Lost Mine of Phandelver

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The butcher is making a note to trade for some more pigs when Merimar enters and purchases another. The older man takes the offered gold, but grimaces in response to the half-orc's question.

"Well, no one in town like that I can think of, but ... uh ... please don't take this the wrong way, but it sounds like ... orcs? They've been a bit of a problem, not in town so much as along the road, hassling traders and such. Townmaster's looking for someone to deal with 'em, if you know anyone who wants some coin."
 
Merimar listened carefully, 'Sounds like one problem after another. First the Red brands, now a roaming band of orcs.' the cleric thought.

"It's okay," Merimar said, sensing the butcher's unease with describing the problem considering her own prominent heritage. "I might know some people who'd be interested," Merimar added, "Any idea how much coin the townmaster is offering?" she asked, figuring that was something Calal, Vutha, Fuska and Ioanin would be interested in knowing.
 
"If I recall it was about 100 gold. That one's been posted a while. Not many willing to go up into the mountains and take on a group of orcs." He disappears in the back and comes out with another pig on a short lead. "Rumor has it there's quite a few of 'em up there, and worse than orcs besides. They're driving up the price of trade around here, so you take care of that problem and you can have a pig on the house. Don't know what you're using so many for. Don't want to. But you're practically my best customer already."
 
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Merimar smiled as she accepted the lead, careful not to look the pig in the eye. 'I already feel guilty enough as it is sending two pigs to their fate,' Merimar thought.

"Thank you," Merimar said with a smile, "Blessings of The Shining One to you." With that, she headed back to where she'd left the group. 'I wish the wolves would eat something other than live meat,' Merimar thought, glancing down at the pig that was following the lead. 'But then, they're wild animals. Still hope we can befriend them. Would be useful. We've started so we should finish.'

As she came within earshot of the group, Merimar said. "The butcher thinks the description matches orcs. Apparently a few have been hassling the traders along the road. Townsmaster put up a bounty - one hundred gold - for solving the problem." Merimar nodded her head in the direction of the wolves' newest meal, "And the butcher said he'd throw in a free pig if we did it. Apparently we're his best customers."
 
As the group returns to town, they hear a man and woman loudly arguing. The woman, a halfling, is shouting angrily, trying to make herself heard, while the man, wearing a dirty red cloak, is trying to shush her. Three more men with the same cloaks are standing nearby, watching you, hands on the sword hits.

As the party gets nearer, the one harassing the halfling turns to them.

"Just who we was lookin' for, the new tourists! How abouts ya hand over yer stuff, and then be on yer merry way?"
 
Ioanin stopped telling a tale about the exploits of his people and raised an eyebrow at the bandits. "Doth my ears deceive me, or do the gutless worms before me seek a challenge with the Champion of Persana?" He burst out laughing as his allies sprang into combat. "Make peace with thine gods, for mine has none to spare!" He ran forward, drawing a javelin from his back and hurling it beyond his companion as he continued to rush into battle, unslinging the massive mossy patterned anchor-like weapon from his back. "Let my foes suffer Thine divine wrath!" The tip of the anchor seemed to glow a deep green, and the patterning on the blade rippled and shifted to the point as he cleaved it straight down on a bandit, not stopping until it buried into the ground. With a chuckle, he pulled out the pick and gave it a spin, ready to strike down his next opponent before seeing Vutha knock out the last bandit. "Well done, comrades. Justice has swiftly been dispatched upon those deserving of it, now let us have a small chat with thy new friend about his compatriots."
 
Having managed to miss her shot at one of the Redbrands, Merimar reloaded her crossbow before realising that the fight was effectively over.

"So these are the Redbrands," Merimar said, "From what I heard, they're behind some pretty nasty crimes. Disappearances, murders. Might be worth asking this captive what he knows of them, when they wake up."

'Along with why they were seeking us out to begin with.' Merimar added in her mind.
 
Ioanin watched as Fuska lifted the bandit by his ankles and grinned, nodding to the warrior. "Thine mallet struck true in battle, my friend. May Persana grant thou reprieve from thine wounds." He pat the goliath on the rear, and an oddly chilling energy flowed from the triton's hands, curing his wounds. He then turned to their captive with a sneer, eyeing him up and down before smacking the bandit awake. "There shall be no rest for the wicked, evil doer. Spill thine secrets before I spill thine blood, my Lord cares not which He claims!" He pulled out a small dagger that seemed to be made for descaling fish. "I must warn thou, He shall collect His due slowly and very painfully."
 
"I'm n-not afraid of you," he says, although the sweat dripping from his brow suggests otherwise. Then he lays eyes on the knife.

"OK fine. I'll tell you what you want to know. Just ... don't stab me with that thing."
 
Calal takes a sharp breath, normally nervous features forced to harden as he raised his head up and stalked forward. "where are the rest of you? Who is your leader? Where do you come from?" He growls, "how many of you are there? What is your goal?"
 
The thug recoils in surprise as Calal asks his questions rapid fire.

"Our base is up in Tresendar Manor, but I wouldn't go up there if I were you. We're getting new members all the time, including bugbears! And our leader Glasstaff is an evil mage. You're no match for him! And then there's the Black Spider. He wants this town under control ... uh, I don't know why but you don't argue with the Black Spider."
 
Listening to the captive, something clicked in Merimar's mind. She smiled and stepped up alongside Ioanin and Calal.

"Bugbears, eh? Does the name Klarg mean anything to you?"
 
"Klarg? Sounds familiar. Heard the other ones ... say he's a lunatic." His eyes roll in his sockets. "Uhhhh ... could you put me down? Think I might ... pass out."
 
Merimar grinned, "I don't see why not, considering this powerful warlock right here," the Half-Orc patted Calal's shoulder, "Took out that 'lunatic' bugbear in one shot. Make of that what you will."
 
Calal tilts his head. "Anything you're not telling us? I'll know, and I will not hold them back. I will show you exactly what I did to him."
 
"That's all I know, I swear! Please, I've told you everything. Just let me go!"

As he begs for his life, people hesitantly enter the street to see the commotion. Vutha notices Sister Garaele watching them, an approving smile on her face. The halfling woman also picks herself up and begins to thank you profusely.

"Thank you so much. If you hadn't come along I would have ended up like poor Thal."

She brushes the dirt off her dress.

"If there's anything I can do repay you, please let me know. It's nice to have real heroes around to stick up for people ... SINCE NO ONE ELSE WILL!" The last part she yells at the townspeople in the street.
 
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As Vutha and Merimar step away from the aftermath of the battle, Sister Garaele approaches.

"That was quite a performance. It's comforting to have such skilled warriors in town with those filthy Redbrands running about. And skilled at getting answers, too. I wonder if you might be willing to help me with a particular task. My, ah, superiors asked me to do it, but I'm afraid I botched it the first time around and you only really get one shot at this."

She steps closer and pulls a jeweled comb from the bag, holding it where you can see it but no one else.

"If you're willing, I'd like you to travel to a location somewhat nearby and trade this for an answer about a specific item we're seeking."
 
Collecting her arrow after the fight, Vutha had stood off to the side to watch the interrogation and when they finished didn't move to follow. The scale-less needed to be protected -- the ones she'd decided to take under her wing -- but she felt as though she was being put to the side. If she was not needed then she had other things she could do.

With a low hiss she put her things away and raised the hood of her crude clothing, not keen for conversation but noticed Merimar seemed to follow her all the same. A voice approached as well, one Vutha vaguely recognized, her head turned slightly to look at the woman. "If village had fighter-caste would not need traveling warriors." In a clawed hand she lifted one of the red cloaks she had collected, "Not fear pests."

Letting the fabric drop she continued walking, hunched slightly, "Did not ask anything. Only watch. Go speak to others if want words." Vutha glanced at the comb, "Why not go to temple for 'guidance'. Your 'luck' not work?" Her lips raised slightly, her equivalent of a frown, "What considered 'nearby'. What item."
 
Fuska charged into battle with a determined expression on his face, shrugging off a few strikes as he returned the blows with his warhammer. His blood was pumping as he fought, adrenaline coursing through his body as the Goliath ensured he did not make the same mistake as his last combat.

When the last one fell and the others looked to question the red cloaked individual, Fuska once again picked the victim up by his ankles to disorient them as they were interrogated. Fuska grew bored of the questioning after they figured out where these Redbrand we’re located, and he dropped the man onto his face in the dirt. He noticed Meri and Vutha wandering away, talking to some women so he faced his other companions. “Okay. Tresendar Manor. Wanna leave in the morning?”
 
The acolyte frowns.

"Had I known this particular banshee required payment I would have been more prepared, hence my predicament." Sister Garaele pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues. "All you have to do is find her -- there's a trail that leads northwest out of Conyberry -- and give her the comb, then ask her where Bowgentle's spell book is. Simple as that. I don't have gold, but I can give you a few healing potions, and surely you adventuring types have need of those."
 
Ioanin smiled to the halfling woman and bowed to her. "Twas merely all in a days work, milady. The knowledge that the great Ioanin Flynn and his companions were able to help such a fine young lady is reward enough to me." As he heard the thud of a half dead man's body colliding with the harsh ground, he nodded to his large companion. "That is a sentiment upon which I find myself in agreement. For now, however, what are we to do with this lout? Back home, we would string him up in waters infested with the worst terrors the Bitch Queen herself could spawn, and yet here I find us lacking in sufficient quantities of eldritch horrors. I suppose those 'wolves' thy possesses might serve as punishment enough... or is there some figure of authority to which we might bring him to for judgement?"
 
Vutha's lips raised further, "A weeping death." She glanced towards Merimar, "She asks a simple favor, yes? Conyberry is a day of travel itself, to deal with dead could be a life itself." With a claw Vutha pointed to the comb, "How sure this enough. What special about book. Who was weeping death to be special."

Closing her lips she gave a low rumble, "Life too easily lost if too quick to pounce. Study, consider if prey worth risk." Her tail swept behind her as she continued, "Have many tasks already." Her head turned so she could look at Merimar. "What think."
 
Sister Garaele slowly considers Vutha's words, wanting to fully understand and reply carefully so nothing is lost in the translation.

"The banshee's name is Agatha. She's fairly harmless, more likely to disappear than fight if you cross her. I think if you're polite and you appeal to her vanity with some jewelry she ought to cooperate. Couldn't tell you why the book is important. All I know is I was supposed to get it and I failed. Luckily, Tymora sent you to Phandalin."
 
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Seeing Vutha starting to peel off from the group, Merimar decided to go with her. 'If the Redbrands have set up one ambush,' the cleric reasoned with herself, 'then they may have set up more. I don't think its a good idea anyone goes around town alone and the others seem like they'll be occupied dealing with the prisoner.'

As another woman whom Merimar did not know approached, Merimar listened carefully to what was said. 'Huh. Follow a trail, give a banshee a comb, ask for the whereabouts of a spellbook and get healing potions.' the cleric of Pelor summarised in her mind.

"Seems simple enough." Merimar said in agreement with Vutha before listening. While Vutha was a woman of few words, those words were seldom spent in vain.

"Vutha's right," Merimar said, choosing her words carefully, "We've already got a lot of tasks already. Especially since the prisoner said that the Redbrands had taken prisoners of their own at the manor. They'll probably retaliate for our actions, so that might not be able to wait."

Looking the woman over, Merimar saw a holy symbol and from the way she talked about Tymora, Merimar could sympathise with the fellow holy woman. "Is there a time limit on this? A few extra healing potions would be good and we'd need to run it past the rest of our party but it seems straightforward enough." Looking to the fellow holy woman, Merimar added, "Though I am curious, why would Agatha disappear rather than fight? How did she die?"
 
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Garaele shrugged.

"I don't know how she died. All I know is she's a vain creature more interested in being fawned over and given gifts than fighting. Perhaps she accidentally strangled herself while fixing her hair." The acolyte grins before catching herself.

"But no, no time limit. The spellbook was lost a long time ago so wherever it is, it's not going anywhere. You'd just be doing me a favor since I messed it up the first time." Garaele sighs and purses her lips, folding her arms. "I may have called her an ugly old spectre the first time, so she won't talk to me again."
 
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