2. Phandalin

Phandalin’s only temple is modest—little more than a small stone shrine assembled from blocks salvaged from the ancient ruins surrounding the town. Moss clings between the old stones, and colorful ribbons, copper coins, carved charms, and simple offerings hang from nearby posts and branches. Though humble, the place feels cared for. Peaceful, even.

At the center stands a small open alcove containing a polished symbol of Tymora: a silver-faced coin marked with the smiling profile of the Lady of Good Fortune while fresh flowers rest at its base.

As the group approaches, a young elf woman greets you. She wears simple but well-kept robes of blue and silver, with bright and welcoming green eyes.

She inclines her head and smiles.

"Welcome to the Shrine of Luck," she says warmly. "I am Sister Garaele, caretaker of this humble place and servant of Lady Tymora."

Alex strokes Gertrude's neck lightly and whispers "stay here, girl; I'll be back soon." Walking reverently up to the shrine, Alex stops, bows to Sister Garaele, and says "Hail, Luckbringer!" Reaching into his coin pouch, Alex pulls out not a silver, but a full gold, and makes it dance across his fingers, the sunlight turning into a rich yellow reflection across his hand. Flipping it elegantly to the priestess, he says "I have much for which to thank our Lady of the Diamond-Glitter Dice," and follows it with the classic Tymoran prayer: "a copper to the Lady returns tenfold in gold."

She inclines her head respectfully toward Alex and the others.

"Tymora favors the bold, though she rarely makes the road easy for them. Know that your offering is appreciated, both by this shrine and by the Lady herself. May luck continue to smile upon your paths."

She carefully adds the gold coin to the shrine’s offerings before turning back toward the group with a more thoughtful expression. She studies your travel-worn clothing, battered armor and weapons...

"As it happens, I may know of a task requiring courage… and perhaps a certain talent for persuasion and flattering difficult people."

She glances between the companions.

"If you are willing to hear more, I would gladly explain."

"Sounds like what we have been doing since we arrived in the vicinity... with some success it seems. Let's hear it." answers Igrem, looking interested.

Sister Garaele nods appreciatively at Igrem’s answer and motions for the group to step a little closer to the shrine, away from the muddy street and passing townsfolk.

"Recently," she begins quietly, "some patrons of mine entrusted me with a rather delicate mission. They seek the location of a spellbook once belonging to a legendary mage named Bowgentle. The trouble is that the only being known to possess this knowledge is a banshee named Agatha."

She pauses briefly before continuing.

"Agatha dwells alone in an old ruined place not far from here. I sought her out myself, hoping to persuade her to answer my questions… but, suffice to say, it didn't work."

Sister Garaele reaches carefully into a nearby satchel and withdraws a beautifully crafted silver comb set with small jewels that glitter softly in the sunlight.

"Agatha was vain in life," the elf explains. "Very vain, according to some tales. I believe an intermediary—someone possessing both courage, tact and… this… might succeed where I failed."

Her eyes drift meaningfully toward Alex for a brief moment.

"If presented properly, this comb may please her enough to earn a single truthful answer regarding Bowgentle’s spellbook."

A pause

"I will not pretend the task is safe. Agatha is a banshee, and such spirits are unpredictable. But if you are willing to attempt this on my behalf, I can offer you 3 healing potions and my gratitude."

Alex eyes light up at the prospect of serving his patron. Then suddenly, his face falls. Turning to the two comrades near him he says while I would thrilled to serve my Lady in any way she needs me, we told Master Sildar we would be back today and meet him in the inn. We must keep our words, no? Perhaps we can prevail on his patience yet again, but I, for one, would not want to be known as one who promises rashly and insincerely."

Were Boggart the same size as Alex, he'd clasp him on the shoulder; alas, he will have to settle for his thigh, instead. "Worry not, friend Alex. We can decide our course of action after listening to Sildar's proposal. Your piety is commendable."

The gnome turns to Sister Garaele and bows. "Hail, sister. I am Boggart Frimble, devoted of Mielikki. May I offer gifts from the Lady of the Woods?"

"Of course! The Lady of Forests and Lady Luck have long stood as friends to travelers, wanderers, and those who survive by courage and good fortune alike. All goodly gods are honored in this place. Phandalin is small, and folk here often pray to whichever divine power watches closest over their lives."

Then, glancing back toward Alex and Igrem, she nods thoughtfully.

"And your concern for keeping your word does you credit. Speak with whoever you wish. Agatha has haunted her ruin for many years already; a little longer will not matter."

Boggart's smile is a beam of sunlight. "Many thanks, sister."

The Lady of the Woods' Shepherd approaches the altar and kneels, placing his hands upon the earth, and speaks:

"Mielikki, Lady of the Woods, Daughter to Silvanus, Queen of the Forest, to thee I raise my voice. Let your blessings be upon this altar, and those who offer obeisance to it; give your favor to those who range to protect the forests, to the woodsman who tend it, and those seeking passage through your realm. Let all know of the bonds of friendship between the Lady of Fortune and the Lady of the Woods, and receive their bounty and protection. Let it be so."

A gentle breeze whips up luminous autumn leaves which swirls about on golden wind around the altar. Where it passes, grass and flowers bloom. Vines rise up on either side of the altar, from which hang silver petals in the shapes of coins entwined with others that look like the heads of unicorns with blue horns. All about there is the fluttering of pale butterflies.

Boggart stands once more and bows before rejoining his comrades. "I'm glad we came here." He smiles.

Igrem considers the words of Sister Garaele, then, reacting to Alex's concern, says: "Let's go meet Master Sildar. We can always go to this Agatha banshee later." turning to the Sister again, he asks: "Can we get the comb now? Or should we pass by here again later when we decide to pursue this endeavor?"

Sister Garaele shakes her head apologetically at Igrem’s question, carefully returning the jeweled silver comb to its padded case.

"I would prefer to keep the comb here until you are truly ready to undertake the task," she explains gently. "It is valuable, both materially and… diplomatically."

A faint smile crosses her face.

"And truthfully, I would ask some form of collateral before entrusting it to wandering adventurers. No offense intended."

---

With respectful farewells exchanged and Boggart’s blessings accepted warmly, the group departs the Shrine of Luck and makes their way back through the streets of Phandalin toward the Stonehill Inn.

However, upon arriving there, you quickly learn that Sildar Hallwinter is no longer spending his time at the inn. Toblen Stonehill cheerfully informs you that the veteran has already begun establishing himself at the Townmaster’s Hall.

"Seems he’s an important fellow."

The innkeeper lowers his voice slightly.

"Been talking with the townmaster, asking questions, trying to bring a bit more order to Phandalin from the look of it."

Apparently, Sildar has wasted little time making himself useful in town.

"Maybe we should go the Townmaster's hall? If you think that is the proper time to do it, that is." ponders Igrem, talking to Alex and the other party members.

Redhawk sees his companions enter and waves them over. After they sit and get some drinks he asks"Do you think we have to make an appointment to see the Townmaster?" He just shrugs because it is all new to him.

Alex agrees with Ingrem. "We should follow him to the town hall and keep our words. If he has need of us, we can decide then whether or not to commit, return to the Luckbringer, or even go our own ways."

The discussion continues over mugs of drink and a much-needed chance to sit somewhere that isn't a goblin cave, forest floor, or wagon bench.

Redhawk's question earns a few shrugs around the table. None of you have much experience with Phandalin’s town officials, and the idea of making an appointment to speak with a townmaster seems equally plausible and absurd depending on how you look at it.

Still, like Alex said, a promise is a promise.

With drinks finished and no better plan presenting itself, the group gathers their gear and makes their way through the muddy streets of Phandalin toward the Townmaster's Hall.

---

The townmaster’s hall has sturdy stone walls, a pitched wooden roof, and a bell tower at the back. Posted on a board next to the front door is a notice written in Common. It reads:

"REWARD—Orcs near Wyvern Tor! Those of a mind to face the orc menace should inquire within."

The notice bears the town’s seal and an indecipherable signature.

"Hobgoblins, banshees, orcs," Boggart says, putting up a finger for each threat, "and the business with master Sildar. Phandalin sure has it's hands full. It's a good thing we're here to help."

"Well, no point in dilly-dally, I reckon. Might as well get the full picture, as it were." He grins, a bounce in his step despite danger closing in on all sides.

Igrem nods at Boggart, while trying to open the front door and step into the town hall.

Alex is uncharacteristically quiet as he reads the notice. Nodding at Igrem and Boggart’s words, he follows them in, pensively.

Redhawk will follow the others. Seeing the notice he thinks to himself The only good orc is a dead orc. His village had many fights with orc raiders through the years.