(Kathrine grabs the beer and drains it, then gives the empty mug to Grzak.)

Alarion looks on, not understanding why anyone would dull their wits with alcohol.)

(Grzak accepts the mug without looking at who passed it and lifts to drain it. Upon the realization that it is empty gives the stink eye to Gabriel.)

(Kathrine is the picture of perfect innocence, smiling pleasantly as if she has no clue where the liquid in the mug might have gone...)

(Gabriel pretends to cough "Katherine )

Sildar is looking on and guffaws at the exchange.

"Ah, it is good to meet fellow adventurers who have met challenges together, laugh together, and who all have their own personalities and strengths.  Reminds me of my younger days." The man smiles.  He is not elderly by far, though his hair and goatee are silver.  Wrinkles on his weathered face show character, laugh lines mingle with those earned in hard times.

"I am ready to travel.  Will you accompany me to Phandalin?  I believe it is best to go there before attempting to rescue Gundren from Cragmaw Castle."  Sildar scowls.  "I would not hesitate to go there immediately if I believed that we had a good chance of finding it from this map... and certainty that Gundren was in need of rescue there."  He hesitates, with a glance at the party, and seems to make a decision.  

"There have also been too many misfortunes along this journey than can be accounted for by chance.  I am not sure who to trust.  Having seen your actions in Yeemik's cave, I know that you all appear to have good intent."

"Likely you have questions to ask me.  I also hope to learn from my friend Gabriel all about what has happened since we last met."  

"I think you've done better than I could have imagined with these goblins here." He gestures to the cave.  "In the old days we'd kill them all without question." A shadow crosses his face.  "After years as a warrior, I would rather live and let live.  The goblins you let live were not the robbers and torturers.  They were the workers.  They may be capable of peace and honest living.  They deserve a chance, or would our goblin friend here like to speak to that?" 

Sildar give a nod to Cringer.  He shoulders a makeshift pack and swings the morningstar given by Grzak, testing its weighting and timing.

"Regardless I must make haste, I've been delayed in an important mission."

Kathriune nods to Sildar. "Let us go." She shoulders her own pack and is ready to head out.

"Cringer agree." Cringer says when Sildar calls on him to speak. "Thinker good thinker and Pinky good make Thinker think better." He grins a sharp-toothed smile as he starts off next to Kathrine.

Grzak looks approvingly at each in the party as Sildar speaks. He sizes them up and thinks to himself, It’s a good crew.

He cinches up his backpack and says, “I’m ready to go.”

He mentally prepares to metaphorically put his back into it, to hoist the sails. While at the same time, looking forward to the sun on his face, the wind at his back, and the excitement to be found at the next port of call.

Sildar gives a nod and a wry half-grin as his new companions follow the trail back out to the road to Phandalin.

"We can make Phandelin by dusk if we keep up a strong pace, eat on the road."

After you make your way out of the tangled bush trail to the goblin cave, Sildar sets a brisk pace.

He occasionally takes sips from a flask (of water you assume) and gnaws on something like jerky (from the goblin cave, ug?), but never lets up his strong steady pace. 

True to his word, you see Phandalin before the sun sets.

Sildar tells you a bit about this town as you march.

"It was a frontier town.  Hundreds of years ago now, they had a good arrangement with dwarves and gnomes.  Orcs overran it."

Sildar spits on the ground, which is at odds with his carefully well-mannered behaviour in general.  

"It's only been a few years now that some hearty folk are resettling.  Farmers, woodcutters, fur traders, that sort, good folk.  No real law around here though, so watch out.  Some think there's gold in Sword Mountain foothills, fools!  It's usually soft city folk taken in by those rumours.  They're perfect prey for the bandits and cons."

There may be a touch of bitterness flavouring Sildar's stories.

The rutted track emerges from a wooded hillside, and you catch your first glimpse of Phandalin in the setting sun.

Forty or fifty simple log buildings are built upon old fieldstone foundations.  Ruins of crumbling stone walls covered in ivy surround the newer houses and shops.  It was a much larger town in centuries past.

Most of the newer buildings are set on the sides of the cart track, which widens into a muddy main street of sorts as it climbs towards a ruined manor house on a hillside at the east side of town.

"I recommend we lodge in The Stonehill Inn for the night." says Sildar, leading the way.

As dusk settles and you make your way along the muddy main street, you hear doors close and see that no townsfolk linger in the streets.  Sildar looks about with wariness.  "Are you with me?  If so, make haste.  I fear things may be worse here than I expected."

Grzak will silently gravitate to the back of the line to secure the rear of the party. He shifts to carrying his greataxe with his left hand while releasing a javelin and carrying it in a manner ready for a quick release in his right. Although there are the natural noises of travel coming from those in front of him, he tries to filter those out to perceive any unnatural noises or movements surrounding the group.

"Let's get to the inn then." Kathrine says, glancing around at the deeping darkness of twilight. "Best get the lay of th eland before we start doing anything else." She makes haste towards this inn Sildar was speaking of.

Cringer stays close to the Pretty Lady, more in her shadow than not, eyes scanning constantly, ready to have some guard or another grab him and toss him out of town at any moment.

"The inn sounds fantastic, I could use something besides hard ground to lay down on, and I would sell Cringer for a glass of wine." Gabriel laughs and smiles at Cringer "jokeing Cringer. Jokeing."