads weave into place.

Nyxaris ritual casts Detect Magic and studies the crystal growth and the elongates features of the goblin. Arcana: 11

Akra grins up at the sailor. "Thalas, I should have known it would be you who would follow me," she says warmly. "Worry not."

She turns and points her scepter back the way she had chased the goblin. "The sneaky devil went that way. I almost had him, but then I sprung a trap, and it distracted me, and it got away." She turns back, her crocodile grin widening. "We should fetch the others. I wager between the lot of us, we could find where the little fellow has gone. There might be more, and we don't want them ambushing other innocent travelers!"

"Right you are e hine lets go back and tell the Kainanahu, the e punenga iti  and the koura what you found. See if they've got any ideas?" Thalas rumbles as he sets off back to the group. As he walks away he turns back to Akra and finishes "now e hine don't you go getting lost again!"

Ungrim grunts as the goblin tells his story, then, stomping his feet, turns towards the group.
"Rust and ruin! They have days of advantage on us." The dwarf pauses for a moment before adding, "As soon as Thalas gets back, with or without the Princess, we'll resume our journey to Phandalin. The provisions and mining supplies we are transporting are vital to the town. I'll make sure Barthen pays you extra for your help with those goblins."
Ungrim stares fiercely at the two remaining goblins. "Then I'll ask him about what Gundren was up to. He was muttering something about a great find, and I think that this 'Spider' fellow is after it as well. As soon as I discover more, I'll go after him. Someone in Phandalin is bound to know more about the whereabouts of this Cragmaw Castle."

While Bozzlewick hadn't be able to piece together more than a word or two at best on his own between all the jibber jabber from the goblins, the gnome was content to stand back and let Ungrim handle the interrogation/translations, as it at least sounded like the dwarf was making a touch more progress! Yet even in apparent idleness, Bozzlewick was anything but! Such was the curse of gnomekind, or so he'd and most of his family would claim whenever someone might have cause to ask.

So by the time anyone is paying attention to the artificer again, he'd taken to performing some maintenance on his crossbow using what appeared to be a few specialized tools. Yet as much as he portrayed intense focus on the work at hand, his next words bespoke of being otherwise: "Men." He stated as if clarifying something. When none seem to clock his meaning immediately, he chuckles a bit, but continued to tend to the weapon while adding, "The horses mentioned 'men'. Plural. This implies Gundren was not alone in his travels. Which makes sense. Yet, did either ever really mention what became of this other person? No? Unsurprising! While one could chuck this up as something that hadn't come up yet in the conversation, and thus the goblins had no reason to mention it, this doesn't exclude the possibility that they're hoping we'd be satisfied only with Gundren. Nor does this preclude that this other missing individual is dead either." He explained.

"Now, Gundren is our employer, and thus should take priority. No disagreement there! But, considering your own muttered concern of wondering what Gundren discovered, could be this missing 'guard' or 'friend' of Gundren might know something relevance to that very thing. And that leaving him in the continued 'care' of beings known consume humanoids once they've lost value in other ways, it might not be wholly a bad idea to try and stage a rescue, yes?" He pauses to look past the arch of his crossbow and raise a brow at Ungrim. "Plus, if their kin have made it a habit of plundering this road, that would mean there's treasure to, ehh, reappropriate, yea?" He waggles his brows. "But, such is your call, boss man!"

"Lost?" the princess asks, sparing a second for self-reflection. She doesn't remember ever being lost.

With a little shrug, she continues marching along behind Thalas. She passes the time by pointing out every bit of the forest that she finds interesting — which is just about everything.