As Vanzaren leads the group towards the Stonehill Inn, they pass by a small shrine made of stones that looks as though it was built from the ruins of the old wall that encircled the town. There he sees a young female elf dressed in the scholarly robes of an acolyte, whispering a fervent prayer to Tymora, asking for the luck goddess' favor in ridding the town of a street gang and also for guidance to help her find the spellbook of someone named "Bowgentle..."

Ronk veers off from the group, scratching his chin as he regards the shrine thoughtfully. He ends up standing next to the elf, leaning in to study the shrines decorations. "Huh... Neat." He doesn't look at the elf, but as he continues to look at the shrine he asks her "Who's Bowgentle?"

Vanzaren approches the shrine as well, but simply preforms the small ritual he got into a habit of doing before performances in the circus. "Tymora bless me with the luck to do what I have to do next, be it successful or not."

With a curt nod of thanks and acknowledgement, Rigel turns and leaves the shop. After making sure the pouch is well attached and consealed, he turns left and heads off down the lane. As the sign for the Stonehill Inn comes into sight he quickens his pace. The entire walk he is trying to spot as many "Redbands" as he can. 

Perception check :  22

"When yer older, kid. And still, don't go running off to that place again, aight. Not without coming to get me first, aight." He said hurriedly and quietly if possible (or call back out after, if need be) before departing from Carp. A confused Marcon would watch some wander off to the shrine, but opt to remain at the side of the goblin duo. Both to make sure they didn't get up to any trouble, as well as be ready to shield them from any violently overzealous inhabitants of Phandalin. 

If he happens to see Rigel while doing so, he is sure to give the ranger a polite wave in passing at the very least.

 Casting a side-eye at Ronk the elf responded to his question without breaking her meditative pose: "A close friend...who was also a wizard adventurer of some renown along the Sword Coast. I am surprised you don't know the name, for he slew a great many of your kind." The elf breaks her pose as Vanzaren approaches. She waits until he is done with his short prayer and then addresses him directly: "What magic have you enchanted this creature with friend? More importantly, when do you estimate it shall wear off?"

Rigel does not spot any ruffians that fit the description given to him by Elmer in his immediate vicinity, but he does spot Marcon concluding a conversation with a halfling child across the way. He seems to be herding the rest of the party towards a large stone building at the center of town. A wide, weather-beaten sign bearing the name "Stonehill Inn" hand-painted in an elegant script dangles from a rusted, wrought-iron bracket.

The lingerings of daylight begin to quickly fade as dusk sweeps across Phandalin like the shadow of a dragon passing between the sun and it's next meal.

Vanzaren laughs, "No magic friend, the simple fact that if you feed someone enough they eventually come to accept you as a friend. Vanzaren Tanidoni at your service Miss?" he bows again.

Garet stays near the cart and looks after goblins. He is not good at talking to strangers

Ronk shrugs. "They didn't talk about the Sword Coast or adventurers in the temple, really." He frowns at Vanzaren and shoulders past him a bit roughly, grumbling "Stop lying about me and food..." He stalks off, looking to be in a bit of a huff as he rejoins Marcon, Garet, and the goblins.

Vanzaren closes his eyes and sighs as Ronk leaves. He stands up stright, "Honestly Madame, I know the reputation goblinoids have in towns. I'm just trying to convince everyone they're nothing more than harmless circus performers. Ronk," he points backwords to Ronk, "thought he could get through here with a basket on his head. We'll need all the luck we can get to get out of here alive, Tymora bless us with that much. And who knows," he shrugs and cracks a grin. "Maybe we'll do some good after all."

"Hmm...half-elves were always so delightfully trusting of other cultures. I wonder, how many of your people do think Ronk's people have eaten? That's a rhetorical question, but this one isn't: Who are you, really? And don't start with that 'goblinoid circus' bit. Your bugbear is toting shortswords and the two little ones...a distraction maybe? Have you come to pick the pockets of Phandalin while all eyes are busy watching your fear-inspiring trio of goblinkind? I'm afraid you will find the coin purses of our townsfolk quite empty thanks to the Redbrands. Why don't you take your act to Red Larch or Yartar? Less than a tenday east of here."

Rigel hurries on to the Stonehill confident the rest will be along shortly.

"Gods no, do you take me for a crook," Vanzaren looks insulted. "We're not here to hurt anyone. We were sent here to escort a cart of supplies for Gundren Rockseeker," he takes the time to explain everything that's happened so far, including Gundren's kidnapping and rescuing Sildar from the cave. "If you still don't believe me, then I guess there's nothing else to say. That's the truth of the matter."

Noticing that the group seems to have stopped at the shrine, Rigel decides against entering the establishment and instead heads towards the group. He hopes that he can get a moment alone with them so notes can be compared without the potential of prying eyes and ears.

Once Rigel gets within easy speaking distance, Marcon, who had thus far been content watching things from a fair distance with the goblins, waves him over. "Now, I could just be read'n things wrong. And if'n I am, well.... anyhow. I don't quite know what's goin' over there. But, I figured ya should know that we're gonna wanna keep on guard fer a bit." Marcon quietly warns with all the seriousness he could muster to Rigel. Assuming the half-elf obliged him, of course.

"Agreed," states Rigel. He relates all he got from Barthen. Rigel finishes his report with, "I don't know if this band is involved with the disappearance of Gundren but it wouldn't suprise me. Even if it was just a tip off to the ones who snatched him. We should round everyone up and get to the Stonehill so we can decide our next move."

With that he gives a short, light whistle in an attempt to get the attention of Vanzeran and the others. Waving over any who give notice.

If Marcon and Rigel are together, Ronk leans in a close to them. "You guys know I don't like fish livers... Right? Also I think I heard that lady say something about a gang while she was meditating. Praying... Talking to herself. I'm not sure."

UNDISCLOSED ROLL: 10

The elf eyes Vanzaren for a moment, studying his words for sure, but also searching for the slightest hint of inaccuracy or falsehood, the smallest flinch or tick that would betray the half-elf's story. Finding none, she softens her tone: "I see...perhaps you are as trustworthy as you are trusting. Forgive my skepticism and take heed for there are some here who won't bother to ask questions first. I am Garaele, of Tymora's Sisterhood of Fortune. This small shine to our Lady of Luck is the only religious establishment in Phandalin. I came here to provide healing services for the prospectors that were injured outside of town, but here lately I have been healing more injuries sustained in town...from that gang of bandits. They have already noticed you and are likely plotting your assault as we speak, but should you want to take the fight to them first, you can usually find them gathering at the Sleeping Giant. It is a small taproom just up the road leading eastward towards the old manor house. If you want the people of Phandalin to trust you, might I suggest that getting rid of the Redbrands would be an excellent place to start." 

The elf turns to make brief eye contact with Marcon, Rigel and Garet before she resumes her quiet meditation amid the busy street.

Vanzaren smiles and nods to the women. "Why of course, can't have gangs of ruffians messing with the people of this very beautiful mining town. I'll inform my friends of these troubles. And I will be back to find out more information about the Bowgentle person. He sounds interesting if nothing else. Plus spellbooks are always interesting to puruse through." He bows to Garaele, "And now Sister Garaele, I must bid you fairwell. May Tymora grant you the luck you seek."