Adventures in DnD: Session 3 (Part 1)

The Stonehill Tavern sat empty except for three individuals waiting impatiently at a long communal table in the middle of the room. The three stirred uncomfortably, having not expected to be waiting so long in their armor and travelling clothes. Rucksacks sat heavy, loaded down with food and essentials, on their shoulders and their weapons, still held in scabbards, were strapped across their waists or backs. The three were waiting, and had been waiting for almost an hour, on the last of their group to return from upstairs and the inn’s rooms. They had been sitting in silence except for the sounds of rhythmic breathing. It was past mid-day, but still too early for the others to have wandered into the inn after a day’s work and so they sat alone in the inn. Worse, they waited without any drink as the bar in the small inn was awaiting another shipment of ale; the last shipment having been waylaid or confiscated by the group of bandits who had placed the small hamlet of Phandalin under their “protection” a few weeks back. Finally, unable to take the uncomfortable silence of strangers a moment longer, one of them spoke.

“What are we waiting for,” asked Stethaniel, a tall, slender Dragonborn with scales the color of shiny brass. He wore a bright cloak of purples and blues with gold embroidery across the back in a bewildering pattern that looked like spiraling musical notes. Draped across his shoulders and held close to his chest is a gold and copper colored instrument Stethaniel called a saxophone and, if he was to be believed, it was the instrument of one who had at one time received royal patronage. “I thought this was an adventuring company. I was led to believe that you already had jobs lined up. I didn’t sign all those blasted papers and contracts that child kept presenting me only to get stuck in this town. I need gold and safe passage to a larger city were my musical talents can be appreciated.” He looked disapprovingly as the small stage in the corner of the inn. “I’ve already been forced to play in this dump long enough.”

Bentar turned to face the bard, leaning awkwardly across the table to keep his suit of chainmail from pinching him in some of his softer bits. He eyed Stethaniel, taking in the bard’s scaled frame and constantly shifting green eyes. He took a moment to look at the newest member of the RED C Adventuring Company: Stethaniel had joined the company only a few hours ago after being recommended by Lord Easton Greymane and signing over thirty pages of the noble youth’s “company documents.” Bentar was impressed when the boy had written up the contracts and other business documents so quickly. Easton seemed particularly intent on this adventuring company becoming a proper business entity back in their hometown of Waterdeep. “We are waiting on Easton,” said Bentar. “He went to speak to Sildar, an old man we came across and rescued form goblins just yesterday. The man was in a bad way, beaten and tortured. I didn’t think he’d survive the journey back to town.” Bentar sighed. “It wouldn’t surprise me if the old man was dead and Easton was stuck upstairs trying to contact him beyond the veil.” He huffed slightly, “like that fool could conjure anything beyond a magic missile let alone perform some complex magic like communing with the dead. The kid hasn’t even graduated from the University in Waterdeep yet.” Bentar caught himself speaking disparagingly of the other noble and stopped. It wouldn’t do for one noble to speak ill of another in the presence of strangers, especially those of a lower class. Plus, Bentar remembered, the youth had saved him the previous day from death at the hands of a bugbear. He resigned himself to having to spend more time with the young noble, especially as he himself had signed similar documents as Stethaniel in forming their adventuring partnership.

The sound of steps pulled the adventurers’ attention from their conversation. Coming down the stairs was a thin and slightly malnourished young man, no more than twenty years old. His black hair was cut short and oiled back. A full length rope of fine fabric edge in fur floated barely an inch above the ground as Easton walked into the common room. His stature and clothes spoke of a man of wealth, or at least the child of wealth. He quickly crossed the room and approached his companions. Besides Bentar, Theren Wanakin, druid of the Neverwinter wood elves, spoke brusquely. “What took you so long?" he asked.

Easton look side-eyed at the elf. “Sildar was not in his room. I had to go and find the inn-keeper, who is still cross with you by the way for the state you left your room this morning, to learn that Sildar had gone to visit the townmaster. He said Sildar looked much refreshed after his night of rest despite the injuries he had sustained and told the inn-keep that he had urgent business to attend that would not be put off. The townmaster’s hall is just a few minutes away down at the end of the street. That is where we will head next.” Easton’s authoritative tone, used to ordering servants around for years, brokered no other suggestions as to the groups destination. The four men, newly bonded compatriots, headed out of the inn and down the dirt road that served as Phandalin’s main thoroughfare.

As they walked, Stethaniel asked, “why do we need to speak to this man, this Sildar? What is it we are looking for?” Easton brought Stethaniel up to speed on the group’s last few days. He told Stethaniel about being hired by Gundren Rockseer to deliver goods to this town and about the goblin ambush along the way. He talked about the journey into the goblins’ cavern and finding Sildar nearly dead, chained to a wall. During the discussion, Bentar and Theren would add their own observations – usually about killing goblins or other creatures. Bentar in particular rejoiced in retelling his single combat with the bugbear leading the goblins, though both Easton and Theren noticed that Bentar failed to add that he had nearly died in that combat and had to be magically healed or his shoulder and clavicle would still be broken. Eventually, Easton informed Stethaniel that Sildar had information about the goblins who had taken Gundren and the only map to the hidden mine, information that they needed if they were going to be able to rescue Gundren, and Easton hoped, be paid handsomely for their efforts. Stethaniel perked up at the sound of payment.

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The townmaster’s hall sat towards the end of the main dirt road, cloistered among a few small wooden buildings. Compared to the hovels that had built up in the hall’s shadows, the hall itself was an impressive building for such a small hamlet. It’s two stories were built with stone plundered from the ancient ruins of the old town. A high-pitched wooden roof kept the building protected from the elements far better than the thatched roofs of the surrounding homes. At the eastern-most end of the building stood a three-story tall stone tower housing a large brass bell. A visible rope ran from the bell down into the building allowing someone inside the hall to call the hamlet’s inhabitants to a meeting or warn of impending danger. By the door – a strong, iron-banded door – stood a notice board. Posted on the board was a single sheet of vellum paper which read “Reward – Orcs near Wyvern Tor! Inquire within.” Bentar pointed out the job notice to his companions. “Orcs? An easy enough job. This satisfy your need for immediate work, bard?”

Stethaniel looked at Bentar and nodded half-heartedly. “Sure, work is work. I care not as long as the coin clinks.”

“We are here to talk to Sildar,” said Easton, pushing open the door and stepping into the building.

“Yes, but it never hurts to keep our options open. Or to learn what areas to stay away from. Plus, we can work more than one job at a time,” replied Bentar, following Easton into the large town hall.

Inside the hall the group was greeted by the current townmaster, Harbin Wester, a morbidly obese, short man. He was balding, with the few remaining strings of his dirty blonde hair running from the side of his head in thin and stringy clumps. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead despite the colder winter temperatures. He wore a well-made outfit of costly materials; a cream colored woolen shirt was tucked into a pair of black knit trousers. The shirt was covered by a solid rest black vest with gold colored buttons straining to hold in Harbin’s girth. Harbin waddled over to the newcomers and welcomed them, officially, to Phandalin. “Welcome to Phandalin, . . . fine sirs,” he added after noticing the fine clothes and prominently displayed signet rings on Easton and Bentar’s fingers. His jowls jiggled as he spoke, “I am Townmaster Westin, the elected townmaster for the year. I am also the town banker if you have need of such services. How can such a humble governmental servant such as myself be of help to you?”

Before Easton could ask for Sildar, Bentar stepped forward. “Well met Townmaster. I am Lord Bentar Smakserbotom, of the Waterdeep Smakserbotoms. I was curious about your posting on the notice board. It seems your town is having some orc problems. My companions and I are more than capable of taking care of this problem for you. My only question is,” Bentar leaned forward putting his muscled frame only inches away from Harbin’s, “what kind of reward does it entail?”

“Ah, Lord Smakserbotom, very good to meet you.” Harbin attempted to incline his head in a bow after confirming Bentar’s noble lineage, but the fat around his neck prevented him from any action but the most pathetic of bows. “The town is enriched by your presence. You see, a group of orcs have been see around . . .”

“Excuse me,” Easton interrupted. “We,” he stressed looking at Bentar, “are looking for Sildar Hallwinter, a member of the Lord’s Alliance. Is he here?”

The townmaster startled at Easton’s interruption. He was not used to being interrupted by the local populace, but he was also not used to dealing with nobility this far from the coast and so was taken aback by the youth’s brusqueness. “Yes,” he stammered. “Sir Hallwinter is in the back. Please,” Harbin extended his hand and moved out of Easton’s way as the young noble marched toward the end of the hall and the high-backed chairs set in front of a roaring fire.

Stethaniel walked with Easton, but neither Bentar nor Theren made to follow. Easton turned back to his compatriots, “are you staying here?” he asked. “We have much to discuss with Sildar.”

“Well,” replied Bentar, “I have much to discuss with Townmaster Wester about these vagrant orcs and my reward.

“And I have a few questions of my own for the townmaster about the Redbrands,” said Theren.

“Fine. Don’t drag us into anything that will distract us from finding Gundren.” Easton turned and moved on, leaving the others to deal with the annoyance that Townmaster Wester. Easton has seen his like before, s small man of even smaller power who abuses it to its fullest. He hoped that Bentar would be able to handle the man and not bog them down in any unnecessary activities.

At the end of the hall, lounging in one of the chairs sat Sildar, his old worn face basking in the heat and lights of the fire. Bruises shown across his body where the fur draped over his slumped shoulders failed to cover his arms. Easton winced. The older man was obviously still in pain from his injuries. Easton could hear the sound of labored breathing escaping from Sildar’s chest. But, Easton noted, Sildar’s overall color was better and there was a vibrant energy around his eyes as if the old adventurer was still ready to travel and fight despite the trials he had recently endured. “Good day, Sildar,” Easton said as he placed himself in the open chair opposite Sildar. Behind him Stethaniel huffed, disappointed in having to stand. But Easton ignored the Dragonborn. “What brings you to the townmaster’s hall? I had thought to find you earlier at the inn, still recovering in your room.”

Sildar faced Easton, “I am not as weak as you think I am,” he said contemptuously. “Besides, I have business here. A member of the Lord’s Alliance and a personal friend of mine has gone missing and the townmaster was telling me what little he knew about what had happened. A month ago, the Lord’s Alliance had sent Iarno Halbrecth to Phandalin. He arrived in town safely and made contact with the townmaster, but then no one is quite sure of what happened to him.

“Could the Redbrands have captured him? Killed him, perhaps?” Stethaniel chimed in.

“What is it with these Redbrands?” asked Easton. “We have heard nothing but complaints about these fellows since we arrived in town.”

“I have only been performing in town for a few weeks,” said Stethaniel, “after the Redbrands had already effectively taken over the town. I don’t know how many there are. They stay away from the inn and from large groups of people, but I have seen them around town, usually alone or in pairs. I have already heard, as tavern rumors go, that they have taken over the tavern at the end of town.”

“That they have,” replied Sildar. “I have been able to gather that these Redbrand bandits came to town the same time as Iarno. I am worried that they might be involved in his disappearance. Iarno has always been of fighting spirit and he would not have stood by and let these bandits take over the town if he could have prevented it. He was a well experience wizard. I heard that Iarno had told the innkeeper that he was going to investigate the old manor house, but he was never seen again after that. Sildar hung his head slightly. “I rest now, but tomorrow I shall follow his trail. I, and the Lord’s Alliance, must know what fate has befallen him.”

“I am sorry to hear about your friend, Sildar. But I fear we have more pressing matters with finding our employer Gundren.” Easton then questioned Sildar about their capture and his knowledge about Gundren’s possible whereabouts. Sildar’s memory was still hazy from his ordeal, but he remembered the goblins’ assault and being taken to the cave. He told Easton how once inside the cave, the goblins separated the two and chained him to the wall in order to torture him. But he remembered hearing that Gundren had been sent on to the goblins’ keep along with the map showing the entrance to the lost mine.

“I remember them talking about the map more than anything, as if the map was more important than Gundren,” said Sildar. “But Gundren was a sly and experienced fellow and he had written the map in the language of the mining guild. No one else but Gundren or his brothers could read that map. Hopefully, that means he might still be alive. There is that chance, that hope.” Sildar sighed, “but it seems hope is in short supply at the moment.”

Easton and Sildar spent several more minutes in deep conversation. Rising from the chair, Easton reached down and touched the old man’s shoulder. “We will do what we can Sildar. I haven’t known Gundren long, but I would not leave anyone in the hands of the goblins if there is something I can do. And rest, we will look into your friend Iarno’s disappearance as well. The others area already weary about the bandits in town and I will convince them of the worthiness of our search. But please, stay put for a few days and let us take care of this for you. The patronage of the Lord’s Alliance would be appreciated on our fledgling company.” Easton and Stethaniel walked back across the room leaving Sildar alone to enjoy the fire and made their way to their companions who were still talking to Harbin.

As they approached Bentar reached his hand out and shook the fat hands of the townmaster. “Deal,” he said. “We will take care of these orcs prowling the surrounding hills. We should be back in a few days. Have our payment ready.”

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Outside the hall the group passed their gathered information around. Theren relayed the limited information the Townmaster Wester had about the Redbrands. “He said they have been around for about a month and have taken over the tavern on the edge of town, having run the prior owners out of the area. But, and this vexes me to no end, he seems little concerned by their presence and basically said that they should not be interfered with. I don’t know if the townmaster is afraid that we will bring more trouble to the town, or if he is being paid off. But I don’t like him and the way he is letting those thugs run around either way. I think we should do something about these bandits.” The group listened, nodding at the elf’s plea, but Easton reminded the others that they had more pressing matters to attend with Gundren’s capture. “Plus,” Easton added, “these bandits haven’t done anything to us. And I don’t want to anger a group that has no problem killing someone who has only been speaking out against them. Especially, when we don’t know anything about their strength of arms or their numbers. It could be like fighting a hornet’s nest.”

Bentar informed the group of this deal with the townmaster to take care of a small band of orcs that had been seen in the countryside near the mountains of Wyvern Tor. “Less than ten orcs in total.” Bentar laughed at the absurdity of such a small band wandering the wilderness. “He was sure of that. Should be easy pickings for us. And a hundred gold upon completion! This something that we should take care of shortly.”

“Agreed,” said Stethaniel, already thinking about his share of the reward.

Easton then told the group of what he learned from Sildar. Bentar and Theren were disappointed to learn that Sildar did not know the exact location where Gundren had been taken. Finding a lost keep in this area was going to take time to investigate. But they also agreed with Sildar that Gundren was most likely still alive after they learned that the map to the missing mine had been encoded. Bentar and Theren were also surprised to learn that another member of the Lord’s Alliance had gone missing around the time the Redbrands arrived in town. “See,” said Theren. “These bandits must be dealt with. They probably killed this other fellow when he stood up to them.” Theren’s anger began to rise the more he thought about the bandits preying on the poor townsfolk. His generally good-hearted nature would not allow him to stand by and watch such atrocities if there was anything he could do.

Stethaniel chimed in, “perhaps the owner of the local mining guild might have more information for us about the surrounding area. Old maps, and such. The guild operates as sort of central hub for the various prospectors and travelers that used to come through town and the proprietor may have more information than what I’ve picked up at the inn over the last few weeks. Plus, I heard a rumor that the bandits have given the guild a wide berth and left the proprietor alone. I am curious as to why this might be.”

“So am I,” said Easton. “Lead on, and take us to the guild.”

                                                                                               . . . to be concluded in Part 2.