Two Hangovers and a Funeral

Before we left the Miners’ Exchange, Kyla tried one last time to get some information from the foreman, this time with a little magical support. But he could tell us nothing new. Nysqwen tried something that resembled advances on a more personal level but all she could glean from a very confused and slightly irritated Fodl was that blue was his favourite colour. At our farewell, she proudly pulled something from her back that a close inspection revealed to be a pair of worn and tattered socks. With all of us staring in disbelief, she handed her possession to Fodl, as a gift for all his troubles. Mystra knows, what is going on in that woman’s head, I suspect she genuinely meant it as a heartfelt gesture. Well, what would we be without our spleens, I guess… I passed through the door last and with a final apologetic look slipped the perplexed man a silver with a light pat on the shoulder. That sparked something more closely resembling gratitude and he murmured, he would be happy to oblige.
 
Back at the Stonehill Inn, we planned our next steps. We figured, it might be worth checking out the old Tresendar Manor, where once we turned out the red bands. Maybe Glasstaff or the black spider would use it as a hideout again or at least get some belongings from the place. Afterwards, we saw our best shot in returning to the Wave Echo Cave. The spider desperately craves possession of the old spell forge; thus it is likely, he would return there. But first, as Kyla promised and was our duty as friends, the burial of Tarden had priority.
While Kyla ordered the two Stoneseeker brothers to craft a tomb stone for their fallen sibling, I made for finishing the song I was composing in honour of the dwarf’s fortitude. She, in the meantime, prepared some balms and rites as was custom to her order. With all preparations complete, we made our way as a silent parade out to the southwest of Phandalin, where Grum, Gundren and Nundro already had scouted for a fitting spot. After about an hour of walking, we came upon a hill, overlooking the village and surrounding fields, facing the mountains in the east. On the grass covered mound stood a lone, ancient, enormous tree. Kyla proceeded to embalm Tarden’s corpse, while Grum and Nysqwen went out to search for wood for a funeral pyre. Once everything was done, we all took turns in piling the dead branches, covering everything in oil and deferentially bedding the fallen dwarf on its top. With closed eyes, her right hand clasping her chain, Kyla kindled the pyre with a single word, before reciting prayers to the raven queen to grant safe guidance of Tarden’s soul into his next big adventure. I accompanied her prayers with a few faint notes on the lyra, trying my best to encapsulate the feelings of pain and grief and setting a counterpoint in peace and relief. As best as I knew, I imbued the music with some magic in the hopes of aiding the transition of the soul and asking Mystra as well, to watch out for the brave man.
As Kyla finished her devotions and we watched the flames slowly burning down, I transitioned the faint notes to lead into the song I had written and sang a eulogy to the dwarf who sacrificed his life to save his younger brother. As the song ended, the last flames died down. Kyla stepped forward, eyes closed, gesturing in the air while silently forming words. And before our eyes, the ashes stirred, rose as if drawn by a wind hose, circling faster and faster. The grey mist contracted forming a perfect, grey sphere of compacted ash, slightly shimmering in the evening sun. Slowly, the ball sunk down into the dug-out grave at the foot of the tree and rested in a pre-formed mould. The dwarves covered the hole with loose earth and erected the carved tombstone, indicating the spot of final rest. There we stood in silence.
 
It must have been at least two hours, before any of us moved, although Archie visibly struggled to comprehend what exactly was happening. On our way back, none of us spoke each lost in their own thoughts. When we entered the inn, the sun had already settled. We drank to Tarden’s memory and settled down for supper and a few more glasses of ale. Kyla ordered herself some harder liquor, at which Archie’s curiosity got the better of him, as he uttered, he wanted to try it as well. The disgusted expression on his face, as he took a huge draught, was surely a sight to behold! It finally triggered the first laughter after the darkened mood a funeral brings with it. We failed to stop ourselves from bursting into laughter as the poor boy followed Grum’s advice to rinse out the taste with some ale and Archie got more and more drunk. But Kyla certainly kept pace with him. And so, sorrows were drowned as Kyla, Archie and Nysqwen argued over the purpose of mourning, as he failed to grasp, what exactly caused our gloominess this afternoon. Yet after such an emotionally straining day, we all went to bed early.
 
As we assembled for breakfast this morning, Kyla and Archie suffered heavily from their decisions of the past evening. Kyla was not amenable at all as she scuffled towards the table, her hood drawn deep into her face. Archie was still wavering in his painfully slow descent from our sleeping rooms. I had helped Toblen to prepare a meal that might at least counter some of the consequences of such a hangover, but seeing the misery in Archie’s eyes at the faint smell of alcohol in the tavern room drenched all hope of him getting over it any time soon. In answer to Kyla’s request for something for her headache, Toblen replied that actually sister Garaele might be able to help us. Consequently, this was our first stop of the day.
 
After Kyla tried to hide the fact that she suffered just the same as Archie, sister Garaele indeed was able to prepare some hot beverage to ease the symptoms for both of them. Afterwards, in compliance with her earlier request, I showed the small augury-imbued figurine to her. Upon seeing the item, a gleam of fascination flashed over her face and she instantly inspected it closely, running a thoughtful finger over the eye engraved into the statue’s forehead. She expressed her eagerness to further study it and asked if we would be willing to part with it, to which we agreed. This might be a way in which we can be of service to the Harpers.
Next, we headed back to the Lionshield’s shop, where we met Lady Graywind once more to equip ourselves for our return to the mine. On our way towards the shop, we saw three men curiously setting out towards the ruin overlooking the village. Yet, we decided to investigate this later. As we discussed at breakfast, Nundro was in no condition to go back into the deeps that soon, a wise decision. Gundren however insisted on coming with us, thus we purchased a crossbow and some bolts for him, as we figured that this would be the safest way for him to aid us in our mission. Once we were content with our gear, we made for our first waypoint, Tresendar Manor, following the men we saw earlier.
 
Much to our surprise, as we approached the hill, we heard the hammering of nails into wood, laughter, and a few voices, chanting along a merry tune. Once we got sight of the old ruins, it became obvious that the figures we had seen entering the place from afar, were clearing out space, knocking down old walls and setting, what seemed to be foundations for a new house. Before we could introduce ourselves or ask what was going on, the closest man cried out in positive surprise and greeted us as the “heroes of Phandalin”. His peers quickly gathered around us and replied to our inquiries as to what was going on that the townsfolk had decided to construct a new house in place of the former bandit hideout as a residence - for us! These people were actually building an entire house just for us out of gratitude for what I would have argued was our duty of responsible citizens and adventurers! I still find it hard to believe. Being used to being looked down upon, if even so much as spared a glance in the taverns of Neverwinter, I am not sure what to make of such attention. Anataea’s relentless preaching about what goes around comes around certainly did not make me expect something quite like this to happen. A warmth filled me in that moment, as I find hard to put in words, maybe only music can encompass the joy it brings to me, to realise what kindness can do for us. Anataea will be proud to learn about this! Anataea… I still have to find out what was going on during that last visit… Hopefully, we can soon put an end to this black spider affair, as I will have to look after my brothers and sisters back home again. If I am lucky, maybe Grum, Nysqwen, Archie and Kyla may be willing to help. Just as I vowed to do whatever it takes to look after them and their loved ones.
But for now, we thanked the men for this heartfelt gift and excused us to pursue our initial reason to come back to the Manor. Leaving them behind, we climbed down the stairs leading into the basement, where we found the former well just as Archie left it behind after our last visit. It seemed as if nobody had been here in the last weeks. And the same was apparent in the rooms further back. The same broken and hastily abandoned laboratory equipment was scattered on the floor of Glasstaff’s private chambers, the dust lay thick on his desk. Nothing hinted at anyone entering the place after we cleared it out. And any traces of magic, that once were detectable in these rooms were gone now. Only the menacing magical weave in the den of the notic remained. With this trace leading to a dead end, it was time to set out towards the lost mine once again.
 
Our journey was pleasantly uneventful and in the early afternoon, we entered the mountain, exchanging the warm sunlight for chilly darkness, a menacing feeling spreading through our group. Archie put forth that the bugbears we saw on our last visit were clearly digging for something in the trench in the far north of the mine and argued that if they searched for something, it might be worthwhile for us to find out what that something was. Thus, we travelled north on the same path we took last time. We reached the crevice without any undesired encounters and climbed down to the bottom. Many shallow holes in the sides gave evidence to the attempts of digging further into the stone, some of the edges showed obvious signs of some magical force being employed in the process. The ground was littered with rubble and heedlessly scattered remains of food and broken tools. After almost an hour of searching, Kyla and I stumbled over a pile of bones, hidden underneath a great rock. Our attention was immediately drawn to the shiny gauntlets still covering its bony hands. We made sure for the skeleton to be dead for good before carefully removing said gauntlets. Immediately Archie ran towards us, some of his lenses in front of his eyes with unhidden excitement in his face. He hardly could contain his enthusiasm as he yanked the objects from my hands and studied the engraved fists, the rivetted construction and pulled out a small tool with which he fuddled about for some time. He identified them as being obviously magical, granting an attuned wearer the strength of an ogre. His last words he addressed to Nysqwen on whose face slowly an equally broad grin paved its way.
‘Ere we could marvel at the objects any further, we were interrupted by an arrow hissing right in between Grum and myself and breaking upon its hard impact on the stone floor. On top of the ledge from which we climbed down earlier stood a skeleton archer, already putting a new arrow on its string. Quickly, we scattered trying to reach the opposite slope to climb to some high ground. Meanwhile, Archie proved once more, how much he had grown in the past few weeks. After barely being able to say two straight sentences this morning with his hangover, he immediately pointed his staff towards our attacker and engulfed him in flames. When I turned back to assess the threat posed by the other side, I only saw some last flocks of ash drifting to the ground, where previously the undead archer had stood. From what we could determine, he had been alone. Even Kyla could not detect any further undead in the immediate vicinity.
 
We were now on the north-western edge of the crevice, the thundering of the echo louder than ever before. Grum determined that the walls of the tunnel we found ourselves in were washed flush by countless years of water once flowing through them and proceeded to lead our group further along the path. After a few turns, we emerged into a gigantic cavern. A small ridge to our right continued the path we were following, along a roaring basin of water, which ebbed and flowed regularly, its thundering drowning out most other sounds. The opposite wall is lost in darkness, this cave could be hundreds of strides across. And judging by the sound, it might be part of a much larger system of connected reservoirs. What is causing the constant movement is indeterminable at the moment. But as there somewhere is a magical forge about, perhaps its builders employed the force of the water masses in their construction. We chose this place to take some time for Nysqwen to get used to these newfound gauntlets. I can see Archie’s eyes still being fixed on them even from here. Grum and Gundren are talking in the rumbling language of the dwarves. I find myself unobserved for the moment and take the time to write down these lines. And pray that we will survive this day. If our assessments are correct and the black spider indeed returned to the mine, we will need all the strength we can muster to stand through this, potentially even facing off against whatever nightmare our enemy was fearing so much. I see Kyla approaching, surely, we will be on our way again soon. I will have my lyra at the ready.