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Lost Plot of Phandelver
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<blockquote data-quote="The Grassy Gnoll" data-source="post: 6536445" data-attributes="member: 6788652"><p><strong>Lost Plot of Phandelver: part 5</strong></p><p></p><p>Who the hell <em>are </em>these guys?</p><p></p><p>Not that I'm complaining mind you, I mean, being held captive by a bunch of stinking goblins for a day isn't my idea of fun. Nor is it good for my reputation - Sildar Hallwinter of the Lords' Alliance, bested by goblins? Caught unawares and trussed up ready for the pot? But, still. They make me nervous.</p><p></p><p>Of course, I remember them from when Gundren hired them to guard his wagon of mining gear. I certainly recall the Dragonborn well enough. Pandjead. Don't see many of his kind in Neverwinter. Just seemed like he wanted to get out of the city, like the smell of the place had gotten under his scales. I swear he would have taken half the fee on offer just to get into the fresh air again. Like a coiled spring he was, and half again as tall as the tallest man I've ever seen. "He'll do", Gundren had laughed. "Oh, yes, any bandits will think twice if they see this lad on guard!". I remember he slapped Pandjead's thick back then, and came away bruised. Watching him hold aloft the bugbear's severed, dripping head and hurl it with such force that is felled the goblin lieutenant was no stretch of the imagination. But his companions...</p><p></p><p>They seem changed, somehow. The little gnome, calls himself Wren, talks to me politely enough. But that thousand-yard stare... brr. This is what comes of being a ranger, out in the wild for so long, I guess. This is why I am a city man. You might lose your purse to a thief or be fleeced by the merchants in the market square, but you never get that look in your eyes.</p><p></p><p>Gundren had it, more or less, though it was different. Not the same faraway hardened stare but... like to the gold fever look, he had. Has! Not had. What am I saying? I know the bugbear and the goblin Yeemik talked about sending him (and his brothers' map) to someone called King Grol somewhere called Cragmaw Castle, so I have to pray that he still lives. Gods be thankful for distrustful Dwarves and their insistence in making maps in code! Else my companion would be dead and I next for the spit.</p><p></p><p>And the Druid, Simeon. I always thought of Druids as pipe-smoking old men who'd rather cuddle up with a conifer than lie in the arms of a good woman or clank a tankard with his brothers in arms. Gentle folk, with songbirds hanging out their washing for them in some bosky glade in the depth of the woods. But this one seems altogether more bloodthirsty. The way he charged at the falling Yeemik and cut his arm off with one slash of his scimitar seemed altogether...unnecessary. When Gundren hired him, he's explained that he was hoping to explore the area around Phandalin after the wagon was delivered: I assumed he was going to look for tree spirits to chant with, not monsters to murder. As I say, not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's just...unexpected.</p><p></p><p>And I'm sure it's not druidic of him to dice for the gold teeth they found in Yeemik's purse. The gnome seemed disgusted by the thought of taking someone's teeth and refused to play, but Pandjead and he happily gambled for these tiny trinkets on the floor of this grubby, foul-smelling cave, awash with blood and the stench of burning hair from the wolf they had thrown onto the fireplace during their fight with the bugbear. </p><p></p><p>And yet, he seems genuinely determined to inform the Lionshield Coster of the whereabouts of their goods. These goblins had been boasting of their raid and the amount of barrels and boxes they had stashed in the caves was...impressive. </p><p></p><p>They wish to do the right thing. They are escorting me and Gundren's wagon to town. They have vowed to find this Cragmaw Castle and rescue the Dwarf. They are determined to return the stolen goods to their rightful owners. And now, as the wagon rocks and bumps down the slope to Phandalin at dusk, they seem almost normal. </p><p></p><p>From where I lie in the back, bruised and battered from the treatment the goblins meted out, I can hear the druid and the gnome chatting away to themselves. They appear to be playing a game of chance of some sort with the oxen but I can't make out the details over the creak of the wheels. The dragonborn is walking behind as rearguard in case any of the goblins who fled in terror at the sight of Klarg's severed head crushing their boss' skull decide to sneak after us and get their revenge. Mind you, as we have got closer to the town, I've noticed he pays less attention to the woods and more to the curious pipe he carries with him. Every few steps he blows upon it and instead of music the pipe blows out bubbles. The massive Dragonborn barbarian, so frenzied just a few hours ago, seems curiously childlike as he watched the bubbles reflect the sunset off his scales.</p><p></p><p>More than just wagon-guards, and more than meets the eye, that's for sure. If anyone can help rescue Gundren and his map, it's these three strange companions. Maybe then, with the Lost Mine found, I can help civilise this backwater and bring the authority of the Lords' Alliance to bear in bringing prosperity to Phandalin once more.</p><p></p><p>But that is for another day. Tyr's tired arm, I look forward to a foaming mug of ale and a night in a good soft bed. </p><p></p><p>But I will be certain to lock the door. With these heroes, you can never be too sure...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Grassy Gnoll, post: 6536445, member: 6788652"] [b]Lost Plot of Phandelver: part 5[/b] Who the hell [I]are [/I]these guys? Not that I'm complaining mind you, I mean, being held captive by a bunch of stinking goblins for a day isn't my idea of fun. Nor is it good for my reputation - Sildar Hallwinter of the Lords' Alliance, bested by goblins? Caught unawares and trussed up ready for the pot? But, still. They make me nervous. Of course, I remember them from when Gundren hired them to guard his wagon of mining gear. I certainly recall the Dragonborn well enough. Pandjead. Don't see many of his kind in Neverwinter. Just seemed like he wanted to get out of the city, like the smell of the place had gotten under his scales. I swear he would have taken half the fee on offer just to get into the fresh air again. Like a coiled spring he was, and half again as tall as the tallest man I've ever seen. "He'll do", Gundren had laughed. "Oh, yes, any bandits will think twice if they see this lad on guard!". I remember he slapped Pandjead's thick back then, and came away bruised. Watching him hold aloft the bugbear's severed, dripping head and hurl it with such force that is felled the goblin lieutenant was no stretch of the imagination. But his companions... They seem changed, somehow. The little gnome, calls himself Wren, talks to me politely enough. But that thousand-yard stare... brr. This is what comes of being a ranger, out in the wild for so long, I guess. This is why I am a city man. You might lose your purse to a thief or be fleeced by the merchants in the market square, but you never get that look in your eyes. Gundren had it, more or less, though it was different. Not the same faraway hardened stare but... like to the gold fever look, he had. Has! Not had. What am I saying? I know the bugbear and the goblin Yeemik talked about sending him (and his brothers' map) to someone called King Grol somewhere called Cragmaw Castle, so I have to pray that he still lives. Gods be thankful for distrustful Dwarves and their insistence in making maps in code! Else my companion would be dead and I next for the spit. And the Druid, Simeon. I always thought of Druids as pipe-smoking old men who'd rather cuddle up with a conifer than lie in the arms of a good woman or clank a tankard with his brothers in arms. Gentle folk, with songbirds hanging out their washing for them in some bosky glade in the depth of the woods. But this one seems altogether more bloodthirsty. The way he charged at the falling Yeemik and cut his arm off with one slash of his scimitar seemed altogether...unnecessary. When Gundren hired him, he's explained that he was hoping to explore the area around Phandalin after the wagon was delivered: I assumed he was going to look for tree spirits to chant with, not monsters to murder. As I say, not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's just...unexpected. And I'm sure it's not druidic of him to dice for the gold teeth they found in Yeemik's purse. The gnome seemed disgusted by the thought of taking someone's teeth and refused to play, but Pandjead and he happily gambled for these tiny trinkets on the floor of this grubby, foul-smelling cave, awash with blood and the stench of burning hair from the wolf they had thrown onto the fireplace during their fight with the bugbear. And yet, he seems genuinely determined to inform the Lionshield Coster of the whereabouts of their goods. These goblins had been boasting of their raid and the amount of barrels and boxes they had stashed in the caves was...impressive. They wish to do the right thing. They are escorting me and Gundren's wagon to town. They have vowed to find this Cragmaw Castle and rescue the Dwarf. They are determined to return the stolen goods to their rightful owners. And now, as the wagon rocks and bumps down the slope to Phandalin at dusk, they seem almost normal. From where I lie in the back, bruised and battered from the treatment the goblins meted out, I can hear the druid and the gnome chatting away to themselves. They appear to be playing a game of chance of some sort with the oxen but I can't make out the details over the creak of the wheels. The dragonborn is walking behind as rearguard in case any of the goblins who fled in terror at the sight of Klarg's severed head crushing their boss' skull decide to sneak after us and get their revenge. Mind you, as we have got closer to the town, I've noticed he pays less attention to the woods and more to the curious pipe he carries with him. Every few steps he blows upon it and instead of music the pipe blows out bubbles. The massive Dragonborn barbarian, so frenzied just a few hours ago, seems curiously childlike as he watched the bubbles reflect the sunset off his scales. More than just wagon-guards, and more than meets the eye, that's for sure. If anyone can help rescue Gundren and his map, it's these three strange companions. Maybe then, with the Lost Mine found, I can help civilise this backwater and bring the authority of the Lords' Alliance to bear in bringing prosperity to Phandalin once more. But that is for another day. Tyr's tired arm, I look forward to a foaming mug of ale and a night in a good soft bed. But I will be certain to lock the door. With these heroes, you can never be too sure... [/QUOTE]
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