The Dirt Roads of Phandalin

The Economy of Redemption

Surely the residents of Phandalin knew something changed. After all, there were no more Redbrands running around. A certain measure of justice and stability has been restored.

Would they ever know the cost? Would they be in the great hall of the Lord’s Alliance as they called Sildar’s name only to be met in silence. Would they see his chair remain empty as they recounted his deeds and sacrifice. Would they know his pain as he walked his former friend Iarno to the ultimate justice?

Would they know the pain of Gundren? Finding both his brothers dead? Would they ever know that the impending economic prosperity would be soaked with their blood? Would they know this pain isn’t Gundren’s to bear alone, but Kildrack’s also?

Zeen, the Dragonborn whose introduction to the part came threw the beheading the undead Sildar. his hatred for evil and the undead knows no bounds. He frequently found himself outnumbered and surrounded by the enemy only to survive time and time again.

Varitos, ever the noble and soon to be newlywed underwent a change. Perhaps it was watching Sildar being eaten by the undead, or realizing how far Phandalin had fallen. Varitos went from searching for scented soaps, to revelling in the visceral remains of his foes.

Milo, the gentlemen rogue, disabling traps, and back stabbing his way to glory. The creator of deluxe custom carts and purveyor of illicitly acquired goods, he too was no stranger to paying the cost of combat. Taking risks to save his comrades from an owlbear in Cragmay castle, to problem solving over barely there bridges, Milo had his own hand in the redemption of Phandalin. Perhaps quietly counting the cost paid in blood of the fallen along the way.

Once more, the party ventured into a cave, in search of evil, in search of Phandalin’s redemption, in search of family and maybe in search of riches as well. Pushing back the shadows of evil is not a cheap venture.

Barely five steps into the cave and Gundren was confronted with the body of his brother. Once more the party, led by Kildrack were able to encourage him to avenge his brother’s death by pressing on.

As they pressed further into the cave, the evidence of a barely remembered battle lay strewn about their feet. Bones adorned the floors like tiles, locked in immortal conflict over the resources and wealth promised by the spell forge.

Zeen, found himself in his favored habitat. Crashing through doors, alone, surrounded by those with ill intent. Each time he rose (both metaphorically and literally) to push back against evil.

Varitos, matched wits with the Spider himself and found himself running down the darkened hallways, swearing his return would be inevitable.

Kildrack, found himself, as the healer seemed to do from time to time, alone. Before long, the spiders had him wrapped and risen to the rafters. This arachnid based disappearance put him on death’s door, at which he knocked repeatedly until it was nearly too late. It was Milo’s quick thinking that reminded the group that the amulet that was now adorning Gundren’s chest, may in fact save Kildrack.

Still the party pushed on.

With a last foray to the narrowing depths of the cave they came face to tentacle with the Spectator. Who pushed back nearly blow for blow with the party. Milo darted in with a sneak attack unleashing both it’s blood and a torrent of a thousand whisper and images of the last few weeks flying by the party.

Images of the poor family in town watching their husband being dragged out into the street and murdered by the Redbrands. Images of the party pushing through the cave (with the help of Klarg of course), sounds of Iarno’s fireball slamming into half the party. Glimpses of a town on the edge of despair nearly falling in the clutches of evil.

The party pressed on and at least for one day, the scales fell in their favor and now hope, not Redbrand may walk the streets of Phandalin. The citizens have something to look forward to now.

However, the economy of redemption is not without blood, and the reopening of the mine will bring both pride and peril to Phandalin.

For now, the party can rest, and mourn the fallen. Some will wonder if deals they made will come to haunt them. Others will rest only momentarily, knowing there is still evil in the world.
But all will take time to celebrate the wedding of Linene and Vartios, and for a moment allow themselves to exhale and soak a moment of glory they brought to the dirt roads of Phandalin.

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One. Last. Gasp
Six feet in the cart and two in the grave
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When Sildar’s family fled Thundertree, he was raised on the road, his family raising him on the tenets of hard work and justice. Despite the meagre means, they gave abundantly when they had little, and stood with those who were oppressed as they moved from town to town.

This sense of equality and justice grew deep roots in Sildar finding its expression on the docks of Neverwinter, along the dirt roads up and down the sword coast. His unequivocal pursuit of justice found him in the ranks of the Lord’s Alliance. While on a mission to find out what happened to his fellow Alliance memeber Iarno, he fell into step with a rag tag bunch who shared his goals of justice, if not in means, at least in the ends.

He never forgot Thundertree, his parents and the lessons they taught him. Fight for justice, push back against the darkness, whether it’s the smallest shadow or the deepest night. Sildar couldn’t have known the cost he would pay, when the shadow’s themselves would change the heart of Iarno, his once loyal friend. It would be Sildar himself, on a lonely walk beyond the town limits of Phandalin where he would balance the scales of justice.

A short time later, the shadows would appear to turn to the darkest night. During his watch, Sildar seen figures shambling towards him in the darkness. No matter, he must of thought. Had they not just dispatched hobgoblins and a bugbear just that morning?

Sildar, whose arrows have saved his new found friends numerous times over the last few days, called for their aid, as he unsheathed his sword and strode to push back the darkness.

They stirred, but they did come.

Ghouls. They came in numbers. Sildar struck one before they closed in. They were on up too quickly. Biting, slashing him with their claws. Sildar stood as long as he could against the darkness. He called again for the aid of his friends.

They stood now, and attacked from the safety of the cart.

But
They
Did
Not
Come.

Milo watched as they tore into his flesh with a madness only known to those who once walked the world life, and now do so only in death. Milo launched an attack, so did Varitoss and Kildrack. Twice they launched arrow, spell, and javelin.

Twice more they did not come.

They watched finally, as he who stood as long as he could, finally breathed his last.

And then they came.

Magic cracked, arrows screamed and javelins flew through the air that just moments ago Sildar breathed.

The ghouls crumbled under the weight of their fury.

But they came too late. He who was destined for something greater, was gone.

Who knows what kept them in the cart that night. Standing eye to eye with ghouls after dusk is not for the faint of heart. Even those who strive to be hero’s sometimes falter. That night, it was Sildar who stood. It was Sildar who traded blows with the damned, and it was Sildar who paid the price, a hero’s price.

When the last ghoul went howling into the darkness, Kildrack did his best to breathe on the last embers of life still flickering in the shredded body of Sildar. Bandages covered his body like a burial shroud as they lifted him into the cart and stood watch.

LIfe and Death are different here in realms. It’s not life is less precious here nor that death does not come for us all. It’s just different. Why is it that some are spared the cost of death’s tally, while others pay it far too soon. Those who appear to come back, never speak of it, as if they carry the knowledge of what happened but lack the words to describe it. We may never know.

What Milo did notice was the sound of sputtering lungs, and the heaving of a thought still chest. Sometimes, when you push back against the darkness hard enough, you get one last gasp.

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An Owlbear walks into a castle....
A telltale start

After nearly bringing down the house last time after being on the wrong end of the trap, the party barricaded themselves in a side room for the night, while the search for Gundren took a small hiatus.

Fully recovered, the party did a cursory search of the main floor before ascending the stairs. Varitoss, opening the door and began to press forward into the shadows. Well, he would have, if the small horde of goblins weren’t waiting to turn the first person into a veritable pin cushion. No matter. Once a bard gets hold of this tale, not only did Varitoss absorb the volley of arrows like a champ, it was those same arrows he used to defeat them single handedly. At least that’s how he might tell it.

After a timely retreat initiated by Sildar, the party returned to the first floor in an attempt to wait out the goblins, and debate whether or not they really liked Gundren all that much anyways.

While debating the value produced by said friendship, a small chunk of rotting meat cascaded down the stairs, which was quickly followed by a ravenous Owlbear, who quickly took chunks out of various party members, pushing Kildrack into the shadows of death. The goblins quickly joined the owlbear, and Varitoss also felt the shadow of death beckon him closer.

Somehow, the party bent but didn’t break, and Milo and Sildar were able to push back against the wave of foul goblins and defeat the owlbear, saving the party in the process. In celebration, the party spent approximately 30 hours behind closed doors.

Waiting for the party to wake from their slumber, a rather large bugbear and his hobgoblin compatriots were waiting. Somehow, the party were able to dispatch the the trio without suffering catastrophic loss.

The fate of Gundren, however, remains unknown,.

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The World is a Dangerous Place
Through the Eyes of Venomfang

I’ve watched them since they stumbled into my town.

Dispatching spiders, dashing headlong from one ruined building to another. Barely scraping by the shambling ones. They reek of them. Most of them are covered in the rotting visceral. I would need to boil them before I’d offend my own palette with their flesh.

They kill well enough. Which amuses me. I almost enjoy the deaths of others as much as I love gold. There is no honour to be had in combat. Nor in death, particularly mind. I care not for the songs of bards, and have my fill of them, both their songs and the bards themselves. I must say their colorful clothes hide a rather bland taste.

Back to the killing. They seem competent for whelps. The one they call Sid seems to have an appreciation (or perhaps fetish) for placing arrows in eye sockets, which he did a number of times on this day. Perhaps his most memorable shot came when the dwarf was deliciously close to being eaten by the shambler and he unleashed a shot that travelled through the back of the head before erupting through the shamblers eye.

Actually, his best shot happened by accident, he watched the Dwarf touch himself and begin to sit up after almost joining the dark ones. He drew the bow taught, about to send another feathered saviour to save the Dwarf again. Something though, distracted him. The thought of a nameless wench from an insignificant town, or perhaps his own thoughts of grandeur. Hardly matters, what counts is the arrow he placed deep in the sternum of the Dwarf. Sadly, it was not fatal. I always liked roast Dwarf.

The Dwarf, when he wasn’t busy touching himself, or getting shot by his so called compatriots, did bring a goblin to its glorious demise. He uttered Haduken and called fire from the sky which poured through the tree. Before the fire consumed the goblin, it melted leaves into his face. This death was art, the look of horror on the goblins face as the leaves and branches were etched by fire into its flesh.

The small one wrought a lot of chaos for one so tiny. Never confronting many challenges head on, using subterfuge and striking from behind. There may be no honor in battle, but there can be glory. He dropped a number of shamblers, but, he too sent an arrow through the air, and through the head, exploding the visceral explosion over the well dressed human.

The well dressed one, seemed to take the shamblers a little more personally for some reason, crushed one of them with the flat of his battle axe. That meat bag soared through the air and through the trees. I must have that battle axe.

I watched them. I could smell their fear. Some still grasped to to the notion of nobility, of honor, of righting some injustice. The only scales that matter in this world are those that gleam in the sun as I search the skies for treasure.

They thought they were safe in the keep. They thought it could keep me out, but it kept them in. I am power. I am God. My breathe left 3 of them prostrate before me. The other, believes they can hurt me. Ha! I let them go, because, I know the heart of humans. Ambition and greed flow through their blood like it does mine. They will be back, carrying more gold, more gems and more sacrifices for the altar of my greatness.

I will have them all.

.
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Kiss the Undead
A Corpse Visage

Milo, Kildrack, Varitoss, continue to push through the hollow remains of Thundertree, cobwebs still clinging to their still relatively new battle gear. They emerged from the gutted and dilapidated wreck of a building and pushed deeper into the town.

It was if the very twigs and branches that littered the ground were watching them. Then, it was like the wind changed. The gentle breeze became more laboured. Almost wheezing. Like it was about to die. Or it was just Sidlar, finally catching up to the crew after concluding a civil mallet to balls chat with Iarno.

So, the group, now whole ventured deeper in the town. A quick stop in what appeared to be the rotting carcas of a blacksmith shop unleashed a trio of shambling corpses. The undead hit harder than expected but Kildrack dispatched the first with a gently placed orb of sacred flame, while Varitoss, didn’t even bother to defile himself by looking at the undead when he sped his great axe through the air severing bones and flesh alike, inspiring Milo to dodge slightly as a detached head floated past him before thudding on the floor.
Milo after spotting the top half a zombie clawing its way towards his compatriots quickly cleaved him down the centre line leaving a dark trail of congealed blood in his wake.
They left the undead to lie and ventured on.

A keen eye spotted the apothecary, it’s roof seemed slapped on like a bard’s hat put on at the end of a drunken orgy. Sidlar, no stranger to drunken orgies himself, wandered in ready for anything and walked out with a rather nice emerald pendant to add to his collection of jewelry which also includes the jewelled eye patch.

Next stop on the unholy mile tour was a house that appeared to be shuttered and barred. After silently sneaking around to check the back door, well, I mean silently until Varitoss kicked a rain barrel down and embankment while belting out show tunes. But other than that, they were like still waters.

After several minutes of sneakiness and a few more of show tunes, they decided to attempt a new technique; knocking. A voice called Favric replied. Identifying himselves as worshippers of the green Dragon. After a brief parley, the party escalated from knocking with fists, to knocking with kicks and warhammers, much to the same result.

While they were debating the finer points of the application of limbs and war hammer’s to doors several cultists snuck out the unguarded back door and the party quickly found themselves at disadvantage. A flurry of blows were exchanged and blood spilled on both sides before Milo dropped the first cultist with a fierce backstab staining the green grass a dark crimson. Sidlar followed suit by burying his sword in the face of another and adding a skull charm to the hilt of his great sword. Milo struck again cleaving a cultist in two with surgical precision. Kildrack, struck another down, striking his spine with the war hammer like he was a human xylophone before crushing his skull with a final blow. More blood was spilled as the last few cultists circled Sidlar before their untimely and inevitably grotesque demise.

After they dusted themselves off, and some aggressive scrubbing by Varitoss (gotta keep those noble clothes clean) the crew retreated to the cultist’s abode to regroup and search for shiny things. The keen eye of the Dwarf and hand of the halfling uncovered some diamonds, ring and a coin purse which were completely and equitably amongst the party.

After a brief rest, they pushed on and headed north towards what appeared to be an old barracks and it was there, that Varitoss met his true love, Bertha. She drew first blood with a quick bite on the cheek. Varitoss held his ground, and only threw up a little. Kildrack dropped a shambler and told her to “Aim for the flat top, Bitch” and moved on on to the next undead.

Sidlar, responded to Kildracks statement by falling prone before the zombie hoard. The zombies, being the kindly folk they are, quickly began to feast on the flesh of Sidlar. Varitoss, similarly smitten by Bertha’s quick also joined the prone party. Milo, understanding that his compatriots have become flesh buffets on the ground, sprang into action. He deftly leaped through the air and buried his short sword in the diaphragm of the bikini clad undead and allowed his weight to open her like a book as he slid down to the floor. Sidlar, managed to climb to his feet, pieces of his flesh dangling from the jaws of his enemy, and buried his sword through the face of the undead. Milo dropped the final shambler cleaving her in two, watching her torso slide off her waist and and a great pair of rotting legs walked away.

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Kildross and Varidrack
Don't let the Rogue do the name tags

Kildrack, Varitoss and MIlo watched Sidlar take Iarno for a heart to heart with the Lord’s Alliance. Which oddly required the extensive use of a sword. A quick stop in to see Linene to get some items identified.

She encouraged Varitoss that if he were to attempt to use the charm spell on her, that the scroll would not be the only thing he would lose in that moment. Her handaxe, known around town as the circumcisor was laid delicately on the table at that time.

After further pleasantries, the trio made there way to Milo’s Aunt’s house, Qelline Alderleaf.
Qelline, who was clearly Milo’s favorite Aunt (if not his only one) and suggested that they speak with Reidoth, a druid friend, who knows every inch of the region.

So, off the crew went as they headed back North up the Triboar trail. At some point, Milo excitedly, (or perhaps drunkenly) shouted Kildross! Normally, the hafling struggle’s with Varitoss. Milo gets the first letter correct, it’s everything after that eludes him.

They made it about 20 miles in the first day without incident.

The night however, was full of incident. Flying, parasitic incidents that nearly dropped Varitoss and forced Kildrack to expend a healing spell or two. Milo, thanks in part to his strategic retreat beneath the cart and some deft sword bug co-ordination escaped largely unharmed. Varitoss on the other hand looked like an insect based pin cushion, and can likely still hear the sound of his blood being pumped out his body.

Once the nightmares subsided they managed to string together a few hours of sleep and they made it to the rebuilding town of Neverwinter. They attempted, not particularly successfully to barter with an Apothecary as well as resupply.

A short ride later found the party approaching the former town of Thundertree. Home to Reidoth, a druid friend of Milo’s Aunt. Somehow, Varitoss thought druid meant pawn shop and immediately attempt Reidoth to buy all their stuff. For only 3 easy payments of 999!

Eventually, it was sorted out that Reidoth was not in the market for arms, as he had two perfectly fine ones of his own. He did however, help provide the location of Cragmaw Castle.
He also asked, politely, if the party would consider one small request ( at Milo’s asking of course) that they rid his perfectly fine town of the local young green dragon. The party remained uninterested, until Reidoth mentioned that dragons = gold. Varitoss became very engrossed at this point and proceeded to scratch Gundren’s(or Gundar if you ask Milo) name off the top of their list.

While they did not commit to the immediate eviction of the young green dragon, they did agree to look into those funny looking fellows with the capes and odd masks on the eastern part of town.

Poking through the rubble proved profitable for some, and painful for others. A keen eye helped Milo, and a bold spirit got Varitoss a spider bite to the face. Maybe they aren’t evil, just misunderstood. Bites are just how they communicate. That and poison. And webbing. But that’s because they are notorious cuddlers.

Speaking of cuddling, one spider, Sammy, playfully wrapped Milo up in his cuddle web for later. Sadly, Sammy was eviscerated by Varitoss and his greataxe. Seriously. They are just misunderstood. Luckily Saul joined Sammy a few moments later thanks to Kildrack’s orphan making sacred flame.

Varitoss – thought Reidoth was a

K- Let’s burn this bitch

Varitoss killed spider

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A Redbrand Runaround
Kildrack gets Krispy

The Nothic lay dead, it’s single piercing eye now dormant. An old wooden chest, tucked in behind some scattered rocks gave the crew a few supplies, and a shiny scabbared long sword made it’s way into the noble hands of Varitoss.

They pushed on into the carved halls, leaving the fading internal whispers behind. A hall way, a closed door and the sound of a trio of bug bears finding their entertainment at chagrin of goblin. They dispatched the brawny trio, with Varitoss burying his great axe in a rotting bed, Kildrack wreaking havoc with his war hammer and tending wounds of his compatriots.

The generally adept Milo, perhaps made one move to many as he tumbled over the eye patched bug bear. As he feet touched the ground, he was immediately flattened by a morning star. Thanks to Kildracks intervention, Milo was able to brush off the sucking chest wound and rejoin the fray.

Meanwhile Sildar drew his bow and sent an arrow through his opponents eye. This may or may not have happened while Kildrack was touching himself.
Two nut shots later, the crew, and their new tag along Droop the Goblin made camp for the night, bandaged themselves.

The were greeted the following morning by three more Redguard’s , but between the deft use of sneak attacks,, war hammers to the face and the inevitable nut shot, they were dispatched without much trouble.

Working there way through the underground compound, they discovered GlassStaff’s room and a forgotten letter from Spider. After engaging in a brief staring contest with two guards keeping a watchful eye on the woodcarver’s wife and kids.

After carefully making his way down a corridor Kildrack felt the stone give way as he plunged 20’ to his death, well not death, but serious discomfort.

A few careful moments later, Kildrack and Milo made their way towards the end of the hallway, with Kildrack discovering a false panel that led back to the entry area while Varitoss and Sildar were leading the distraught wife and children back through the compound.

Kildrack and Milo stepped through the opening and were greeted by GlassStaff who would turn about to be Sildar’s compatriot Iarno. After Milo suggested that GlassStaff couldn’t just simply leave, he noticed a small ember forming in the palm of his hand and was able to throw himself to the side as the ember grew into a flame.

Unfortunately, the very reaction that spared Milo, left Kildrack looking like someone forgot they had a roast on the fire while out drinking for the night. The fireball embraced Kildrack like a long lost love, sending him to the ground. Fortunately, Sildar, Varitoss, and Milo were able to spill enough of GlassStaff’s blood to convince him they had deadly intentions and he quickly surrendered.

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Whispered Thoughts

Kildrak, after watching Milo and Varitoss interrogate the captured redbrand, thought he should punctuate one of Milo’s strikes with his own. Kildrack stepped forward, his dwarven fist, solid like the stones of the earth, clenched. The prisoner, arms bound, could do nothing as his eyes tracked the fist barrelling through the air, full of power devoid of grace. He flinched and jammed his eyes closed. A solid thud filled the small cell, his body tensed at the sound of the impact. He opened his eyes, and could see the little one rubbing his chin.

This was an odd group. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard of interrogation like this before, where they hit each other. These guys were crazy and dangerous. Great. Well, the least I can do is take them to the manor, and maybe Nothic gets them.

………………………………………………………………………………..

Everyone has secrets.

Like the Earthwalker’s crave power, immortality, or ale, I hunger for secrets. I thirst for the hidden thoughts buried In the crevasses everyone hides beneath the thin veneer of their flesh.

I have hungered for awhile now. Nothic made a deal, food for watching the tunnel. Nothic learned long ago, their food was rotten but their secrets were as sweet as their hearts were vile. Nothic doesn’t care about hearts though. only secrets.

I knew they were here. The cloaked ones almost always use the tunnel, and they do not smell of fresh secrets anymore. I’ve cracked their heads as they walked above me. Spilled their secrets sloppily but let none slip through my grasp.

I’ve been hungry for some time now.

I heard their footsteps, smelled their approach and sampled their secrets. It’s hard not to feast when you live in a famine, but Nothic waited. They passed Nothic by.

All at once the hunger came. Nothic dragged the dwarf down, down down into the darkness. Dwarves came from the earth, Nothic is just brining him home. Nothic tried to convince them to go, but still they came. Couldn’t part with one simple Dwarf. Selfish Earthwalkers.

So full of secrets if Nothic could just crack their heads open. Stabbed in the back. That’s always the way it is for Nothic. The axe spoke twice, it held no secrets, only the truth of his blade. Now the darkness fades, the cold claws of hunger slowly released, but the madness, even now, I can sense it waiting.

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Afternoon Showdown
The flight of Vyesur'n (Yeshrin)

As told through various eye witness accounts:

I am not from Phandalin, so I don’t know if these fella’s were returning home or passing through like myself. But I remember them, as the came through on the North road, riding a wagon into town. Looked like one of Barthen’s orders coming in, odd group running his merchandise, but these are odd times are they not? I just seen’m come to town, and get a room down at Toblen’s Inn. Seen’m bring something in the back door all wrapped up. Looked suspicious, but I haven’t watched more than 10,000 sunsets by pokin’ my nose were it don’t belong.

- an anonymous traveller

At first, they were mean, the uppity one dangled me above his shiny axe like I was a piece of meat. Oh meat, I haven’t had unspoiled meat in a long time. That’s the deal right? I do this interview and you give me some meat? Then, for nooooooo reason, the next thing I know I’m bagged and tagged and shuttled off to Phandalin, do you know what they do to Goblins in Phandalin? I’ll tell you one thing, it doesn’t involve parades and a chair of honor. My second cousin Gorghrin, yeah, he got caught with a merchant’s purse by the guard, total misunderstanding by the way) and he was brought to Phandalin. Next time I seen him, he was stapled to the side of a wagon, and where the primitive ones! Anyways, like I was sayin’, these guys started out pretty mean, but they turned a corner, probably when I offered to help them get through the cave. They wouldna done that withou’ me. Traps? No problem, good ol’ Shitface knows the way. More Goblins on door duty? Ain’t no thing. Long story short, they basically made me their king and gave me freedom to rule over Cragmaw Cave. I pretty much took a sword for those guys. They’re alright. For nongobs.

- KIng Klarg Supreme Ruler of the Cragmaw Cave

I mean, they are exactly seasoned fighter’s you know what I mean. But they’ve got that youthful promise about them. And they got Linene’s supplies back to her quick enough, mind you the lot of them have eyes that roamed her figure like sheep in the pasture. But then, Linene can handle her own if need be. She’s a pretty woman, but she’s more than window dressin’ and not a small number of lads are sorry for assuming as much.

- Phandalin Shopkeep’s Assistant

I don’t see why anyone would like them. Bullies all three of’m. We just standing around, keepin’ the streets safe, like we do. Then, they come out of that no good Linene’s shop, and just start running they mouth like they know something about anything. (spits) Ha. That bastard Milo had the nerve to come back, he used to run with us you know. Had to get rid of him, unpredictable. Giving us a bad name ‘round town. Anyways. There we were, just bein’ model citizens and all, and they come after us just swingin. Never seen anything like.

The fancy one just kept throwin’ his axe up and down the street. Although eventually it slit poor halgar nuts to neck (gods rest him). They bastards killed both Dougs too. Milo snuck up on Big Doug while he’s was tryin’ to parsley with them’ y’know try and talk it out. Next thing you know poor Doug’s insides were outside.

What? Where was I? That fat dwarf using magic, next thing I know I was out like a light. Floating above my body I was. Probably targeted me, because they know I would whip the three of them. In a fair fight of course.

Now where’s Harbin, tell him to get his fat ass over here and let me out before they come back.

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Getting Shitface
A goblin with a heart of gold

The crew, each with the own reasons, quickly signed on to escort a wagon of goods destined for the town of Phandalin.

Soon Milo, Varitoss and Kildrak found themselves on the way south from Neverwinter to Phandalin. A day or so into their journey two fallen horses blocked their path. The road gave way to a steep slope on either side which quickly turned into dense thicket.

Milo moved silently (he thought) along the slope to get a closer look at the downed horses and as he approached the dead horses, their corpses marked with black goblin arrows, he was greeted by two Goblins who began to wonder how much loot he may have on him.

Meanwhile, 50 feet back, Kildrak and Varitoss were keeping a keen eye on things when two more goblins emerged from the thicket, thorns be damned. Kildrak, who likely consumed far more ale that he let on, did the reasonable thing and threw his hand axe into the thicket behind the Goblin, in a Dwarvish attempt to communicate his dominance over the Goblin.

Varitoss, slid down the hill and attempted to dispatch the goblin upon the conclusion of his descent, as a quick death is a noble death. Turns out, the hill was slicker than anticipated and Varitoss missed in his first attempt. Fortunately for Varitoss, his great axe would not miss twice and that particular goblin (ok, his name is Steve okay, and he had a family!!!!) would soon be sundered.

Meanwhile, Milo had his hands full with the goblins, and his shoulder was making friends with their swords. Milo was also able to lash out and cut one goblin down to size, although, they are already pretty small.

Varitoss dispatched a second goblin, putting his axe and math to good use by dividing the goblin and adding him to the list of the dead.

The goblin starting down Kildrak, obviously intimated by the formers ax toss, did the only reasonable thing, struck Milo in the head with his shortbow (as is a goblin custom when surrendering) and begged for his life.

Milo bound their new captive/best friend and soon Varitoss was dangling him in a strange friendship/information gathering ritual, above the blade of his great axe. In a return token of friendship Shithead provided the crew with a wealth of information.

In a show of trust, Shithead was bound, gagged and stuffed in the back of the cart (probably so he wouldn’t have to walk or see his dead comrades, these new friends are so thoughtful!) and the crew made their way to Phandalin.

Unfortunately, while they got paid they found out their patron, comrade and for Kildrak, his cousin Gundren Rockseeker did not make it to the city, despite leaving two days prior. A quick rest, a stop at Lionshield Coster so Milo could make eyes at the proprietor and promise to find her waylaid goods as a way to get….paid.

Then, with their new best friend (Shithead) in tow, they headed back to to the trail and once they had the oxen tied off and safely hidden in the thicket they made their way safely to the cave. This was possible due to the courageous actions of Shithead who guided them around traps and pointed out the location of two more goblins who were laying in wait (okay, more like standing and drinking in wait)

Milo and company disappeared into the thicket and one sneak attack later, there was only one goblin remaining. Under the wise guidance of Shithead the party dispatched of the foul creature and followed Shithead into the mouth of the cave.

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