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."

Boggart nods his assent. "Owlbear first, then speaking. We could split up to talk to both Sildar and Daran at once, but that runs the risk of being caught out by these 'Redbrands', if they decide to harass us further. We shouldn't count on all of them being greenhorns that run at the sight of blood."

Now that you are safely back in Phandalin, you have several options.

You could (A) craft the items yourselves, using the materials you recovered from the owlbear. This would require the appropriate time and facilities, but the actual additional cost would be minimal—a negligible donation to a temple, smith, or other appropriate local service in exchange for the use of their facilities and assistance.

You could instead (B) find someone to craft the items for you. This would avoid the need for you to spend your own time on the work, but skilled craftsmen will expect payment. In general, you could expect to provide twice the materials required for the item to avoid crafting them. You will still have to wait, though, while they craft it.

You could also simply (C) sell all the harvested owlbear parts and turn the whole thing into coin. That would give you immediate value without delaying your other plans.

Or, of course, you can combine these approaches. You might keep the rare or particularly useful components for your own crafting, commission some items from a specialist, and sell whatever remains.

See this thread for the recipes and necessary time.

---

Igrem will insist in having the potions crafted. He will leave the decision concerning the weapons or armors to the others.

Requiring to provide twice the amount of material to have the items crafted by someone else could prove to be problematic, as there are only 2 eyes, and a limited number of talons. Igrem will lean into producing them himself.

Also, who would be a capable crafter in town, and how much would they be charging?

So let's start with the Greater Healing potions. Please roll 2d6 to see how many you can craft before they spoil.

Each potion takes 2 work shifts to prepare. The day has up to 4 work shifts, so this will certainly take a few days. Let's roleplay the scene: where you want to brew them, who among the other PCs (if any) will help, and how it will all unfold.

At the inn? At someone's house? There are no mechanical differences and all are possible but it certainly affects the story. Also, make an Influence check, please. =)

As for the darts, Qelline Alderleaf—a pragmatic halfling who is a farmer and a part-time smith (especially during the winter months, when she can't work the land)—might be able to help you. Whoever goes to see her, let me know, and we’ll roleplay.

Igrem will elect to work at the inn, not sure to know anyone in town well enough to work at their place. "Boggart, I'm going to work on potions as soon as I can. Will you assist?" he asks his companion, not wanting to sound too formal. He advises his other companions to meet Qelline the halfling, which would save time, then starts immediately to setup his tools in order to get to work.

"I will go speak with Dardan Edermath and stop by and talk with Qelline on the way." looking at Alex"Would like to join me? I don't think we should travel alone with the Rubberbands stalking town."

Stonehill Inn, Phandalin
Dusk, 3rd of Tarsakh
Igrem, you turn to Toblen and ask whether the inn has somewhere secluded where you could set up a temporary workspace and work with the preserved ingredients.

Toblen considers the question, then looks around his inn.

"Secluded? Not really. I've got the common room, the kitchen, the cellar, and the rooms upstairs. None of them were exactly designed for... whatever it is you're planning."

He pauses, looking at the strange assortment of parts you have brought back.

"But I suppose the rooms are better than nothing. If you need somewhere private, use yours. Keep the door shut, and don't spill anything on the furniture."

He gives you a slightly concerned look.

"I'd rather have you brewing whatever it is up there than setting up a laboratory in my common room."

So, with Toblen's "permission", your rooms can serve as a temporary laboratory. It isn't ideal, but it provides privacy, a place to work undisturbed, and enough space to begin crafting the potions without having to pay someone else or wasting twice the materials. You will start tomorrow morning.

Phandalin, Dawn, 4th of Tarsakh
Igrem, you make a short trip to Barthen's Provisions to purchase the tools and supplies you need for your temporary laboratory. After everything that has happened on the road and your encounter with the Redbrands at the town's entrance, you find yourself watching every alley, doorway, and passing stranger with suspicion.

Fortunately, your paranoia is not rewarded. The quick trip through Phandalin is completely uneventful. You reach the shop, make your purchases, and return to the Stonehill Inn without anyone bothering you or showing any particular interest in what you are carrying.

---

Boggart, you look around the cramped, dusty room as Igrem asks whether you will help with the work. It would certainly be useful to have the potions, but you think about working indoors...

Spending the whole day in such a dirty, cramped space does not sound particularly appealing...

---

Meanwhile, Redhawk and Alex, you make your way southeast of Phandalin toward the Alderleaf farm, looking for Qelline Alderleaf.

On your way, Redhawk, you realize that the darts should be simple enough to make yourself. A set of Woodcarver’s Tools would cost only 1 gp, and unlike a forge or other heavy equipment, the tools are small and portable enough to carry with you. You could even work on the darts during your travels, turning some of the owlbear’s talons into useful ammunition without having to remain in Phandalin.

Regardless, when you two arrive, you find Qelline busy with the morning's work. She notices you approaching the farm and pauses, looking you over. After a moment, she sets aside what she is doing and walks closer.

"Good morning," she says. "Can I help you with something?"

"Sure. I must stop at the Shrine of Luck to express my gratitude to my Lady of the Diamond-Glitter Dice for our, honestly, unexpected survival. We can do it on the way there or back, whichever makes more sense."

"Good morning and well met. I have a question you might be able to help with. Where would I find a buyer for an owlbear hide?"

Qelline’s eyebrows rise at the mention of an owlbear hide, and for a moment she simply looks at you, as though reconsidering what sort of stranger has just walked onto her farm. "An owlbear?" she asks, clearly impressed. "If you’ve actually killed one, that’s quite a feat."

She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. "Phandalin is too small for something like that. There aren’t enough folk here with the coin, or much use for a hide of that quality. Your best bet would be to find someone who can move it somewhere bigger like Neverwinter or Waterdeep, where there are armorers and adventurers who might pay properly for it."

She gestures toward town. "Try Linene Graywind at the Lionshield Coster. She runs the trading post, and she knows the merchants coming through here. I’d say she’s your best chance of getting a fair price without hauling the thing halfway across the Sword Coast yourself."

Redhawk will nod" It was a mighty battle. My friends and I took it down some distance from here.Thank you for the info. If we do manage to sell we might be in line for some new armor if you are interested in the work."

Qelline gives you an approving nod at that, her expression brightening at the prospect. "I might be," she says. "Though I should warn you, I’m not exactly running a full armorer’s shop here. Most of what comes my way is repairs and small jobs: fixing a hinge, replacing a bit of ironwork, hammering out a bent piece, making nails and the like. Enough to keep a farmer’s tools and equipment in working order."

She considers the offer for another moment before adding, "If you’re looking for proper armor, Linene may be able to help with that too. The Lionshield Coster brings armor and other goods in from the larger towns, so you’d probably find more selection there than anywhere else in Phandalin. But if you do end up needing something made, fitted, or repaired, I’d be happy to take a look."

Alex, you and Redhawk make your way through Phandalin toward the Lionshield Coster. Inside, crates, barrels, tools, and assorted goods are stacked wherever there is room, with the more valuable merchandise kept behind the counter. Linene Graywind, the sharp-eyed master of the Coster, looks up as you enter. She recognizes you both, and her gaze lingers briefly on Redhawk before settling on Alex.

"Good morning" she says. "What can I do for you?"

Meanwhile, Igrem, you set about preparing the ingredients for a Greater Healing Potion, with Boggart providing the assistance that the work requires. The room quickly takes on the smell of crushed herbs, heated reagents, and something distinctly more unpleasant as the owlbear meat is prepared.

Boggart is less than enthusiastic about the process, particularly when the work requires spending so many hours indoors. Still, he helps where needed, while you handle the more delicate parts of the brewing. The owlbear’s alchemical properties prove potent, and after careful preparation and a little patience, the mixture settles into a thick, crimson liquid.

You have successfully produced one Greater Healing Potion from the owlbear’s valuable components. 5 more to go.

Igrem will methodically proceed to the creation of the next potion, not wanting to let the owlbear meat spoil. He looks from time to time at the eyes of the creature, both floating in a jar on his table, wondering what he could do with them.

Alex offers Linene a courteous bow.

"Good morning, Mistress Graywind. My companions and I recently had the considerable misfortune—or perhaps the considerable fortune—to cross paths with an owlbear. Let me tell you that the creature is no longer in a position to object to our business arrangements."

He pauses.

"We have its hide, properly harvested, and we are looking for a buyer who might appreciate the value of such a thing. I was told you are the person in Phandalin most likely to know where such a prize might find a proper home. And, should the price be right, perhaps a few of the other useful pieces might find their way into the same bargain."

Linene steps out from behind the counter and folds her arms, looking between the two of you.

"An owlbear hide," she says. "Well, that is certainly not something that comes through my doors every day."

She considers the proposition for a few moments before nodding. "I could find a buyer for it, eventually. Waterdeep, Neverwinter, perhaps even Triboar. But transporting something like that costs money, and I have to make my own profit on the deal."

A pause.

"Still, I know valuable merchandise when I see it. I’ll offer you 400 gold pieces, plus 600 gold pieces’ worth of merchandise from the Coster."

She gestures around the shop. "Armor, weapons, shields, equipment—whatever we have in stock that comes close to that value. If you want something particular, we can see what I can get brought in from one of the larger towns."