Wand’ring and Trading

We slept a few miles away from the cave to make sure, none of the orcs would be paying us a deathly visit during the night. And a beautiful night it was, a clear, star studded sky sparkled high over our small camp site. This close to the mountains, not many forest animals were foraging anymore, also reducing the danger of any predators setting their eye upon us. As was his daily routine, Archie quickly went about setting traps all around us for even more safety while Grum and Nysqwen handled dinner preparations. All I could do to not feel in their way was to fill the empty air around us with some notes, a first attempt to capture our deed of cleansing the orc band. Luckily, they seemed to appreciate my efforts, reducing my feeling of being the lazy one out. After the troubles of the day, everyone was tired and thus tranquillity quickly settled as one after the other fell asleep.
 
On the next day we decided, if we were to travel in the direction of Thundertree next, we might as well stop at Old Owl Well to see what Hammun had to say to our dealing with the orcs. Once we arrived at his tent, the previous chill of unease clambered back into my spine as again we were faced with his undead, silent followers before Hammun himself exited into the yard. His expressionless face did not move or otherwise reveal his thoughts during our tale. Yet he seemed somewhat pleased, maybe even surprised at our help with his affairs. Still he would not let on about what he was actually searching. Nonetheless he offered us a reward, where none was agreed upon before. He gave us a choice between a sealed tubemade from a single bone, likely fitting parchment scrolls of some variety, as Grum had seen him studying some of its contents the night he snuck into his tent, and a smaller wooden and richly decorated box. What might have been in it we will probably never know, as after some debate we settled for the scrolls. My thought was, we were none too poor to require a monetary compensation at this point. Rather I would have liked to learn something about this man or his research. Archie tended rather to the small casket but after some convincing he acquiesced.
Within the tube we found indeed three scrolls, yet to my astonishment, I could only read a single one. It was a type of scroll I had only heard about before. It carried a spell, one that I might only describe as being capable to destroy another spell. For some reason the author had written in bold letters “Dispell Magick” on its very top. Presumably an odd naming convention within the circles of the necromancer. There was no doubting the authenticity of the scroll, it brimmed with magical energy. From what I heard, such scrolls may only be used once, we may get good value out of this use though, should we face even more dangerous encounters than before.
Archie could identify the other two parchments as one scroll of “Day-light” and one of “Dethward”. Being able to light a dark place or even avoid a fatal blow at the right moment again seems to be quite powerful. For want of a better explanation I assume that Hammun may have crafted these himself. If that is indeed the case, he is quite a capable scholar! Let’s hope we won’t have to face him head on in a battle.
 
As Hammun did not come across any more talkative than at our first encounter, we quickly were on the trail out of the valley. At some point a gigantic bird, possibly an eagle, passed over our heads but did not take any notice of our party. We travelled for the rest of the day until in the evening, we finally emerged from the mountainous region and came in sight of the Triboar Trail once more.
 
During the night we all were suddenly awoken by a terribly loud thunder rolling through our camp. As Nysqwen, Archie and I emerged from our camps, still in night gowns but weapons at the ready, we found Grum standing near our campfire with outstretched arms. He told us he was being attacked by animals he called stirges. These creatures resemble some disturbing combination between a large mosquito and a bat and were probably attracted by the smell of our warm blood. Grum’s thick skin displayed some nasty wounds, were three of the animals hat bored their probosces into his body. Knowing only a soft tune that I have felt lessening physical pain, I tried to alleviate his struggles. On the next morning, after ha hearty breaktfast provided by Nysqwen (yes, dragonborn CAN cook, quite well at that), my old friend appeared as good as new and thus we continued on the Trail. Our rations were dwindling and with the intend to also speak to the respective inhabitants about our successful quests, we decided to make halt in Phandalin before turning northward.
 
It must have been around noon when we discovered a lone wanderer with his cart approaching us on the road from the direction of Phandalin. It was not long before we also could here him sing to himself a merry tune, very common amongst travellers. I could not help myself, I just had to join in his singing. He did not stop in his verses, although he first looked surprised but then his smile grew ever wider as we fuelled each other to ever greater fervency before ending on a beautiful, long halted note. The cheerful man introduced himself as Tiblen, a pedlar and traveling craftsman. While from the first moment he was easy to embosom, it amazed me again how quickly a connection can be established between complete strangers just by sharing knowledge and perhaps passion with regards to songs, be it specific pieces or music in general. He himself must have been alone on the road for some time, even if he came from Phandalin. To not just meet friendly people again but immediately share some of one’s heart and mind captured into the voiced notes… It makes me proud to be able to call myself a bard, I appreciate Anataea and the welcoming attitude I have learned from her ever more.
Amongst some common paraphernalia, Tiblen’s wares also featured an assortment of potions of which we bought 4 to increase our chances of surviving upcoming battles. Alongside with these, he also had a discounted new cloak for Grum. Admittedly, he looks quite handsome in this new attire! Nysqwen successfully fended off the merchant’s attempts to treat her to a pair of new earrings that were of the same colour as her scales. I should have bought these if only to enjoy the sight of our tough warrior with this delicate jewellery. Have to be mindful of that earlier next time! Throughout his travels, Tiblen had only come across the name Cragmaw castle more recently in Neverwinter, where it apparently keeps the guards on their toes. Rumours claim the king of the Cragmaw goblin tribe would reside there, a tribe loosely constructed from many smaller clans. That is somewhat in unison with what we have discovered so far. But no one seems to know anything about the location of this place. Hopefully, Reidoth will be able to finally point us in the correct direction. By now I am wondering though. Did not Sildar mention Gundren being taken from Skarg’s cave directly to this ominous bastion? If so, should there not be a path linking the two? I shall share these considerations with the others, maybe this might be another clue…
 
After we parted ways with Tiblen, whishing him the best of luck for his perilous travel to cities farther in the east, We continued our journey for the rest of the day. After an uneventful night and some more hours of driving, in the late afternoon of the next day we arrived again in Phandalin. The oxen recognized their old home, for they automatically steered towards their feeding trough behind Barthen’s Provisions. We left them behind to visit Daran Edermath, although poor Nysqwen cast a very wistfull look to the two loyal animals. Her grief could not last long however, as Carp, the young halfling boy rushed to greet us and especially her. Her caring attitude at our last visit must have left a deep impression with this one, he could not hear enough from her about our adventures. I remotely walked next to the two and did my best not to break into a broad grin. This caring side of her might just be the cutest thing I have witnessed on our journey so far! Before we reached Daran’s orchard, Carp headed home. We were invited by the old adventurer to a cup of tea and a few of his apple delicacies, which were quite the improvement over dry meat, stale bread and old cheese on the road. It is good to be back in civilisation once again! We told him of our adventures, especially of course our encounters with Hammun Kost. Daran was afraid of what the necromancer might find there in his search but gave in to our judgement of nothing eviller than the summoning of zombies by his hand going on at Old Owl Well. Still he said, he would keep an eye on the happenings there and inform his order of our report. He turned out to be a member of the Order of the Gauntlet, a pious organisation in Faerun that sought evil wherever it might hide to eviscerate it from this world. I tried to convince him that it was not for us to kill Hammun just in fear of what he might be after, if indeed he was just a curious scholar. That gave Daran some pause although I am not sure, if he can really agree with that.
 
Once we finished our tea and wished each other farewell, we turned to visit sister Garaele in her shrine to tell her the tale of our meeting with Agatha. Being not fond of living through the memories of our time in her old abode I was relieved that Garaele at least seemed to be pleased by the answer Agatha gave us. To her, the name Tsernoth, the necromancer from Iriaebor, seemed more familiar than it was to any of us. Even the fact that this piece of information was already a hundred years old did not disconcert her. To our question, what she or her principals would want with this book she told us, she is a member of the Harpers, another old faction that searches this world for forgotten magical artefacts while trying to help the oppressed, keeping powerful tyrants away from power and instead giving it to the small people for them to develop freely.
Her beliefs and ideals appealed to me in a way I have felt with no other of these factions we have gotten to know. Everyone seemed to be just out for power, enforcing their ideology, however good they might view their intentions and alignment, on everyone else. This power struggle never ceased, always let to people being left out or suffering. These Harpers tried to employ the opposite. Everyone shall have their place; every view is precious, and you should rather help others than seek power for yourself. It baffles me, how infiltrated everyday life is by one or multiple of the factions we have encountered in this small town, although I had heard about them before, only in hushed tones. The Harpers seemed different. They much more aligned with what I learned from Anataea or could observe in our own adventures.
Archie was intrigued as well, he clung to her lips while she spoke about their hunt for old artefacts. From what I have learned so far about the young human, his one true passion is his craft and the intricate ways one can manipulate magical energy to alleviate the burden of life. In his case, a special focus lay on objects being infused with magic. So, who could blame him for getting excited at such a revelation? There was an entire organisation dedicated to the search for said objects. Before we left, sister Garaele took it upon herself to indoctrinate Archie and myself into the ranks of the Harpers. We may call ourselves “watchers” from now on. I am curious and excited what this will bring for our future paths!
 
As the evening was quite advanced at this point, we all turned in at Toblen’s tavern to find him and a few guests still awake and happy to see us again. I was asked to tell our tale and I did my best. It only took close to four hours but not once did their attention dwindle. I’m beginning to get the hang of it by now.
 
Sleeping in an actual bed again was divine. All of us slept in today, finally no watches, roots poking your back, cold winds, distant and closer noises in the woods. Truly wonderful! After our breakfast, we went to speak to Harbin about our success with the orcs. On showing him the weapons we took from our captives, he handed us our payment. Quite remarkable was his changed attitude compared with our last visit. With the threat of the red bands gone, Phandalin seemed to prosper again which left the town master rather pleased. He told us he wanted to send the captured bandit to Neverwinter, to which we offered to take him with us. Harbin agreed, visibly relieved to be done with this chapter. We also should alarm Neverwinter to the presence of this Many-Arrows orc tribe, before it is to late to defend the lands surrounding the main city.
 
Now I am back at Toblen’s Stonehill Inn, while Grum and the others head to the miners’ exchange to ask once more for Gundren’s brothers. I am not ready to face Halia again, especially after that fateful evening with sister Garaele yesterday. Halia sounded very clear as to what she thought was the right path for me and sure would not take it well to hear about my most recent decision. I hope my friends won’t tell her too much, I first need to figure this watcher-business out… But I could not have agreed with the methods the Zentharim seem to employ anyway. Once we leave Phandalin behind later today, I will speak openly with my friends. I pray that they understand my actions and don’t think less of me for keeping them in the dark over the last days.
Maybe we can ask Elmar Barthen once more for his cart, especially now that we have to transport a prisoner. And it would be nice to see the joy in Nysqwen’s eyes once she meets our two oxen again.