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 to 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.

"I am no one's boss, Bozzlewick." Ungrim replies, shaking his head. "I was pointing out that Phandalin's community is in need of those supplies, and that hauling the cart's contents behind us will only slow us down. Therefore, the sooner we unload the cargo, the better."
The dwarf scratches his chin beneath his beard. "Sildar, Gundren's friend, seemed to be a capable warrior," Ungrim adds. "Gundren was very secretive about his finding. Sildar may not know much, still..."
The dwarf stomps over to the goblins once more. "What did you do to the dwarf's companion, and where is your stinking lair, goblin? Speak!"
Ungrim taps the shaft of his greataxe violently against the battered ground.

@DM As I'm not sure if the previous intimidation check still carries on for this follow-up question, I'll roll again, please ignore it if it's not relevant.
Intimidation 7 (+2 to the roll if I can use Strength for the Intimidation check)

The anger of the dwarf who stands over them still leaves the two goblins in fear. "We took man to ‘eating cave’. Many goblins in cave, maybe three hands, or so." one says.  "We take you, we take you. Just don't kill us!" pleads the other.

Nyxaris examines the strange goblin but as he attempts to detect any magic he finds none.  No magic aura touches the strange crystalline growths.  But something has clearly mutated this goblin.

Thalas and Akra have no issues returning to the rest of the group.

When the ritual’s final whisper of power fades from his fingertips, Nyxaris opens his eyes. There is nothing. No shimmer. No aura. No trace of spellcraft clinging to the black crystalline growths. Only the cold, inert truth of something that "should not be".

He remains kneeling beside the corpse, pale features still as carved marble. The dark crystalline protrusions catch the dim forest light with a dull, oily sheen — not magical, not natural, not anything he recognizes. His gaze lingers on them with a scholar’s fascination and a dreamer’s unease.

Slowly, he rises. He collects the scattered coins (3 silver, 11 copper) brushing dirt from the tarnished metal with absent care. These he folds into his palm, intending to give them to Ungrim later. Such things matter little to him.

But the mutation… that holds his attention. He turns toward Bozzlewick, cloak whispering behind him like a shadow reluctant to let go. “Mr. Boulderdash, your expertise is required if you have a moment.” He gestures toward the crystalline growths with a slow, deliberate motion. “There is no magic here. No lingering spell. And yet… something has reshaped this creature. Something that works its will without arcane touch.”

His eyes lift to meet the gnome’s — pale, distant, reflective. “I cannot name this corruption. But it is not born of spell or sorcery.  If you have knowledge of alchemy, affliction, or artifice that might illuminate this… I would hear it.” He steps back, giving Bozzlewick room to examine the body, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur meant only for the gnome and the dwarf beside him. “Whatever touched this goblin may touch others, and if so… we must understand it before it understands us.” Nyxaris folds his hands behind his back, watching with the stillness of a statue as the forest holds its breath around them.

Bozzlewick smirked a little at Ungrim's denial, but otherwise left things at that. And seeing the dwarf go on to further interrogate the goblins, the gnome began to get back to maintenance work, but was given pause at Nyxaris request. "My expertise, eh? Color my curious!" Without much further fanfare, he folds up the crossbow, and makes his way over with the weapon slung over a shoulder ready to hear the man out.

The gnome's eyes almost immediately light up once Nyxaris points out the strange goblin. After that, Nyxaris barely has time to make space before Bozzlewick is at his side, or more accurately at the corpse's side, putting on fresh gloves and practically vibrating from excitement.

"I see now, I see -- my, what a wonder? And you say you sense no magic? Huh! Even curiouser! But, we shouldn't completely rule out magic; especially if the warping is from so long ago that any magical signature would've long since died down." He declared, then took another stimulate in anticipation of performing a fairly thorough examination of the goblin.

-Medicine: Nat 20! (Plus 1 from guidance for a 21. And if nature or arcane would be more appropriate, then its a 27)

"Hmm... hmm... It's not stone rot... No.. No that. But, it does remind me of some mutations one can experience in certain parts of the underdark with the, uhh, phaza... fraza... faerzress! That's it! Well, that's not what this is, but it reminded me of how that magical radiation if given enough time can alter the body a bit." He pauses to pull out a small notebook in his back pocket and began flitting through the pages.

"Then again, this could also be a somewhat natural mutation as well -- Goblins, you see, are rather prone to that depending on where they live. Certainly much more mutable than most under the right conditions. But, eh, this is feels a bit extreme for the few cases of natural mutations that even I'm aware of. Uhm... Possibly unique infection? Hmm... No. Any particular fauna-..." He kind of trails off there muttering to himself and occasionally jotting down more notes in his book as he ran through possibilities.