Crescendo

15th day of Eleasis (Highsun), 1481

The four of you awake to the gentle patter of light rain outside. It starts and stops in short showers as you gather your things and bid farewell to Big Al. You saddle your new horses, mount, and head west on the Triboar Trail toward the High Road. Taking some time to judge the horses' pace, you figure you'll probably need to stop once along the way. Thankfully, you recall that there's a small, recently-established mining settlement just off the trail: Phandalin. You decide it would be sensible to try and make it there before finishing the day's travels.

"What do you three know of this place Phandalin? As a fresh traveller in your land, this one would like to hear a grand tale of the place. Surely it must have a great history or exciting lore."

Storm pats the neck of his new mount.

"This one believes Spirit in the Wind would like to hear one too."

"Spirit in the Wind. That is a fine name for the horse. Provided it does not take it literally and jump over every fence it sees."

Govath eyes the horse suspiciously, knowing full well any jump would land him on his back.

1d20 (19) - 1 = 18

As a man of trade, Cain has heard bits and pieces of Phandalin's history in his travels. Some centuries ago, it was a highly prosperous town, owing its wealth to a mine somewhere in the Sword Mountains that was used to produce magical items. Apparently, some dwarves, gnomes and human wizards had some kind of pact by which they worked the mine together and shared the profit.

However, that all came to an end when a combination of several orc tribes came down from the Sword Mountains and laid waste to both the mine and the town. For the last five hundred years, the mine has been lost and the town has been in ruins. However, over the last few years some enterprising individuals have been working to make the town a bit of a trading hub between the miners working the Sword Mountains and the larger cities such as Neverwinter and Waterdeep. The effort has been fairly successful, causing a small settlement to rise up around the business. Rumour has it that even the nobles of Waterdeep have begun taking an interest in the place, pledging their support to help its growth.

Storm listens to Cain's recounting of Phandalin's history.

"Are all these little settlement's stories this...dull on the Sword Coast?"

Dull does seem a fitting word as you lay eyes on the tiny settlement, a short distance off the Triboar Trail. A few meager houses surround a couple of larger buildings along a main road heading south toward the Sword Mountains. They look recently-constructed, but by no means extravagant.

You identify one of the larger buildings as the Stonehill Inn - a cozy establishment run by a human male named Toblen, who welcomes you and sets you each up with a meal, a bed, and feed for your horses for a modest three silver pieces each. You enjoy an evening by the hearth, largely having the place to yourself, save for a couple of miners who stop in for a mug of ale.

"Not a bad past couple days, if I don't say so m'self. Got teh skewer a good number'a Orc muthabuggas. Been a while since I had that much fun." Rowan, once again in human form he took before entering Phandalin, faintly slurs from the ale sharply hitting his empty stomach.

"You boys're fun. I like yeh."

"It was refreshing to be the ones doing the ambushing for once, and have the upper hand."

"So, Leilon is next stop, I'm anxious to see what news the Lances have about the whole Dragon situation."

"I'll be stoppin' in at the Lionshield Coster again. Kinda missin' my ol' crossbow."

Storm looks around the quiet unbusy Inn, a little disappointed to not find a crowd to perform for. Though given the size and dull history lesson of the place, he isn't too surprised.

"Hopefully Leilon isn't in a ruin of ice shards and frozen bodies. It would be just our luck so far to have something outlandish like that happen on our return."

Storm eyes the Dwarven miners and tries to overhear if they have anything interesting to say.

1d20 (11) + 5 = 16

As fate would have it, the two dwarves seated nearest to you seem to be discussing much the same thing you are.

"Did ye hear that roar o'er the peaks this mornin'? Sent chills down me spine, it did. Makes a dwarf less than eager t'be out 'n' about with a slow-movin' caravan full o' ore."

His companion nods. "I hear it attacked Umbrage Hill just yesterday. Ol' lady Gwynn didn't make it. Can ye believe it? She fends off the manticore with the 'elp of some 'venturers, only to be frozen stiff a handful of days later. Cryin' shame, it is."

The first dwarf shakes his head in dismay. "That beast is a territorial one, 'n' likes to have a lot o' territory at that. I hear it's been drivin' every manner o' creature down from the mountain - 'specially the orc tribes. Small wonder that Phandalin hasn't been touched yet. Maybe it's time to call it a done deal and head back to the walls o' Neverwinter before we end up like poor Adabra."

The second dwarf lets out a snort. "Sure, run that by the boss and see what he says."

Storm causally gestures towards the miners.

"Sounds like our friend the dragon has been really stirring up trouble in the area. Wonder what sort of beasts are being tossed down the mountain away from their homes besides the orcs."

"We should make haste to Leilon tomorrow. The Lances surely are aware of what's coming down these ways but they might need our help."

"This one might take a quick look around town early morning just for a little song inspiration."

And so the four of you retire to your rooms for the evening, glad for all the nights you've spent in warm beds lately. Bellies full and thirst satiated, you nod off to sleep swiftly - especially Cain, who you noticed was a little drowsy all day.

16th day of Eleasis (Highsun), 1481

Storm, true to his word, wakes up earliest of the group, rising at first light of dawn to take a walk around the tiny settlement of Phandalin. The rest of you eventually awake and meet back in the common area of the Stonehill Inn, awaiting his return.

You don't see the same miners from the night before, but you do see a rugged looking male human eating some eggs at a corner table. Other than him and Toblen, you have the room to yourselves.

Not seeing the dwarves from before Govath joins his companions.

"I seem to be running low on rations. How are the rest of you doing?"

Storm comes sauntering into the Inn to rejoin his companions.

"Su'tali everyone, it is looking to be a nice day today. Just had a walk about the town. It's small and not particularly exciting. There's a provisions shop if anyone needs anything and a miners store as well. Oh and a young apple orchard on the outskirts if anyone is craving. But this one is ready to head out of town when you are."

Cain is sitting at a table downstairs as Govath joins, followed by Storm and his report.

"Apples, I feel like we've been out on the road so long that I forget what they're like. Realistically, it's only been a few days."

"If there's nothing here to spend our time exploring, I'm ready to leave whenever you all are."

"I will make a short stop at the provisions shop, after that nothing seems worthy of our attention."

"Actually, I'll come join you really quick, see if I can pick up a few things."

"If it is only us, let us make it quick so we can be on our way."

Govath finish his breakfast quickly and stands up from the table.

Rowan scrapes his chair along the wood floor as he gets up. "I'll jus' be outside when yer ready teh go."

He carries a freshly rolled cigar out the door with him.

Cain joins Govath at the shop and purchases a ink bottle, pen and three sheets of parchment.

"Whew, I never knew writing tools were so expensive. I'm looking forward to cashing in the rewards for our work with the Lances ..."

Returning with Cain after a successful purchase of rations for the road.

"What do you intend to do with your new writing implements?"

"Ah, just saw them in passing while perusing and thought they would be useful to have. I have at least a few letters to send out as well."

Storm waves to the two as they return and motions to the horses.

"Looks like we're all set. Is everyone ready to skip town and get back to Leilon?"

Storm of Fire mounts up on Spirit of the Wind, his colorfully lavish, cloak flapping in the wind. He adjusts his hat of arcane, his bags and his lute in preparation for the ride. In all, Storm looks like a mismatched confusion of colors and style. Just the sort of thing every successful bard needs.

"I for one am ready."

Govath says before adding to the mismatched confusion by climbing up behind Storm, on Wind, in what can not be described as a graceful motion.

"So am I, let's hit the road. Hopefully the wet has dried up a bit and the roads will be nice."

Cain says mounting his, currently unnamed horse.

Rowan climbs atop his horse as well, still smoking his cigar and flicks the reins to get it moving. "Bright sunny day at least, let's make the most of it."

Riding out of town in the morning sun felt good to Storm's stature. Making small talk with his companions and inquiring about their purchases at the shop, Storm fiddles around inside his bag.

"If anyone has need of a wiring quill, you are free to use this one. Good writing requires good tools and nothing is more inspirational than a quality raven feather quill."

Storm produces a thick black feathered quill with gold gilding down it's spine. The black feather shimmers in the sunlight, with a very subtle iridescent reflection.

"A souvenir from our short stay in Phandalin. This one will find much inspiration in song writing and drawing with this I think. But you are all free to use it too."

"A souvenir?", Cain puts emphasis on the word, "That sure is a fine looking --- ACHOO!"

The recent lack of sleep the night before, mixed with the long journey has suddenly taken a toll on Cain as his immune system seems to dwindle.

But more important, Cain suddenly disappears.

Storm, riding a little ahead of Cain doesn't notice the disappearance right away.

"Well souvenir could be roughly translated to "Stole it from Tibor's brother the mayor"...but..."

His words are cut as he turns to continue the conversation and notices Cain has left.

"Umm...Cain?"

" --- sorry, I think I'm catching a cold. I was just saying, it's a fine looking pen."

Cain's horse's reins are floating in mid-air, and his voice comes from where his head used to be.

"Haha! Yeh've learned a new trick, mate! Lookit yer hands."

"Huh?", Cain responds confused, while looking down at his hands holding the reigns.

"Woah!" As he almost recoils backwards off the saddle. And just like that, Cain reappears back into view.

"... interesting ... I didn't know I could do that." Pausing for a moment, he looks up and the group and smiles, "But this definitely will be useful."

"Hopefully it doesn't take a loud sneeze teh get that way every time. Kinda defeat the purpose of bein' stealthy."

Twisting to look back and see what all the excitement is amount, and not seeing Cain.

"First the lightning, and now this. You have some interesting hidden talents."

The curious moment is interrupted by the sound of a distant roar that seems to echo off the mountains at your back. You all look up and freeze at the sight of a familiar white creature rising into the air over the peaks.

You hear distant screams from the settlement you just left behind, as folks rush to their shelters in a panic. The dragon dives from the peaks and enters a low glide, headed in your direction.

"Now would be a good time to teach the rest of us your sneezing trick! The dragon soars towards us! Quickly, let us lead it away from Phandalin!"

1d20 (14) + 4 = 18

Storm feels Govath moving around behind him and peers over his shoulder. Seeing Govath remove the warhammer, he understands it's time for business.

"Shall we!?"

"I do not see this as my final day, but should the dragon take interest, I believe in being prepared."

"So, first we find some shelter."

The three horses bolt off the path connecting Phandalin to the Triboar Trail, heading for the hills to the east - the only cover that Cain is able to spot. Unfortunately, the sudden movement seems to catch the dragon's attention. It suddenly slows its pace, lets out another roar, and then dives for the very hills to which you're headed.

"Go go go!", Cain shouts while pushing his horse toward the hills.

"Keep some spacing!", Cain steers his horse away from the others.

Storm gallops a wide gap away from the other two horses. He yells back to Govath over the thundering hooves racing below.

"This one bets the dragon will think us the better meal! There's more meat here than the other two horses! We're going to need a plan if this thing gets close!"

"Best I can offer is keeping both eyes on the dragon while you watch where we are going."

"If our situation becomes more dire be prepared to jump clear of the horse should we be attacked!"

1d20 (10) + 3 = 13

"Wait a minute, this one hopes you're not suggesting sacrificing Spirit of the Wind! He has been blessed with a name and will not be toss aside like a old lady in a brothel!"

1d20 (11) + 4 = 15

"All I am saying is, we will be lucky to survive if the dragon takes a liking to us.

And should our horse perish, then he can ride on the wind not bound anymore by his mortal form.

Now where is that dragon going?"

You all scatter among the hills, guiding your horses into the wide valleys of dried grass in hopes of making it out of the dragon's sight. It proves futile. Govath watches in horror as the creature swoops down behind Spirit of the Wind and opens its mouth wide to unleash a torrent of frost toward him.

Storm gives a powerful kick to both of Spirit of the Wind's sides, spurring him on as fast as he can go. It proves just enough to stay ahead of the icy blast. Govath feels the air turn cold against his face as he glances back to see the ground behind him turn to a solid sheet of ice.

The dragon's breath stops, and for a second Storm and Govath hope against all odds that the beast will be too lazy to continue the pursuit after failing to freeze its targets solid. Unfortunately, with one mighty beat of its wings, it overtakes Spirit of the Wind and suddenly drops directly in front of him, with a mighty thud that sends grass and soil flying all around. The horse rears back in fear and surprise, knocking Storm and Govath to the ground as Cryovain, no longer some distant threat, towers over them and lets out another mighty roar.

Ruggo turns his horse around to fire a couple of arrows, one of which hits its mark but doesn't get Cryovain's attention. Vanishing with his Hidden Step, Ruggo leaps off his horse and runs in the opposite direction.

Govath and Storm scramble to their feet. Storm attempts to cast Suggestion, but it has no effect. Meanwhile, Govath quickly begins inserting a rag into a flask of oil, hoping that a fiery attack might deter the icy creature.

Cain swiftly turns his horse toward his companions, looking frantically for some sort of shelter. "We should run for the mountains!" he shouts, producing his signal whistle and attempting to distract the dragon.

Cryovain takes some swipes at Govath, but Storm's Cutting Words take the edge off the attack. Govath frantically launches his makeshift weapon, which misses the creature but still burns its feet as it explodes onto the dry grass just behind it.

The situation dire, Storm makes a last-ditch effort to end this conflict without any deaths. "Fly high eastward to the depths of the High Forest. Take a peaceful nap at its heart," he shouts, casting Suggestion again.

Cryovain pauses a moment, breathing heavily, staring at the feline form shouting at him. After a tense, uncertain moment, he suddenly beats his powerful wings, launching into the air. Letting out one final roar, he speeds off eastward, in the direction Storm's finger points.

"Why did I choose a dragon. A giant based enchantment certainly would have been easier than this. No, I am not wasting this on some meager giant."

Govath says while watching the dragon venture forth to the east.

"We should probably make haste to Leilon while the opportunity is here. That was way too close."

Joining the others, he continues, "That dragon spotted us from such a distance. I suppose it saw a quick easy meal out in the open fields ... makes me wonder if it was originally headed for Phandalin."

"The consideration to speak to it was there. But it seemed much safer to send it away from us and from Phandalin. Hopefully there isn't another tiny settlement between here and the forest."

Storm goes off to chase down Spirit.

Finally riding back to the others Rowan asks, "What happened?! Why didn't the muthabugga just eat us?"

Riding up behind Ruggo, Storm contemplates the situation.

"Maybe it wanted to have a chat. But then again it did attack Govath."

"I'm actually wondering if the initial blast was actually just to get you to stop. It's hard to believe a dragon would miss an open target like that ... so maybe it did intend to talk."

Turning to Rowan, "But someone had to put an arrow into it. There's no way we were going to survive taking down a dragon, just the four of us."

Storm taps his chin. "Perhaps this one should have forced it to talk..."

"It's intention seemed mighty clear teh me, all I could do was try and distract it from its intended dwarfy meal. Yeh think it wanted to talk?!"

"No point holding a grudge, although I do hope dwarf is not a favourite meal of the beast. Those are the thoughts that can keep you up at night."

"I reckon the horses would do more teh satisfy that thing's hunger. But it wasn't after a meal or it woulda taken my bait. I confess I don't know anythin' bout dragons, but somethins off about this whole situation."

"Maybe it was waiting for its food to cool down?" Storm does a nudge-nudge-wink-wink action.

"Seemed it wanted to play with its food first."

Relieved and perhaps a little anxious, the four of you mount up once more and race toward Leilon with renewed vigor. Much to your relief, the rest of your ride is fairly uneventful.

You turn off the Triboar Trail onto the High Road, heading south past several slower caravans making the usual deliveries between Neverwinter and Waterdeep. Each of these seems to be surrounded by well-armed individuals, the threat of the dragon causing many businesses to hire mercenaries and adventurers to protect their goods, even along such a well-traveled road. Even these hired protectors seem on edge, as you catch many of them scanning the sky at regular intervals for any signs of the dreaded beast.

Night has fallen by the time you arrive back, and you find that the tent that had been set up in the town square has been taken down in your absence. Presumably you will need to find Captain Reynolds in the morning in order to report on the fate of Butterskull Ranch and Tibor Wester's logging camp.

""What're yeh feelin', mates? Secure us some rooms at the Sword first, or are yeh wantin' some food and drink at the Tusk's?""

"I think we have time to celebrate our ... relatively ... successful adventure, I'm definitely willing to head over to the Tusk for a night out. Will be nice to be around a crowd for once."

"This one votes for Tusks as well. It's been some time since performing for a real crowd, no offense."

"If yeh really get the crowd goin' maybe Mara'll give yeh yer meal free."

Storm jingles his strange money bank he acquired earlier on the adventure.

"That would be ideal, not much left in here."

Seeing another peculiar object in Storms possession. "You were not at all joking about those many souvenirs, and the Tusks sounds all and good over here. Perhaps there will be that table by the hearth available again."

Rowen nods with a grin. "By the fire is the best seat in any tavern or inn. To the Tusk's it is then, mates!"

"Souvenirs are the best way to remember a story or adventure for later inspiration in song or story writing. Speaking of which, once we get paid for our work, another stop at Wynn's Wares is necessary. This one wonders what new mysteries there will be find among his shelves...but that is a task for tomorrow. To the Tusk!"

As you come close to the entrance of The Orc's Tusks, you hear a loud commotion within. Pushing past the door, you see that about half of the tables and chairs have been haphazardly shoved aside, creating a large open area where a crowd seems to have gathered.

"Brick! Brick! Brick! Brick!" they all seem to be chanting at the top of their lungs. You hear the telltale thud of a fist slamming into a face, and the crowd erupts in cheers and shouts.

Glancing around the tavern, you notice Mara standing by the bar, looking over at the commotion while impatiently tapping her foot, but she makes no move to intervene. Boy is at her side, seemingly entranced by the nearest wall. Looking over at the famous skull for which the place is named, you see that somebody has seen fit to dress a dead possum in a toddler's pink dress and hang it by its tail from one of the tusks.

In a corner table, away from the crowd, you can't help but notice the majority of the Stone-Cold Reavers nursing ales and taking little notice of the festivities. Syleen balances a dagger on her finger, while Runa appears to be snapping the teeth out of a large, rat-shaped skull one by one. With each crack, a disturbing smile creeps across her face. Jabarl appears to be picking the remains of his dinner out of his teeth, and Dobin, face covered by his cloak as always, seems engaged in a book. On the table between them sits a large piece of parchment that you recognize as a job posting, surrounded by mostly emptied plates and mugs.

You don't see Brakkis, the half-orc, sitting with them - but you do suddenly hear a member of the crowd yell "Punch 'is dirty green skull in," which gives you a pretty good idea of where you could find him.

Eyeing the Reavers in the corner, Cain turns to the others, "I don't think I'm in the mood to deal with her gloomy attitudes tonight. What say we find a table somewhere on the other side of the tavern?" he says nodding over to the opposite side of the wall.

1d20 (4) + 4 = 8
Cain sees if he can spot any available tables that aren't pushed up against each other due to the fight ring.

There are quite a few unoccupied tables near the entrance, away from all the commotion. Cain goes over and sits at one of these.

"Agreed." Govath heads over to join Cain, and looks to see if any servers are in the area to wave down.

1d20 (13) + 5 = 18

Finneus doesn't appear to be present tonight, his usual corner of the tavern unoccupied.

Mara catches Govath's gaze and heads over to the table.

"Evenin', boys - it's been a while. Apologies for shoutin', but seems you arrived back on a particularly rowdy night. What'll it be? We got a hearty beef stew on special, if it catches your fancy."

"Stew'll be jus' fine fer me, Mara. Any mead make its way teh Leilon and yer fine establishment?"

"I think a round of the beef stew for the table would be greatly appreciated, and perhaps some cheese and bread to go with it."

"Aye, I can get you some mead, though it'll run you a little more than the ale.

Stew, bread and cheese, comin' up. Any of the rest of you drinkin' tonight?"

"Perhaps an ale for myself."

Storm eyes Finneus' vacant corner with an eye of desire. Half paying attention he replies to Mara as well.

"Yes it is good to see are well Mara. Those things sound good. All of that. What was it again? Whatever Govath eats, this one will have the same. Do you mind if I ..?"

Storm motions to the corner while simultaneously getting up with his Lute. Without waiting for an answer, he saunters over to the corner of the room.

"I wonder if anyone will be able to hear him over the noise ..." _Cain says half to himself before responding to Mara, "Drinks sound great. We're celebrating a successful contract tonight!"

Mara watches Storm head over to the corner, then turns back to the rest of you and shouts once more over the noise of the crowd.

"He's a brave one to try and steal attention away from a brawl. Finneus always knows he may as well pack up when one breaks out. He left just as soon as the argument started.

I wish him the best of luck."

Rowan responding to Cain, "And surviving a dragon attack, mate! Forget the contract, we're bloody alive."

He holds his hand up in the air palm down, and the slightest shake can be seen in the archer's normally steady as iron hands.

Mara's eyes widen a bit at this last statement.

"You got attacked by that thing out on your travels? You're bleedin' lucky to still be alive. I'll get your food, and the first round of drinks is on the house. No doubt you'll need them to settle those nerves."

With this, she wanders back to the bar, snaps her fingers in front of Boy's face to get his attention, then drags him back to the kitchen with her.

Ruggo leans back on his chair to try and see this fight through the crowd.

"That Mara, she does spoil me. Tha' reminds me, what made the muthabugga fly away?"

"I saw Storm muttering one of his spell, then he just yelled at the dragon and it flew off to the forest. It was a lot more effective than anything I could have done."

The ranger stares at the feline bar from across the room, awe apparent on his face.

"Red can do that?! Jus' speak and a massive angry beast jus' turns tail and flies away? If he could teach that trick to any of the Lances, Leilon wouldn't need to worry 'bout this dragon at all anymore."

"Magic is a mysterious thing, though I doubt it is as simple as that. It never is, it seems."

"However, if we ever face the dragon again, let's make an agreement not to attack it immediately ... that could have ended really badly for us, had Storm not worked his enchantments."

He turns to see where Storm is, "This is going to be interesting."

Adjusting his chair to get a better view of both the fight in the centre of the tavern, and Storm setting up.

"Between Ruggo disappearing and Storm telling the dragon what to do, looks like it will be the two of us that need to find a way to save our skins."

"That will be worries for another day, because what are the odds Storm ends up in the ring because he is distracting from the fight?"

1d20 (19) + 2 = 21

1d20 (17) + 0 = 17

A muscular human, over six feet tall, turns from the back of the crowd suddenly to see Storm perched atop the table. "Hey!" he shouts, getting the attention of some others near him. "What gives? This guy just tried to mess with my head!"

This, in combination with the shaking floor, does in fact get the attention of several more members of the crowd. As people turn their attention toward the elevated Tabaxi, you all get a glimpse at the two figures brawling in the middle of them - Brakkis, the half-orc member of the Reavers, and huge, pale human male. Brakkis is distracted for a moment by the crowd splitting and receives a solid punch to the jaw as punishment.

1d20 (1) + 0 = 1

Suddenly the offended man's demeanour changes. His scowl breaks into a lopsided grin and he says "oh, it's you!" He pauses for a moment, looking puzzled. "Eh...we've met before, haven't we?"

"Friend it is I, the renowned bard Red Eyes! Stomp your feet to the rhythm of battle! Bang the your mugs like the beat of the war drums! Join me in making this the most epic fight you have ever spectated!"

Storm keeps the battle music going while thumping his boots in time with the floor rumbling. He hopes his massive "friend" can entice the rest of the crowd to do the same. He plays furiously while waiting to see how the crowd reacts before pursuing his next move...

You use a bonus action to grant 1d6 Bardic Inspiration die to a target. Once within the next 10 minutes, a target can roll the die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll, or saving throw they make. Once the Bardic Inspiration die is rolled, it is lost. A creature can have only one Bardic Inspiration die at a time.

1d20 (18) + 8 = 26

Watching all of this unfold, Govath who's original intention was to enjoy a peaceful evening not having any overdue contracts to worry about, starts to crack and smile and tap his boot in time with the music.

"I understand why the dragon simply flew off, I feel near ready to jump into the ring."

The charmed man nods slowly, then begins stomping his feet and clapping his hands in time with the music. It takes a moment for the suspicion of the surrounding folk to wear off, but eventually they look at each other and shrug, joining in the rhythm.

This spreads like a wave through the crowd, and soon the thaumaturgy isn't even needed, because the whole tavern is shaking with every stomp. It has the strange effect of heightening the sense of drama, as what was once a chaotic, dissonant aura of shouts now becomes focused, rhythmic beating. All attention turns back to the ring, where the two fighters have momentarily paused at the strange phenomenon evolving around them. Even the Reavers look up from what they're doing to see what's going on. Syleen looks over at Storm atop the table and rolls her eyes, but with a slight smirk on her face.

Suddenly, one brave spectator begins the chant you heard when you entered the tavern. "Brick! Brick!" now in time with the music. More and more voices join in, each more loud and confident. Emboldened, the large human rushes toward Brakkis, landing three quick blows to his gut and face. You can see that he is bloodied and bruised, but a renewed vigour seems to have taken hold of him.

Brakkis attempts to retake ground by grappling the human in his large, muscular arms, and for a moment it looks like it's working. The half-orc attempts to pull his opponent to the ground, but suddenly his footing slips. Sensing the opportunity, the human lowers, and then flips Brakkis over his back in a mighty burst of strength. Brakkis lands with a thud, and the human quickly drops on top of him, fists repeatedly flying into his face.

"I yield! I yield!!"

A mighty cheer erupts through the tavern, followed by much applause. You catch glimpses of some coin exchanging hands and a handful of spectators walking away with dejected looks on their faces.

The human stands up once more and offers his hand to Brakkis, who accepts it and is pulled to his feet as well. The two fighters shake hands in a display of sportsmanship, but it's easy to see how disappointed the half-orc is. As the crowd disperses and begins moving tables and chairs back into place, he makes his way back toward his companions looking like a puppy with its tail between its legs. You catch some of what he says as he walks over.

"I...I don't know what happened. I had him. Something came over me, I just...I just don't know..."

"Hah! You can't win 'em all, Brakkis. You'll get him next time."

Syleen stands from the table and does a big stretch, and her companions rise in kind and begin heading toward the tavern entrance.

As they pass by your table on the way out, you notice that Syleen has the job posting rolled up in her hand. She stops to address the three of you sitting there.

"Well, I was beginning to worry Jabarl was going to earn his coin back. Glad to see the lot of you are still alive and kicking - though I'm afraid a little late to get best pick of job."

She casually waves the posting in her hand.

"Of course, there isn't too much competition left now, so I'm sure you'll find some errand or another that you can handle.

Let's go, Reavers. We've got a big day tomorrow."

Before leaving, Syleen walks over to the table that Storm is perched on. She looks up and gives another signature smirk, then drops five gold coins into the hat.

"You're too kind, this one was almost out of coin. Now this one can stay in your land a little longer and grace your presence again in the near future."

Storm gives a bow of the head while continuing his song.

Cain gives a small nod and raises his tankard to Syleen as she speaks to them and leaves.

Turning to the others, "Heh, I bet they rushed back to get their pick. We, on the other hand, completed two contracts and cleared out a lighthouse."

"Could not have Jabral earn some poorly wagered coin." Govath says as the reavers pass by. "smmj hvkp mvt trwxw"

"We have been gone some time. It is likely they have finished a similar number of contracts as we have."

Storm waits for any other patrons to drop off some coin, and sure enough some of the bet-winners are feeling especially generous. Three of them drop a gold coin in the hat, along with two silver pieces and ten copper pieces - probably the best haul for any performance since coming to the Sword Coast.

The Tabaxi makes his way back to the table just as Mara returns with everyone's food and drink.

"An inspiring performance you put on there, friend. I was about ready to hop in the ring and pummel some skulls myself! Enjoy, and let me know if you need anything else."

"Well that was fun and yielded a decent amount of coin. Now to eat and consider tomorrow's work. This one saw the Reavers waving around a contract like we should be jealous. The joke is on them because we don't even know what it says! Let's make it a point to not ask the Captain what contract we missed out on." Storm laughs maniacally in a joking way, raising his paws like an evil wizard.

Mara keeps her word about the free round of drinks, only charging each of you for the special plus some bread and cheese. You each pay her the four silver and head back down the streets of Leilon toward the Sword.

You arrive just as Lyla is about to turn in for the night, but she's relieved to see you alive after so many other adventurers never returned.

"I think we even have four adjacent rooms available now...yes, it appears we do. Not too far from the lobby, either!"

She turns to the wall of keys behind the desk and quickly grabs four, then motions for you to follow. "Not too far from the lobby," as she describes it, turns out to still be more lefts and rights than you can memorize at the pace she leads you, but at least you'll have each other to figure it out with in the morning. You each drop into a warm bed, the harrowing attack from the morning feeling like a distant memory now, and quickly fall asleep.

17th day of Eleasis (Highsun), 1481

Each of you enjoys a good sleep and wakes up feeling well-rested. You gather in the hallway outside of your rooms and set off in search of the lobby. Sure enough, it takes you...well, a little less time than usual.

"So what're yer plans for the day? I reckon first stop is the Lances for our reward and next job. I need to head back to Wynn's Wares and trade this bow back fer my crossbow. Miss the ol' girl."

"Lances yes. And Wynn's Ware definitely. And then perhaps we take a day off relaxing. We have been on the road for a long time since leaving for Gnomengarde. This one wouldn't mind a day off.

That is of course, the Lance's do not give us another pressing matter to attend to."

Rowan lights a cigar and puffs the smoke before answering. "I've yet teh see a job posting that doesn't try teh sound the most urgent of the lot. If we want a day off we'd be better waiting teh look at the job board tomorrow."

"If no one objects, I will look for a blacksmith and inquire about using some of his shop to work on modifying the mithral armour for us."

"We should go still look at the postings today. Wouldn't want the Reavers to get any extra advantages now. Still worth a look."

"That's a good idea Govath. It's that or sell it to the Lance's. But it's more useful in our hands. Or on our bodies."

_"I agree, we may as well take the best pick from whatever is left. If we leave tomorrow, or browse tomorrow, it will still be another day regardless. Then, we can relax and make preparations."

"Maybe we should go to the Lances sooner than later before any other adventuring party decides to take a browse ... ?"

"Yes let's go, this one can't do much without the payment first anyways."

Storm gathers his gear and Lute and makes for the front door.

Cain sighs as he looks out at the storm. "I guess we should be used to this by now ...", he mutters as he bundles his cloak around them at the door, ready to head out to visit the Lances.

On your way out, Lyla bashfully reminds you all that unfortunately they've had to revert to their regular price - five silver pieces, up from the three that was required when the place was filled with enthusiastic adventurers. You each pay her for the night's stay, and then head out.

The clouds above do indeed look threatening as you make your way to the barracks on the other end of town, but thankfully hold back their torrent for the time being. As you pass the High Tower of Thalivar, you notice a small group of children throwing random objects at the invisible barrier, giggling with glee as they bounce harmlessly back.

Turning the final corner toward the barracks, the street seems quieter than your last stop to Leilon. Something strange does catch your eye, however. Two figures emerge from the barracks - a male elf and a female human, you can just make out at this distance - wearing the finest clothes any of you have ever seen. Any of you except Cain, that is, who recognizes fine Waterdhavian fabrics when he sees them. The elf wears an extravagant but elegant outfit of green and gold, accented by a hood, boots and gloves of the finest brown leather. The woman wears a fine black tunic and pants, over which flows a silky cloak of deepest wine red. The pair look out of place in the streets of this small coastal town, so far from the noble courts where they no doubt belong.

The elf mutters something to the human before both don their hoods and begin walking down the street in your direction.

With the two still far enough away not to hear, Rowan lets out a low whistle. "Fancy." He pulls his hat down low over his eyes and takes another drag of his stogie.

"Waterdavians ...", Cain says, to no one in particular.

Looking up at the sky, he says, "It looks like it could open up any minute. Let's make our way to the Lances before it does."

As the pair draws nearer, they take notice of the four of you and the elf waves, then alters course to approach you, the woman following behind. You get a better look at their faces up-close - the elf quite young and dashing with short, wavy hair and a well-groomed moustache, the woman black-haired with icy, penetrating eyes. The elf flashes a smile before addressing you all.

"Well-met, travelers! I do beg your pardon, but I wonder if I could have but a few seconds of your time?"

Looking to his companions, and back to the elf. "What brings you to Leilon, you are definitely out of place here."

"Hah! A sharp eye you have, my friend! A trait that I hope will benefit us both, when you hear what I have to say. You see, my companion and I are in search of somebody - a unsavory sort, I am sad to say - and we have travelled far and asked many in hopes of finding our quarry."

The woman, now at his side, gives a small bow.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, gentlemen."

"Well most of us are new to this area. Still tell us who you are searching for and if we are able, we will let you know if we have seen them."

"Ah yes, but I do find that adventurers tend to be far more observant than the common rabble - and so I present our information. We are in search of a dangerous smuggler, one who caused great harm to our client who has hired us to ensure that he is brought to justice for his crimes. We have been authorized to offer a reward of no less than one thousand gold pieces for information leading to his capture and return to Waterdeep.

The criminal is a human male, about the height and build of your friend here, from what we understand.

The name we were given was one Cain Vance, though who knows if he is still going by that these days."

"We have, here, an artist's rendering that may serve to jog your memory. I'm sure you see many faces in your travels."

The woman produces a piece of parchment from her cloak and unrolls it to display an unfamiliar face. Well, unfamiliar to all of you except, once again, Cain. Because the face rendered on the parchment is the one that he once carried, some time ago.

"May I?"

Govath extends his hand to take and examine the parchment.

Storm whistles as he inspects the parchment depicting Cain.

"What in Ubtao's name did this one do to warrant such a high reward? Surely a little smuggling can't be worth that much?"

The woman hands the parchment to Govath.

"Handsome lad."

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss the details of the matter - nor, frankly, am I in possession of them all. But suffice it to say that our client has deemed the reward fair, and is a member of one of the most highly-respected families in Waterdeep. Have no doubt that if you are able to help us, you will receive the payment in full."

Cain steps beside Govath and looks down at the parchment over his shoulder, and without looking up asks, "And you've given the contract to the Lances? Or, how would we go about bringing this smuggler to your client?"

Shaking his head. "I am afraid this face is not one I am familiar with." Govath then offers the parchment to anyone else who wants a closer look at what Cain actually looks like.

"I'm afraid this matter is a little too delicate to be delegated so simply. The task of bringing in this individual falls solely to us. We merely seek information that will lead us to him - he has proved rather evasive so far."

"We have just finished speaking with the Lances of Leilon in hopes that they might be willing to share some of their records with us. We understand that many have come and gone from this town over the past couple weeks. Unfortunately they were...uncooperative."

She pauses, and you sense skepticism in her expression.

"You're sure that none of you recognize this man?"

"The Swordcoast is a large area to cover, and a smuggler who doesn't want to be found is likely long into hiding. Our adventuring takes us all over, especially recently with all the activity with the dragon flying about. In any case, we'll keep an eye out for this one."

"Can we keep this poster? Do yeh have copies? It'd help to be able teh reference it if we run into this Cain."

Storm takes the page from Govath and holds it up beside Cain's head.

"This is close enough, can we turn our friend here in for the reward money? I'm sure he won't mind." Storm laughs.

"There have been rumors of a light house just north of Leilon being active although it should be abandoned. We had mind to investigate the place and uncover who is hiding out there. Sounds like an ideal place for a smuggler. Could be a good place to start."

"I'm afraid we do not have additional copies - we do not stay in one place long, and I'm afraid it would be difficult to get in contact with us at a later time if you do not already have information that can help our hunt.

This lighthouse sounds like a potential lead, however. In the event that your information leads to the capture of this Cain Vance, how would be best to get in contact with you? Shall we send word to the Lances?"

"Yes, we're going to be working with the Lances for some time, so best to check in with them from time to time."

Looking over to the barracks, "And speaking of which, we ought to get moving to deal with our contracts before any other parties arrive."

He makes an effort to start moving towards the barracks, "Best of luck on your hunt, and hopefully you find your man. We'll keep our eyes out for any information."

1d20 (6) + 4 = 10

1d20 (16) + 6 = 22

1d20 (13) - 1 = 12

1d20 (11) + 4 = 15

For extra good measure, Storm offers the strange duo an extra tidbit of information, free of charge.

"Oh and if the lighthouse proves to be a false lead, there is a place around here that the shadier type often visit. The sort of place one hides away from the world in. Ask the locals around here and they will tell you it is called the Many-Claws Alley, down by the docks. This one is willing to bet you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villany."

He lowers his voice a little. "Remember, it was the Tabaxi that gave you this tip, not these three..." He subtly points to his companions then taps an pocket with a wink.

The two exchange a momentary glance, and then turn back to you. The elf responds, while the woman's piercing eyes never leave your faces, cycling between each of you, her expression inscrutable and her gaze making you a little uncomfortable.

"We will be sure to follow up on both of these leads, and if anything comes of them, you will hear back from us! Thank you all very much for your time - may you have great success on your next venture!"

They both give slight bows, and then continue on down the street beyond you.

Rowan walks nonchalantly towards the Lances tent. "Don't look back, jus' keep walking. An' don't say anything' yet."

Cain falls in line beside Rowan and mutters, "We can't go in there, now ..."

"The Lances didn't cooperate, and anyways, there's so many hungry adventurers signed up fer work you'd be lost among the lists. Even if they start pouring over registrations we got some time, I reckon."

Rowan takes another long drag. "An' what's yer name?"

"Seems we have lost our chance to run now that they have seen us, and will eventually link our group together. If we had not returned after our last job they may have assumed us dead."

"We should follow them and find out where they're staying. Maybe they are staying at Lyla's. And then we kill them in their rooms, it will take anyone ages to find them in the maze of hallways."

Rowan gives Storm a stern look trying to determine if the Tabaxi is being serious. Then turns to Cain.* "Yeh need a new name, mate, what's yer name?"

Responding first to Storm, "We could, I suppose. But I don't think we want to tussle with that sort of bounty hunter. Not from what I know of who they're working for."

To Rowan, "Pim."

Continuing towards the barracks, "Let's get this over with quickly, then find somewhere we can talk about this in private."

The four of you enter the barracks for the first time, previously only seeing its exterior as you fetched jobs from the job board outside. The building is far from luxurious, clearly designed with practicality as the primary goal. The stone lobby you find yourself in houses naught but a few benches along the stone walls, and a handful of lances hanging vertically above them serve as the only decoration. At the far end, between the entrances to two hallways extending left and right, sits a wooden desk, behind which stands the young squire Geoffrey. He recognizes the four of you with a bit of a shock, and snaps to attention.

"Glad to see you made it back, sirs. We had begun to wonder if we would receive report of your demise, as we have for so many others these past few days."

Rowan takes off his hat and nods quickly to the young squire. "Believe you me, it was by chance as thin as a cat's hair we ain't a part of those reports." He looks proudly at Storm. "...thin as a cat's hair."

"Well whatever the cause, be it chance or providence, we can certainly use the extra hands. The Lances' sterling reputation has them in high demand, and we find our forces spread too thin between various cities and settlements all requesting protection.

I assume you intend to report to Captain Reynolds? I believe his previous meeting recently ended, so I can show you to the office if you're ready."

"Thankee, yeh."

Geoffrey leads you down the hallway to the right, eventually turning into a room considerably more glamourous than the lobby. Several banners emblazoned with various crests line the right wall between various well-kept swords, axes and lances. The left wall is entirely comprised of bookshelves, carrying tomes large and small, old and new, colourful and bland. A large stained-glass window is set into the back wall, depicting a fully armored knight atop his steed, sword raised high above his head. The incoming light reflects off of two beautiful suits of armor on stands at the corners near the entrance. In the room's centre is a large, beautiful desk of solid wood, most of its surface area covered by a large map of the Sword Coast covered in various markings. Surrounding it are various pieces of parchment, multiple types of quill and a couple bottles of ink in different colours. Seated at this desk, in a high-backed wooden chair lined with padding, is Captain Reynolds, who looks up at you all as you enter and smirks.

"Well, look who it is! Tyr must be in a playful mood today. Why, mere moments ago I had a pair in here asking about a certain Cain Vance, and who should waltz in before the scent of their perfume has even worn out of my nostrils."

"Yes, we met them on the way in ourselves. They said the Lances wouldn't allow them to look through the records?"

"That is correct. I told them that if they want to have a look through our official records, they would need to take up a petition with Lord Filmarya himself. Unfortunately for them, Lord Filmarya is currently attending a meeting of the Council of Waterdeep - I am merely taking care of his duties in his stead.

That being said, if their client truly is one of the more influential families of Waterdeep, I may have just stuck my neck out for you, adventurer. Is there anything you'd care to share with me?"

"Just that we've successfully completed the contracts, and have quite a bit to report in."

He pauses for a second, "But no, there's nothing to say about the matter. Those two are likely hired bounty hunters looking for someone who happened by here and got his name lost through the countless paperwork of adventurers taking up contracts. Once we settle up here, I'll be up and out of Leilon first thing ... though, I do appreciate the help. I hope you can trust me when I say that they're the bad guys, here."

The captain sighs and shakes his head.

"Look, I'm in no position to turn down help, and as far as I'm concerned, your actions have spoken for themselves. I'm not particularly interested in your past, apart from how it may impact the present. If you can confidently say this isn't going to bring more trouble upon us, then I'm inclined to let it slide."

He rubs his eyes and lets out a yawn, and you realize that he looks like a man who has not gotten a good night's rest in quite some time.

"Now then, you said you completed your contracts, yes?"

Storm steps forward and clears his throat. He proceeds to recount their adventure since leaving Leilon last with just enough embellishments to make it a proper story.

"...the unruly spirit hid inside the shadows of the cave as thunder boomed and waves crashed..."

"...death everywhere. From below them they came. Pincers slashing at anything that moved. Their heads skewered onto the mandibles of monsters!"

"...we rescued him, shell shocked and terrified. His mind lost to the stench of death around him.... .... and off we sent him with a travelling merchant band bound for Neverwinter."

"...the orcs descended upon the ranch! The hoard roaring and beating their drums. But there we hid among the crops, ready to roar death back at them!"

"...it looked like all hope was lost. The farmhouse over run, the Ranch owner cried as he proposed we burn his home down and flush them out. But hope was not lost that day, not for us. We stormed the doors..."

"...a quick stop in Phandalin, the first really night among civilization since leaving Leilon..."

"...we raced ahead of the Dragon but it swooped down and cut off the pass ahead. We battled it; ice, teeth and all. We threw everything we had at it, everything we knew."

"...realizing the threat was not it, but us, the dragon fled East. But it will be back..."

1d20 (7) + 6 = 13

1d20 (19) + 6 = 25
...and with a little help from his companions supporting his retelling.

The captain listens intently to Storm's telling of events, an occasional look of skepticism creeping across his face - but at the end of it all, he still looks rather impressed.

"Well, that certainly explains the delay. We just sent a small number of men to Phandalin this morning after hearing report of yesterday's sighting. I had no idea that you were caught right in the centre of it.

If you managed to drive the dragon east, even for a time, then you certainly have done the entire coast a great service. That should buy the Reavers some time to complete their preparations as well."

"We were just bout to lookit the job board, but if yeh have any important matters yeh need some responsible fellas for, this lot has proven themselves, Captain. Anything at all..."

"Indeed they have, which reminds me..."

Captain Reynolds reaches into a drawer on his left and pulls out a pouch containing one hundred gold pieces, placing it on the table in front of him.

"Although it sounds like the delivery went somewhat sideways, you still certainly earned this reward.

Now, on to next steps. With plans in motion to put an end to the dragon, our attention now turns to back-up plans and dealing with the aftermath. Both of these will require retreading familiar ground for you lot. There is an old fortress to the east, among the mountains, where the people of Leilon and Phandalin would need to take shelter if it should come to the worst. It has been sealed for many years, but is both spacious and safe. However, in my experience, no abandoned fortress stays empty for long. We need it investigated and, if necessary, cleared out.

On the other hand, the various orcs driven from their home by the dragon have been cause for increasing concern. We have reports from Neverwinter Wood of growing sightings - and more importantly, some seem to have fallen sway to spellcasters that dwell within the forest. The last thing we need right now is an army of orcs at the beck and call of some evil cult.

We'd be grateful if you were to take on either of these jobs. The details can be found posted in the usual place."

Rowan steps forward and palms the money pouch, and slips it under his cloak without even checking the weight. The hat is on his head a moment later, and with a slow and lazy tip of its brim, "Captain." the human looking ranger nods to his companions and makes his exit.

Cain begins for the exit before pausing, and turning around back to the Captain.

"My paperwork, where would you keep that sort of thing?"

"My better judgment tells me that's not a question I should answer. Unless you can convince me otherwise."

"Should those two get permission by Lord Filmarya to see those records, they might not be so happy with what they find. For both our sakes, what say we just replace it with a new contract?"

"I don't want any trouble for Leilon, or yourself. The four of us have been doing our part in protecting the Sword Coast, and have already risked out lives in the last week more than most adventures can say they ever have in a lifetime."

1d20 (8) + 4 = 12

"I appreciate your concern, but whatever hell I may receive for not turning you over, I'd get tenfold if I falsified records. As of right now, my conscience is clean - I never said you weren't here, I simply refused them access to the registration records, as is fully within my authority to do.

I would suggest that you keep yourself from suggesting deception as a course of action to a captain of the Lances of Leilon in the future."

Cain nods slowly, "Right ... well, we'll go see about these new contracts then.", and he follows Rowan out the door.

"And if you fancy yourself some exquisite butter from beyond the land, do not hesitate."

Storm bows and heads out.

"Captain, where might one find a blacksmith? I am in need of a place to work on some equipment for my companions and myself. Perhaps the one you bring your equipment to for repair?"

"All smith work in Leilon goes through the Lionshield Coster. Fomner will take care of whatever needs you may have."

Storm turns on his heel just before exiting and returns to the Captain.

"Oh one last thing Captain. Considering Wynn's beast of burden died in the line of action on behalf of the Lance's, shall we notify Wynn for you that the Lance's will be covering the cost of the replacement...?"

1d20 (19) + 6 = 25

The captain nods, reaches into the drawer once more. This time he procures an empty pouch and begins counting gold pieces into it.

"I suppose your proposition is fair. The standard price of a strong, trained ox like that around here is about fifty gold pieces. You may offer this to Wynn as compensation for his loss."

Storm takes it with a bow. "This one will deliver the news and compensation personally."

"I will inquire after Fomner at the Lionshield Coster. Perhaps they would be willing to let me work on my own project." Govath heads out behind his other companions.

The four of you take your leave, heading back outside to check the job board. On it, you find the following two postings:

"Within a mountain fifteen miles southwest of Phandalin stands the ancient dwarven fortress of Axeholm, which has been sealed for years. If a dragon attack is imminent, the people of Leilon and Phandalin might need to evacuate and take refuge in Axeholm. To that end, someone needs to open the fortress and make it safe for habitation. Once you accomplish these tasks, return to Captain Reynolds to collect a reward of 250 gp."

"The orcs have fallen under the sway of evil spellcasters in Neverwinter Wood, and have been sighted in growing numbers near Falcon's Hunting Lodge. The spellcasters dwell in a ruined manse. Falcon needs someone to make a preemptive strike against it. Destroy the evil in the manse, then expect him to reward you."

Storm begins shoving coins into his Xorn coin bank while reading the contacts and contemplating which one would be best.

"This one is more interested in the ancient fortress but the reward of Falcon is curious. It's hard to choose...but Axeholm would be my choice."

"The dwarves ruins do sound a nice change from more orcs, but you all can decide."

"I am off to the Lionshield Coster to see if work on the mithral armour can begin."

"And this one will be at Wynn's searching for useful things for the journey. And passing along the news of Winnifred's untimely demise. Good luck choosing!"

Storm walks off and raises a wave over his shoulder.

As the group begins to split, Cain calls out, "Let's meet back at the Tusk!", before he himself heads for the Tavern.

Ruggo and Storm make their way to the end of the shopping district toward the familiar door of Wynn's Wares. They push it open and hear the usual chime of the bell, and are greeted on the other side by what sounds like quiet carnival music. Looking to a nearby shelf, they spot the little toy carousel which Wynn was repairing during their first visit, now fully functional, spinning away and playing its song.

The old elf himself sits on his stool behind the counter, a magnifying glass to his eye, examining what appears to be a small glass sphere. His raises his head as you enter, still absent-mindedly holding the magnifying glass to his face.

"Well! The winsome wanderers return to Wynn's Wares! Has Winnifred been returned to Wyliam? One expects she is worn and wishing to win some wonderfully well-deserved rest."

Rowan hears the old elf speak, and turns right back around and out the door again. "I'll be at the Lionshield Coster! Have fun with....that."

Storm waits for Ruggo to leave before entering his favourite shop on the Sword Coast. He looks around to take in all the strange objects as he makes his way to the counter.

"Wynn...Winnifred's wasted."

Storm goes into details regarding the contract and how it went sideways. He plays up how valiant Winnifred fought until the end.

"As she was in the service of the Lance's of Leilon, this one has negotiate they compensate your loss. How much does a beast of burden like her cost to replace?"

At the news, Wynn remembers to lower his magnifying glass, his face drooping disappointedly.

"Winnifred, wasted? What woe this word wracks Wynn with! The wonderful Winnifred was Wynn's one unwavering worker - besides Wyliam.

Still, Wynn is walking on wind to witness the wanderers return whole after withstanding such wickedness! Wynn would wager the worth of a wonderful beast like Winnifred upwards of fifty gold pieces - one would wish as much from the Lances' wealth."

Storm whistles at that price.

"Well sounds like Winnie was worth the world. It is a good thing the Lance's have the wealth."

Storm retrieves the coin pouch and his Xorn Coin Collector from his pack. He pushes the pouch over to Wynn and begins to count out 25 more gold pieces from his collector to total 50gp.

"There you go, paid in full by the Lance's. This one hopes your next animal companion shares a similar name to Winnifred."

"Now to business! Do you still have the music box put aside for me? 25 gold pieces was it?"

Wynn takes the fifty gold pieces with a bow of appreciation, and then procures the Modron music box that he saved for you. He confirms the agreed-upon price.

"Will you be whisking this wonder away this week, wanderer?"

Storm fumbles around counting how much money he has left and comes up severely short handed. He stashes his coin collector away.

"We depart tomorrow for either Neverwinter Wood again to deal with an orc incursion or to Axeholm to prepare the way for citizens of Leilon and Phandalin to use it as a refuge in times of danger. This one hopes the task will be Axeholm but the group guide will decide."

Storm looks over across the counter.

"How is work on your construct? Have you solved it's mysteries?"

"Wynn wishes it were so! Two wanderers from Waterdeep entered Wynn's Wares whispering of a wicked man that Wynn has not witnessed. When hearing from whence they wandered, Wynn asked whether Nimblewright repair was within their wont. The wanderers confirmed to Wynn that without the will of a wizard, the Nimblewright won't work. Woefully, Leilon has no wealth of wizards."

"Don't pay any mind to the two wanderers. They were roaming around town on the hunt for someone and stirring up trouble."

Storm regards the Nimblewright for a moment. "Well fear not, this one will find a wizard capable of completing that thing. Or at least the knowledge to do so. The hunt is still on and my adventures take me far...ish."

"This one has a few coins to spend and will wander your shelves for a bit looking for anything new that stands out." Storm waltzes lazily around the store.

You look around the shop once more, but very few new things have been acquired since your previous visit. You do find one interesting contraption - a small oil flask which easily fits in your palm. At the flask's opening is fitted a contraption comprising of a steel gear, a piece of a flint, and a cloth wick that drops down into the oil. You find that by using your thumb, you can cause the gear to grind against the flint, creating a spark which lights the small wick on fire.

The tiny flame doesn't produce much light, but you realize could be used to quickly and conveniently light other things on fire.

A small piece of parchment tied to the device reads 5 gp.

Storm works the contraption a few times to get the motion right with his clawed thumb. He nods and begins to walk back to Wynn. But his eye catches a neatly folded blanket, thick and of solid cloth material. Storm puts down the fire starter and opens up the blanket.

It's brightly coloured with patterned shapes cascading out from its center. The colors dance and clash with one another making it either a brilliant creative piece or the biggest eye sore ever.

"Wynn, I can't seem to find a price for this throw. How much for it?"

"Ah, you wish to buy Wynn's woven wrap! Wynn wove it warm enough to withstand the weariest winter, way back when. You'll welcome the wee worth of one gold piece!"

Storm quickly counts the coins in his collector. Then he pauses and contemplates his rations or lack of...

He slams down 6 gold pieces, the blanket and the fire starter.

"Deal! And please continue to hold onto the Modron Music Maker. This one will have enough money for it when next in Leilon. And hopefully with help for your Nimblewright!"

Storm bids Wynn good bye before exiting his favourite shop on the Sword Coast.

Storm races out of Wynn's Wares holding the new blanket. It waves behind him in the wind much like his cloak. The two pieces are enough to make a drunk throw up, but it's just right.

He runs to the Sword where the horses are being stable. He tosses Wynn's Woven Wrap over Spirit of the Wind.

"Now we match! You may not be a dinosaur of Nyanzaru, but you're the next best thing."

He pets his horse for a time before finding the others at the Tusk.

Meanwhile, Ruggo returns to the street that the barracks is on, turning the opposite direction to arrive at the Lionshield Coster. He enters just in time to hear Govath ask Fomner how much it would cost to make two pieces of studded leather armour using the mithral from the chain mail.

"Well, let's see. The suits of regular leather armour will run ye ten gold pieces each, and I figure the cost o'making this chain mail into studs and workin' them int'ee the leather would run yeh about thirty. So yer lookin' at a total cost of about fifty gold, altogether - a fair discount over the ninety for two studded leather suits, if ye don't mind me sayin' so! And ye can be sure it'll be the lightest, finest armour this side o'Triboar, mark me words!"

Upon spotting the familiar face entering, Fomner waves and shouts over.

"Welcome back, my friend! Hope that fine bow is treatin' you well! I'll be right with ye once I'm done helpin' this fine gentledwarf here."

"Take yer time, Fomner. I'll have a looksee."

As you take your looksee, you can't help but notice your own heavy crossbow mounted on one wall of the shop. It appears to have been cleaned and tuned up, and has a label beside it reading 50 gp.

"Fifty gold is a good price. What say you to half now and the remainder on pick up? And what is the current back order, when would work be able to start on the armour?"

Noticing a familiar voice, and turning briefly. "Ah Ruggo, do we have our next job selected?"

"I took 'em both, mate. I reckon we're used to it now."

"We best be off soon then."

Turning back to Fomner. "Any chance on a rush order for a fee?"

"Well, I can start the work right away, but o'course these days if any of the Lances need somethin' done, it takes priority. I can'ee imagine the smeltin', moldin' an' puttin' it all together takin' less than two days, without interruption. So what say ye come back end o'day on the twentieth and we'll try and have it done for ye by then?

No need for any rush fee - we always try to get jobs done s'fast as we can for our customers. An' no need for half up-front, either - you're leavin' the armour with us, after all, so if we don't get paid when the job's done, we'll just sell it!"

He gives a little wink at this last bit.

"'Course, I don't expect that's gon'ee be a problem."

"That will do just fine. If I am delayed picking it up, do not sell it right away, I am simply held up dealing with some deadly beast in the old dwarven ruins or some mage in the high forest... No rest for those finishing a final project."

"Heh! Not to worry, we give a generous grace period to adventurers while they're out an' about.

Now then, thanks for yer patience, friend - I can'ee help but notice that yer holdin' yer old weapon there. Don't tell me the bow wasn't up to snuff?"

"Naw, it's a beaut fer sure! Mighty fine weapon and performed as I'd expect from a craftsman of yer reputation. It's jus'..." he pulls it to his shoulder and aims down the sight with one eye. "I didn't think I'd miss her so much. Lotta good times, got me outta some hairy situations." He sees the dwarf's expression. "It ain't buyer's remorse, I swear mate, it's seller's remorse. But I can't help but notice some... upgrades?"

"Aye, t'weren't much really, just gave it a clean and made some adjustments to the retention spring an' barrel t'make loadin' bolts faster. A little practice an' I imagine a skilled crossbowman could line up a bolt in a second or two, flat."

The look on Rowan's face is both impressed and incredulous. "That's...all I've ever wanted! I picked up this longbow from yeh fer a bit of faster shootin', but this.... Wouldya be open to a swap? Again? I'll gladly pay the difference now that this bow has been off the lot and around the block fer a turn. And fer the upgrade. What's yer price, mate?"

"Ah, I'd feel like a thief fer takin' the longbow back at me usual rate, with so little wear. And t'reclaim yer own weapon, at that! Why don't we call it three-quarters o' the cost - I'll give ye thirty-seven for the longbow back, puttin' the remainder on yer old crossbow at thirteen gold pieces. An' I'll trade each arrow ye got left for a bolt, no extra charge."

The grizzled human ranger lets out a long whistle and shakes his head in disbelief. "That's more'n generous, Fomner. I'll be singing yer praises up and down the whole of Faerun thats fershore! I have twenty-one arrows, an' I'll take that deal fer the bolts, and I'll buy another twenty bolts as well. I'll be goin' through em twice as fast with yer upgrade. What'll it be?" And he opens his money pouch to count.

"Crossbow bolts are five copper a piece, so yer total is fourteen gold pieces. I'll take the bow and arrows an' see if we can't find another home for them."

"Thankee, mate! Pleasure doin' business."

With all intended business conducted, the three of you return to The Orc's Tusks, where Cain waits patiently at a table. This being your first time witnessing it, the Tusks looks very different during the day - much of the scum and wear that pervades the place is hidden by the crowd, hearth and torchlight. Now, at around noon, the place is empty, and the little daylight that makes it through the dirty windows reveals what a dingy dive the place actually is.

Rowan takes a seat with Cain, lazily leaning back on two legs of the chair. "Cozy place. So what yeh get yerself up to, Ca.... Pim."

Cain is sitting at a table where his back isn't exposed, with a clear view of the door. Relief comes upon him when he sees the trio enter the tavern.

"Just ... waiting. It's been quiet here, though. Is everyone ready to head out? What contract did we decide on dealing with?"

Rowan takes the contracts and spreads them on the table. "I reckon we can do both again. I'd start with the dwarf fortress."

"Fortress sounds a fine option. That way, should the orcs or dragon attack the towns folk can seek refuge there."

"Fortress sounds most important. If the magic orc issue becomes a grave problem, surely Neverwinter will send out protection in the meantime."

Storm looks around the room to ensure no one is close to overhear...

"Should we be heading out right away? Those bounty hunters were asking around for you, they even stopped at Wynn's. It might look a little suspicious if we skipped town after their questioning. Maybe we should spend the day here today. Go lounge around town, be spotted hanging out without a worry."

"Could use a nice day off."

"I dunno, we're adventurers with two contracts to fulfill. I don't reckon it's sus' in the least. And with the information yeh gave those two I bet they're on the road and not stickin' around to see who's in a hurry teh leave."

"They seemed pretty suspicious about us and we don't know what they know. If this one was doing their job, watching my leads to see who cracks and leaves town would be the priority. But alas, we do have work to do. So we head out for Axeholm today?"

Rowan turns to Cain. "'s yer neck, Pim. Whatever yeh wanna do."

"The armour will not be ready for a few days still, after the delays on our last contracts I feel the sooner we begin the better."

"Those two will be suspicious of anyone passing through here, but hiding in plain sight might have worked a bit in our favour. They're not going to stop us from leaving, they're not in the position to anyway. I say we head out and deal with our contracts as planned, the fortress sounds good to me."

"Though, I wish we could have fixed the paperwork ..."