2. Phandalin

The rutted track emerges from a wooded hillside, and you catch your first glimpse of Phandalin. The town consists of forty or fifty simple log buildings, some built on old fieldstone foundations. More old ruins—crumbling stone walls covered in ivy and briars—surround the newer houses and shops, showing how this must have been 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 toward a ruined manor house on a hillside at the east side of town.

As you approach, you see children playing on the town green and townsfolk tending to chores or running errands at shops. Many people look up as you approach, but all return to their business as you go by.

Sildar seems much more at ease.

"My friends," he says, "let us secure lodgings. I’m told the local inn, Stonehill Inn, is very quaint."

Redhawk has never seen so many buildings in one place. "This place is huge. I have never seen so many buildings."He has never been to inn. There is no inn at Raventree there are never travelers who come to stay because they are self sufficient. "I have never been to an inn. I would like to see this Stonehill Inn"

"I'm with Redhawk; it's been aaaaages since I've been to town. Might as well sample the local fare!" Boggart says, and stretches as he walks. Plant life seems more vibrant where he steps and a couple of white butterflies flutter around him. "I've got a good feeling about this place." he says.

Alexander Simonnet Natalis de Bertier du Puy was not a happy young man. A simple guard run, they said. Just walk next to the wagon to Phandalin, they said. Easy money, they said. What balderdash and poppycock! First the ambush, then the wolves, then skulking around a goblin cave, and finally that hideous bugbear! At this, Alex shudders in reminiscence. The jittering sets off a pleasant jingly counterpoint to his macabre musings. Well, in fairness, I did receive reasonable recompense, he continues, thinking of the bright yellow shine of the Waterdhavian dragons with which he was paid. For that matter, I also did get an up-close-and-personal tutorial on the art of striking from the shadows, he muses. Leveraging an opponents distraction proved to be a real lifesaver in that cave!.

Continuing into Phandalin, Alex ask Sildar, Master Sildar, being this is my first sojourn to this fine town, would you kindly inform me as to the location of both the local weaponsmith and possibly an appraiser of fine jewelry?

"Spending some time in the local Inn is a good idea. I certainly need the rest." approves Igrem, reassured by the existence of some kind of civilization in these wild parts. He figures he will have time to study as well, as some new understanding of the magical matters is forming in his mind.

Sildar leads the way, guiding you up the gentle rise toward the heart of the settlement. Ahead, a sturdy structure of fieldstone and timber comes into view—the Stonehill Inn. Warm light spills from its windows, and the muted murmur of voices promises rest, food, and perhaps a measure of safety after the cave's dangers.
"Sure. Let me just eat and drink something and I can show you around." - He answers

---

As you approach, Alex’s attention is caught by something just off the main path—a modest wooden trading post bearing a sign. Painted upon it, though weathered, is a clear and deliberate image: a silver lion rearing proudly against a blue field.

Recognition comes easily. The mark of the Lionshield Coster that you found in those goods.

---

Meanwhile, Sildar enters the Inn. Inside, the common room is lively but not rowdy. A handful of rough wooden tables are scattered across the floor, most occupied by miners, farmers, and a few road-worn travelers. A couple of locals glance up as you enter—measuring, curious—but their attention soon drifts back to their drinks.

Near the hearth, an older farmer sits hunched over his drink, his weathered face lined from years in the fields. Not far from him, a miner—broad-shouldered and dust-stained—leans back in his chair, boots stretched out.

Behind the bar moves a lively young barmaid, quick with her hands and quicker with her eyes. She drifts easily between tables, catching scraps of conversation as she delivers drinks, clearly the sort who knows everyone’s business whether they intend her to or not.

At one of the sturdier tables sits an old weaver, her posture attentive as she quietly observes the room. There’s a sense that little escapes her notice.

Behind a sturdy counter stands the proprietor, a young human man with a friendly, open face and an easy posture. He is pouring drinks and exchanging quiet words with patrons. His eyes flick toward you as you enter, and he offers a small, welcoming nod.

Redhawk will move to the counter"Well met good sir. I will have a glass of mead if you have some." Looking around"Nice place you have here."

The man offers an easy, genuine smile.

"Well met, friend," he replies, voice warm and welcoming. "A fine choice." He turns briefly, reaching beneath the counter before producing a clay bottle and a clean mug. With a practiced hand, he pours a golden stream of mead before sliding the drink across the bar.

"We don’t get as many travelers as we used to," he continues, leaning lightly against the counter, "so it’s always good to see new faces."

"Name’s Toblen Stonehill, from Triboar. My wife and I run the place. If you’re looking for a meal or a room, you’ve come to the right spot—simple fare, but honest."

"Thank you Master Stonehill. What is on the menu? Do you have any venison?" as he picks up his cup of mead and takes a sip."Very good. They honey is just right."

Alex turns to Igrem and says "Do you see that shield, azure, a lion rampant argent? That's the same symbol that was painted on all those boxes back at the goblin cave. They must be the owners. Perhaps there is a reward for information on the missing shipment? I'm going to go in and see for myself. Do you want to come with me or head straight for the inn with Master Sildar?

---

Meanwhile
Toblen chuckles softly at the compliment, clearly pleased, and gives a small appreciative nod. "Glad you like it—local honey. Makes all the difference."

At the mention of venison, his expression turns just slightly apologetic. He rubs the back of his neck before answering.

"Ah… I’m afraid not. No venison, and no boar either, unfortunately." He gestures vaguely toward the kitchen.
"Had some fine sheep meat not long ago—brought in for the Spring Equinox. Sold through it quicker than I expected." He gives a small shrug. "Might have more in a few days, if the right folk come through with supply."

Then his eyes flick back to Redhawk with a hint of interest.

"Course… if you’re the hunting sort," he adds, "I’d be more than happy to buy what you bring in. Fresh game’s hard to come by these days, and I pay fair coin for good meat."

Redhawk will nod "I will take a bowl of whatever stew you have."He will then look to Sildar"How long will we be in town? Master Stonehill asked if I could do some hunting for him,"

"Sure, I will go with you. That might prove to be an interesting conversation." answers Igrem, always kin to follow his friend.

"A few days, at the very least. I have to rest, restock and search Phandalin for signs of Iarno Albrek before we leave to search for Gundren."

---

Alex, Igrem, the Lionshield Coster trading post is orderly, almost to a fault. Shelves line the walls, stocked with goods—coils of rope, iron pots, bundles of cloth, and neatly arranged tools. Crates sit stacked in careful rows, each marked and sealed with the blue shield and white lion, though a few gaps here and there suggest inventory that never arrived.

Behind a sturdy counter stands a woman in her mid-thirties, her posture straight and her expression sharp. Her eyes flick up the moment the door opens, assessing, measuring. She sets down the ledger she’d been reviewing, one hand resting lightly on the counter.

"You’re not locals," she says plainly, her tone direct. "Which means you’re either here to buy… or you’ve got business worth my time. Welcome! Which is it?"

Alex enters the building and gazes around. As much as I need the money, the goods are theirs. It would be beneath me to extort the coster. Oh well, ‘tis better for my soul it is. Alex then whispers a prayer to his patron oh lady of the glittering dice, I go to boldly return these goods to their owners; a touch of your grace in making a good impression upon them would be most appreciated,
Alex walks swiftly and confidently up to the counter and bows lightly from the waist. Greetings, mistress, and luck be with you on this fine day. As you have so astutely surmised, we are newcomers to this fine town. While the journey here was mostly pleasant, we did have a little, contretemps shall we say, with a most annoying band of goblinoid raiders who had the sheer gall to abduct our own patron! In the process of dispatching these heinous kidnappers and their nefarious bugbear leader, we did stumble across their cache of ill-gotten goods, amongst which were strewn a host of boxes and containers all bearing the noble mark of your fine establishment Now, perhaps some less fine and more mercenary creatures would stoop to crass means of extortion to benefit from your apparent discomfort. But not I, Alexander Simonnet Natalis de Bertier du Puy!

Alex then proceeds to describe the cave’s location, the location of the stash within the cave, and the political structure of the new goblin queen and her court, or should it be harem. While forthright, he does slightly play up the danger that his party went through in order to bring this news to the coster, in hope of some form of voluntary offer of a finders fee [Influence Roll]. If he gets nothing, so be it. He will have done a good deed.

Alex and Igrem
Linene Graywind listens without interruption.

At first, her expression is guarded—arms loosely folded, eyes narrowed slightly as Alex launches into his elaborate account. But as he continues—mentioning the crates, the markings, the location—her posture shifts. The sharp skepticism gives way to something more focused… and interested.

By the time he finishes, she’s no longer leaning back. Instead, both hands rest flat on the counter, her gaze fixed squarely on him.

"You found them!" she says, not quite a question.

A brief pause follows as she studies his face, weighing tone against detail, confidence against embellishment.

"So… If what you’re telling me is true," she continues, her voice firm and businesslike again, "then you’ve done me—and the Lionshield—a considerable service. That caravan was overdue. I figured bandits, but goblins…"

She shakes her head slightly.

"I’ll pay you fifty gold for the information—once it’s confirmed by an independent adventurer that brings my goods back" she says plainly. "Fair coin for a lead like that."

She straightens, already shifting into logistics.

"But if you bring them here, intact, I’ll make it worth your while beyond the 50 gold. I can offer you a horse… or, if you’ve more to haul, a wagon with a mule to pull it."

Redhawk will look to master Stonehill"Seems we will be in town for a few days so I would be happy to do some hunting for you. I feel a bit pent up in town."

That is a most generous offer, ma'am. Would you please forgive me a moment whilst I confer with my esteemed colleague? Alex turns to Igrem and asks quietly, Igrem, my friend, do you think that Queen Nott would let us take the goods, or should we allow the coster to assume that risk? Alex himself thinks back over the situation, considering that perhaps the Queen and her court would be too…involved…in other matters to notice.

"I think that could work, but that might take some persuasion. I still don't know how much we can trust that goblin band as a whole, regardless of the new Queen. We don't even know how much influence she has over the others yet." He ponders for a while. "Let's try it. We should bring the others with us, for additional muscle, though."

It is still obvious in his behavior that the mage does not completely trust the goblins still.