4. Phandalin's Redbrand Ruffians

Phandalin, Late Afternoon, 3rd of Tarsakh
Igrem, your threat earns little more than a few dark looks from the ruffians. They don't seem impressed by your confidence, and the mention of your friends only seems to reinforce their decision that you need to be taught a lesson.

"Big words."

They advance together, weapons coming free as they close the distance. They aren't trying to negotiate anymore. Whatever they expected from a group of strangers entering town, it wasn't resistance, and now they seem determined to make an example of you.

Alex, you can immediately tell that something is wrong with the ruffians' bravado. Their words may sound confident, but their body language tells a different story. Igrem's threats have rattled them more than they want to admit; they are afraid.

And yet, they keep advancing.

"Be at peace, fellows," Boggart says, and his voice carries the smell of lavender on a gentle breeze over the crowd. Wildflowers bloom at his feet and spread quickly outwards as he steps forward. "We have seen enough violence these past days. There is no need for conflict; first meetings are a joyous time. Come - lay down your arms and let us greet each other as friends."

Redhawk sees the advance and will mark R1. He will then let his nocked arrow fly at R1. Then rapidly nock another and let fly at R1.

Redhawk, you mark the first man as your Hunter’s Mark, draw, and let your arrow fly. It strikes him squarely in the belly.

Before he can even recover, you rapidly nock another arrow and fire again. The second arrow finds the same target, burying itself in his stomach beside the first. The man staggers, his face twisting in shock and pain, and then he collapses to the ground.

Boggart, your words of peace are drowned out by the sudden violence. The wildflowers at your feet tremble in the breeze and the man's cry shows sheer panic.

But whatever nerve the others had left is broken. Two of the ruffians immediately turn and flee, abandoning their wounded companion without a second thought.

The remaining ruffian hesitates, then rushes toward the fallen man. He drops beside him and tries desperately to help, pressing his hands against the wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Boggart and Puck dash over to the fallen man and drops to his knees. He presses his palms, aglow with soft golden light, against the man's wounds. A bloom of fragrant flowers and ghostly butterflies spreads beneath them as wounds knit back together.

"There we are, fit as a fiddle. Now, what's all this about?" Boggart says.

Boggart, you and Puck dash toward the fallen man, and as you drop to your knees beside him, the smell immediately hits you. It is awful. The first arrow has torn through his intestines, while the second has pierced his stomach. Blood mixes with the contents of his gut, spilling across his clothes and the ground beneath him. The surviving ruffian looks horrified as he tries to keep pressure on the wounds, clearly expecting his companion to die.

Then your palms begin to glow with soft golden light. You press them against the wounds, and the familiar scent of your magic spreads outward. A bloom of fragrant flowers and ghostly butterflies appears beneath you as flesh knits back together, the bleeding slows, and the terrible wounds close.

The foul smell vanishes almost as quickly as it came, replaced by the clean scent of fresh-cut grass and wildflowers.

The man takes a deep, shaky breath and stares down at his own stomach in disbelief. He touches the places where the arrows had entered, finding nothing but torn cloth and tender flesh.

"Gods... thank you." He looks at you with genuine gratitude. "Without that, I would've died. Blood loss, infection... maybe something worse. I don't know how you did it, but you saved my life."

He glances toward the direction his companions fled, then back at you.

"My name's Jace. That's my brother, Dalen." He gestures toward the other ruffian, who is still crouched nearby. "We're Redbrands. Well... we are now."

He seems almost embarrassed by the admission, but continues.

"The Redbrands run Phandalin now. Our leader is a human wizard called Glasstaff. That's what everyone calls him because his magic staff is made of glass." He swallows, clearly still shaken. "He's powerful. Powerful enough that nobody in town wants to cross him."

Jace looks toward the buildings of Phandalin.

"We usually stay at the Sleeping Giant. That's where the Redbrands drink, meet, and... well, make sure everyone remembers who's in charge."

He looks down again at his miraculously healed wounds, then back at Boggart and Redhawk.

"Thank you. You didn't have to save me. After what he did, I thought I was dead."

Looking at Jace"What has happen to Master Sildar and Master Harbin?"

Redhawk, Jace swallows hard and glances at your bow before answering, clearly still afraid of you.

"They're both in the Townmaster's Hall," he says.



"Harbin still tries to do his job, I suppose. Settles little disputes, keeps the records, that sort of thing. He was elected, but..." Jace gives a nervous shrug. "He doesn't really have any power. No army, no guards, not even a proper militia. And after the Redbrands took the streets a couple of days ago, well... he's completely intimidated."

Dalen looks toward the nearest building before lowering his voice and joining the conversation

"Harbin is a banker. He says everyone should just leave us alone. Says we're only a mercenary guild and ‘not that much trouble, really.’"

He gives an uneasy, short, little laugh.

"Nobody believes that, of course. But nobody's eager to argue with him about it either. As for Sildar..."

He hesitates.

"He's old. He can't exactly stand against Glasstaff and a dozen or so strong men with weapons. Maybe he's plotting something. Maybe he's waiting for an opportunity. I don't know. But so far, he hasn't done anything."

Igrem puts his hood on his head and lets the conversation unfold for a while. "Yet another complication. We seem to be piling them up, one on top of the other at this stage." He turns to his companions, especially Alex. "We won't be able to solve this immediately, I guess. Let's try to find a place to stay, probably not the Sleeping Giant, and deal with these never-do-well's and Sildar later. What do you all think?"

"I agree," Boggart says as he stands up. "We need to make sure the farmers are safe before we can deal with this, at the very least. Let's do what we came here to do as quick as we can."

With few appealing options, you settle on the same place you used before: the Stonehill Inn. It is still a modest, welcoming establishment. Rough wooden tables fill the room, with miners, farmers, and road-worn travelers coming and going throughout the day.

The young barmaid moves between the tables with her usual energy, quick with her hands and even quicker with her eyes, catching scraps of conversation as she serves drinks. She seems to know everyone's business, whether they intend her to or not.

Behind the sturdy counter stands Toblen Stonehill, a young human man with a friendly, open face and an easy posture. He runs the inn with his wife and is from Triboar. The inn offers simple, honest food and rooms for travelers.

Toblen remembers Redhawk from his earlier visit. Redhawk had complimented the local honey mead and asked about venison. Toblen had explained that there was no venison or boar available, though he would happily buy any fresh game Redhawk brought back from hunting.

Redhawk will order a mead"Well met Master Stonehill. No game this time we were busy fighting Wargs." He will take a drink of his mead "We also killed an Owlbear. It was a pretty busy time." Another drink of mead."What has happened to Phandalin in our short time away?"

Stonehill Inn, Phandalin
Dusk, 3rd of Tarsakh
Redhawk, you order a mead, and Toblen pours it for you. When you ask what has happened to Phandalin, his expression becomes guarded.

"The Redbrands."

He says the name quietly, glancing around the common room before continuing.

"I came here to prospect, you know. Thought I'd make my fortune in the mines. But I soon realized I knew a lot more about running an inn than I ever did about mining." He gives a small shrug. "Phandalin was growing, and it seemed like a good place to put down roots. So I opened this place with my family."

His eyes drift toward the common room, where the usual conversations continue.

"But these Redbrands..." His jaw tightens. "They've been allowed to terrorize the town. Harbin Wester could have done something. He's the townmaster, isn't he? But he hasn't. Not a thing."

Toblen lowers his voice further.

"And that's what makes me angry. We came here because this was supposed to be a place where people could build something. Work, trade, raise their families. Now everyone has to watch what they say and who they cross."

He pauses, then looks toward the stairs leading to the rooms above.

"But I've got a wife and children upstairs." His voice loses some of its anger. "I'm not going to stir up trouble if it means those men might decide to retaliate against them. I can complain all I want, but it won't be me who pays the price if they decide to make an example of my family."

For a moment, Toblen simply looks tired. Then he straightens, puts on a broad, practiced, forced smile, and gives the counter an unnecessary wipe.

"So... welcome back to Phandalin! Can I serve you some bread for supper?"

"Bread sounds wonderful my good sir."Under his breath Redhawk will ask"Do you know how many of these thugs there are? We met a few coming in to town an I put a couple arrows in one and they ran off pretty quick."

Toblen brings over a basket of bread and sets it down with the mead, then leans closer to talk to Redhawk.

"They mostly stay at the Sleeping Giant," he murmurs. "That's their place, as far as I know."

At the mention of how many there are, Toblen shakes his head.

"I honestly don't know. A dozen, perhaps? More? They don't all show themselves at once, and I try not to count them too closely." His eyes flick toward the door before returning to Redhawk. "If you want numbers, Sildar might know more. Or Daran Edermath, he keeps the Edermath orchard. He's an old adventurer himself, and if anyone has been paying attention to what these Redbrands are doing, it would be him."

"We have an existing relationship with Sildar which we should use, I reckon. Moreover, I suggest we decide how much of the owlbear carcass we keep and sell the rest posthaste before these Rudolphs, or Rednoses, or whatever they call themselves decide to 'tax' us."

Igrem listens intently to what the inn keeper has to say. Once he is finished, he says to his companions: "I guess the first order of business is to deal with the Owlbear. Next, maybe we can pay a visit to this Daran Edermath?"

Redhawk will nod"Sounds like good order. We need to get the armor and potions and darts made. We could probably get that going and then make our visit."