Lost Mine of Phandelver

"Come now, I almost took a mace to the head for you. Just ask him something only Nundro would know." reasons Rigel. 

Persuasion: 8

Ronk pats Marcon on the head and helps him stand (or eases him to the floor), then looks at Rigel in confusion. "Wait, his brother CAN'T turn into a drow lady?"

 The dwarf seems to calm down as he sees you have no immediate aggressive intentions. After listening to Rigel, he grunts (a non-committal sound, that could mean either rebuke or assent) before pointing down at the other dwarf, still writhing on the floor at his feet and apparently in the middle of some sort of fit : 

"Nun ! Nun... come on, get up man...!" He shakes his head, looking worried by the lack of response. "Fer Gond's Sake, will ye look at him ? Nundro won't trouble yiz in this state. Just help me get 'im oota this bleedin place, will yiz ? Also..." he keeps looking around the room, his eyes roving over the nearby table, the fur rugs covering the floor, the big bed against the northern wall, then the wooden chest nearby, "... will yiz help me look for me map ? That so-called 'King' must have it hid somewheres !"

- -  *  - -

Meanwhile, Garet attempts to give the wolf a friendly pat, but the creature shies away from him. It gives the big Firbolg one last look, its pale golden eyes gleaming in the darkness, then quietly turns away and slinks off into the shadows to the north. Soon it has slipped past the rough curtain and made its way out.

((Ill get a post out soon.))

"Okay you watch NunDrow and I'll look."

Rigel says as he begins to toss the room. He checks to see that Marcon seems to be calming down a bit just to make sure he won't have to help intervene. He starts with the chest.

"What questions we're they asking that required them to beat you so? If I might inquire." All the while trying to be as quiet as possible to not disturb Van. 

Perception: 16

As Garet returns to the chamber "Oh no.. R..Ronk was h..he from your c..clan?"

He jumps to the fallen Bugbear Medicine 19


If Grol can be saved :

 Garet's healing instincts take over, as he goes through motions repeated many times in the past: checking for a breath, a lifeline ? Yes, it seems the defeated chieftain is still alive, although the breathing seems shallow and the fluttering pulse that the Firbolg medic detects as he presses his fingers onto the bugbear's massive neck shows that Grol is struggling to stay alive.

 Without hesitation, Garet takes the necessary precautions and uses his healing skills to stabilize their bloodied, defeated enemy: within moments the hirsute humanoid moans and sighs, as the magic of the Firbolg washes over him. Although Grol remains comatose and motionless, his breathing becomes slower and more regular, and the heartbeat races back to a more steady pulse.

-  -  *  -  -

 Gundren's eyes go from the figure of his brother on the ground to Rigel, who's yanked the chest open, only to reveal an array of furs, dirty cloth, a roughly carved wooden bowl and some bits of rope and chain at the bottom, probably used by the chief as a makeshift leash for his pet wolf.

"Oh, they wasn't asking many questions, sonny. Mainly tanned me hide to keep me from tellin' em what they was: bunch of droopy-jawed, stinking, hairy, flea-ridden sons of Morkoth... !" the dwarf says, a savage grin on his tumefied lips, "but that didn't keep me from sayin' me truth. No, Sir. No-one breaks the Rockseekers spirit, lads, of that yiz can be sure !" 

He kneels by his brother, who seems to have calmed down somewhat, and is now curled up on himself, shaking with the occasional violent shiver. "Dontcha worry, wee brother..." he pats Nundro's back with his left hand in an appeasing gesture, the right still holding the morningstar, "... Gunnie's here, noo. I be takin' care of ye. What did this scum do to ye, uh ?"

Right at this point, Rigel lifts up the 'Royal Mattress' and distinguishes a large leather sack hidden under Grol's bed. As he kneels down by the side of the wooden frame and carefully drags it out, the distinctive sound of jangling coins and bottles can be heard.

"Well what do have here? By no means a map but possibly helpful none the less" 

Rigel gently up ends the bag emptying the contents onto the mattress.

 As the contents of the leather bag spread on the bed, you see a pile of coins of diverse denominations pouring out, along with three small bottles filled with a dark liquid - although you can't quite tell the exact color, because the glass is tinted a dark blue and wrapped in rough hemp canvas for protection. 

Almost buried amongst the pile of coins, you spot what looks like softened animal hide covered with lines... names... ? It does look like...

"Oi, that's it... that's it right there ! Bring it here !" Gundren barks, excitedly. "That's me MAP !"

(Right next to the 'X' mark, you spot a few words scribbled in dwarvish runescript...)

After taking a good hard look at the map to commit it to memory, Rigel hands it to Gundren. He counts out the coins quickly into 5 piles before giving out the totals. 

"Well looks like we got what we came for. As soon as we figure out what is going on with this one, " indicating NunDrow, "lets get Gundren to Phandlin and then go keep our promise to deal with that dragon"

Marcon's attempts to brush off patting is half-hearted at best, as most of his focus had been on answer. Noone is forthcoming or even seemed to notice the searching look in his eyes if ever they happen to meet the ex-farmhand's own. Paralyzed by this and indecision, Gundren's request was to search for some map is met with just a blank stare at best. However, over time the young man must've eventually come to some ephiphany. For by the time Rigel is dumping the contents of the bag onto the bed, he took his leave to the back drop of Gundren's proclamation of "My map!".

He never even gets to hear Rigel's plan or recieves any coin, because he's out the door by the time the half-elf looks back. At least if noone stops him before then, in any case. There's isn't even a mumbled word of excuse or intent to travel. But, if not impeded by any surprise arrival of defenders, it isn't long before he's trudging out to where they left the goblin hirelings to sit and wait for the others in silence.

"W..w..wait M..Marcon" Says Garet seeing farmboy moving. "We n..need to r..recover a little. P..Please give me..f..few minutes"

Garet moves from the Grol body and pulls up from his back packsmall candle.

If no one stops Garet :

He places it on his goddess of nature medallion and then light it. With slow chant (Native American style) he wobbles a little . A strong scent of forest and thin smoke surrounds Marcon, Ronk, Van, Rigel and both Dwarfs. It should calm down a little everyone hart rates (OOC: It leaves strong mix of cinnamon, clove and orange fruit taste in mouth )

Prayer of Healing  for 17 of HP for each of 6 persons. 

As Vandaren finishes his arcane ritual and Garet starts his own healing prayer, most of the party gathers in King Grol's chambers, deciding on what to do next.

-  -  *  -  -

Meanwhile, Marcon wastes no time in rushing out of the castle, back to where the Goblins were. As he reaches the meeting point, he finds no trace of neither Spit not Stopit, however... 

 ... suddenly a rain of arrows comes at him from the nearby scrub, accompanied with guttural war cries !

 As Marcon turns around to locate the source of this new attack, he spots a small group of Hobgoblins hiding behind a big log nearby, armed with longbows. Behind them, a massive male specimen is pointing a vicious-looking, serrated longsword towards the lone human. Their intentions leave no place to doubt: hanging from the leader's warbelt, the farm boy has time to spot a few freshly severed heads, one of them a familiar-looking goblin's...

Hobgoblins - SURPRISE ATTACKS FROM HIDING (2 Attacks with Advantage, 1 Normal Attack):

Hobgoblin Archer #1: Attack: 11 Damage: 3

Hobgoblin Archer #2: Attack: 18 Damage: 9

Hobgoblin Archer #3: Attack: 20 Damage: 9

** Rolling to see how many minutes it took Marcon to reach the Ambush / meeting site: 4 **

 Though the disappearance of the goblins is taken note, the already half-depressed ex-farmhand brushes off the idea of a search. He could only muster a silent hope the pair had either toddled off to grab some grub, or ran off altogether in lieu of awaiting the return of their... friends? Handlers? Employers?

The thought is given but a mere few seconds to roll around in his skull before he feels the first arrow bite into chest, inches away from piercing a lung. Another cuts across his cheek before the shock has fully left his system. But at the third, either luck or him finally raising his shield in time saves him the pain.

As he looked to see the attackers at hand, and even think for instance this was a betrayal on the goblin's part, the forces arrayed leaves him wide-eyed. He cannot even begin to process how it was this ambush came to be set before seeing the heads on the leaders belt, and coming to another conclusion. On any other day such a sight would've provoked him to give in fully to the rage, ignoring the wolf spirit that had come to help to help guide and fight along beside him.

Tears had begun to well up in the corner of his eyes as again he is hit with a failure of character. For not only had he fail not once but twice to protect their hirelings, but had become a threat to the rest but minutes prior. Again.

'How many times will this happen before he accepted the futility of it all?' 

He couldn't be sure if the last thought was his own insecurities or whatever took over when he truly lost himself to the rage. And frankly... he didn't care. "Fine then..." He whispered, looking somehow both defeated and yet grimly determined as he pulled the arrow free. "Let it end." As he rushed forth for the goblinoid on the far left, he drew forth his mother's spear, and did not for a second look back. 

There would be no roaring of defiance. No war cry. No taunt. The only thing that would leave his mouth now would be grunts of exertion, pain, and blood over however long the battle went from that point on...

Initiative: 12.

<"Grab him and bring him to me... He's mine !"> the hobgoblin leader hisses, the harsh intonations of the goblinoid idiom cutting through the cold air, but clearly understood by the farmhand. In unison, the three foot soldiers put away their bows, pull heavy studded maces from their belts and start moving towards their prey with cruel, triumphant smiles.

Next to the leader, Marcon spots the shapes of two wolves, growling low... but he's already charging ahead, his eyes fierce and cold.

The smiles on the hobgoblins' hideous crimson faces quickly fade, as they realize the 'prey' isn't quite as defenseless as they'd hoped for it to be.

INITIATIVE ROUND:
Leader - 19
Wolf A - 14
Wolf B - 10
Hobgoblin 1(left) - 21
Hobgoblin  2 (center) - 4
Hobgoblin  3 (right) - 9
Marcon - 17

Ignoring the temptation of a straight-forward charge into the middle of the throng, Marcon took almost to the left just to get in as close as he could to the hogboblin nearest the roots of the log. Up until the last few seconds the shield is the most prominently forward during the charge, and head kept low as if the young man intended to bash one hobgoblin into the other, creating some momentary disarray in their ranks. But at the last moment out flashed the once hidden spear point as he snapped the shield wide to the side; catching what he hoped to be flesh, even in a grazing shot.

Then as its pulled back, the shield again presented, stance lowered, and with that Marcon is in a defensive posture. Come what may, he was gonna make the hobs at least earn this kill...

Movement: Full 30ft to get the immediate south of Left Hobgoblin.

Action: Mama's Spear at Hobgoblin(1).
(One Handed, Lethal)Attack: 8 Damage: 5 non-magical piercing.

Perception: 18

Ronk watches Marcon leave and scratches the back of his head as he looks at the others. "Uh, should we go after him? Maybe I should teach him some meditation..."

Perception: 18

Rigel opens his mouth to protest at Marcons exit but instead exhales heavily and just shakes his pragmatic head at another tantrum. Realizing they won't be able to divi up the bag contents right now he gently returns the coins and potions to the bag before securing it over a shoulder.
Seeing Garet in mid chant Rigel pulls out some rope and secures Grol as subtly as possible so as to not disturb the casters. Once finished he move towards NunDrow but halts short. Giving Gunsren a stern but understanding look the ranger holds out some left over rope as he says,
"I know you don't want to do this but a moment ago he was a female drow. We can't have him unbound till we know the truth. Please don't make me do it."
To Ronk he asks "Watch the door will ya? I want to see whats in that last room."
Hopefully as Gundren binds NunDrow, Rigel opens the door in the northwest corner.

Survival for the knots : 11

Persuasion for Gundren: 22

Perception for the room: 19

Perception for Marcon: 10

 As Rigel opens the door to the north-west, it grates on the stone floor and creaks, but soon reveals the small darkened room beyond: most of the opposite wall being now nothing but rubbles, a few thin gaps between the fallen masonry blocks let in enough light to see what seems to be an ancient bathroom. The dusty tiles and moldy bathtub filled with cobwebs and rat droppings show that the place hasn't seen much use over the last decade or so.

                                                                                                                                                   -  -  *  -  -

 As Vanzaren sends his awareness across the room, looking for signs of magic, he doesn't detect anything of the arcane. But moments after Marcon's departure, he distinctly hears a harsh voice shouting orders in what sounds like goblin-speech somewhere outside, in the general direction their companion must have emerged from. Ronk's frown and concerned look show that the monk has also noticed something was amiss. Indeed, mere seconds later the sound of weapons clashing against shields seem to confirm the urgency of the situation the barbarian most likely finds himself in !

 -  -  *  -  -

 In the center of the room, Gundren first shakes his head at the ranger's suggestion of tying up what he still considers to be his sick brother (Wisdom check: 16), but he nevertheless starts uncoiling the length of rope and approaches Nundrow. "Sorry about this, wee brother, ye'll be safe soon enough, I swear to ye..." he says apologetically as he bends down to start tying up the prostrate form.

"Oh aye, 'dear brother'. So good to see you care. Here..." In a flash, 'Nundro' springs to his feet, a gleam of malice shining in his now wide-open eyes, as his expression twists in a malevolent grin, "... Let me thank you for your kindness !" In a lightning-quick, practiced motion, he slams his right fist into Gundren's throat, who gurgles and crashes face down onto the fur rug, before grabbing the map from the nearby table where the dwarf had left it. "A pox on you all ! The Black Spider will tear your guts out !" the younger dwarf says, shoving his way through the party towards the exit, and delivering another blow to Vanzaren, who find himself blocking his way out.

  -  -  *  -  -

 Meanwhile, outside the castle walls, the hobgoblins use a classic but efficient tactic: surrounding their opponent and clubbing him down relentlessly. Behind them, their leader takes a few steps back and still watches, keeping a tight leash on his pet wolves. The two beasts start snarling, excited by the smell of battle...

Hobgoblin 2 - Attack: 22 Damage: 4

Hobgoblin 1 - Attack: 13 Damage: 8

Hobgoblin 3 - Attack: 16 Damage: 9