27 June 2021
The party
·
Kisandra Starlight –Half-Elf Sorceress (Heather)
·
Barendil Dawnwood – Elf Ranger (Robert)
·
Guillerme don d’Lyonne – Human Paladin (Martin)
·
Friar Buck Norris – Human Cleric (Silas)
·
Nobby Nobbs – Human (probably) Rogue (Tom)
An Old Friend
Kisandra shook her head as Guillerme continued to berate
Nobby for messing with his property again, demanding his dragonchess piece be
returned. As she turned away from the escalating argument, she saw a familiar
figure across the common room; it was her mentor and adoptive father, Bran
Hornraven. Despite the letter he had sent her to tell her that he would await
her return to Phandalin in the Stonehill Tavern, she was still overcome with
emotion to actually see him here. He had not seen her yet as he was facing in
the other direction, sipping from a small glass, so she tiptoed up behind him
and threw her arms around his shoulders. The old man turned in surprise, his
face quickly settling into a warm smile as he realised who it was that had
accosted him.
“Kisandra, my dear,” said Hornraven with affection, “it is
so good to see you.”
Bran returned the hug and suggested that the two of them
retire to his rented accommodation in the tavern so that they might speak in
private. They ascended the stairs arm in arm and entered a room furnished with
a low bed and a wide desk which was covered in books and papers that were
spilling onto the floor. Clearly, Hornraven had been spending his time waiting
in Phandalin busily researching.
The old man sat himself down on the bed and gestured to
Kisandra to take the chair in front of the desk, as the little bronze
pseudodragon hopped up beside him on the bed. He stroked its chin and tickled
behind its ears as the little creature purred with delight.
“Let me take a closer look at this little fellow,” Hornraven
said as he leaned in towards the miniature dragon. “My, my, my, isn’t he a
wonder? You really must give him a name my dear.”
Kisandra said that she had been racking her brains for a
good name and that the best she had come up with was ‘Aster’ – derived from an
ancient word for ‘star’.
“What a lovely idea,” smiled Hornraven, “very personal to
you. I had a few thoughts myself, related to his nature as a bronze or the fact
he is a small dragon. Something like Sparky or Flash Heart to reflect his
affinity to lightning; alternatively, Draco, Drakon, Kaida or Puff to speak to
his draconic ancestry. But, to be honest, none of my ideas are as good as yours
– Aster is a fantastic name as far as I am concerned.”
“We should see if he likes it then,” suggested Kisandra,
putting out her arm for the creature to hop on to.
The little pseudodragon purred and hummed in delight as they
asked whether he liked the name Aster, which they took to mean he was happy
with it. Hornraven said that the very act of naming him would only strengthen
the connection between Kisandra and her companion, creating a deeper bond between
them. Certain abilities might be revealed, such as the magical resistance that
pseudodragons were known to possess; Hornraven had read that this could be shared
by someone that was closely bonded with one of the little dragons.
“So, what of your other companions?” he asked.
Kisandra laughed and
leaned back in her chair.
“Well,” she said with a grin, “where do I start? We’ve got a
paladin who is always looking for validation from his father. He’s a pain, often
gets on my nerves, but to be honest I do feel sorry for him because of his
upbringing. There’s a good heart there; often well hidden, but he generally
means well.”
Hornraven nodded with understanding and took another sip
from his little glass.
“Who’s next…” continued Kisandra, tapping her chin
thoughtfully. “Ah, Buck, the cleric. Very likeable fellow, useful in battle, but
he does seem to think he’s a bit of a lothario with the ladies. Well, this is
one lady he won’t be getting his hands on!”
She laughed at that, then frowned as Hornraven asked about
Nobby.
“Nobby, that little rogue,” she said, “he needs to be
watched. Constantly. He’s been incredibly helpful to us, but I can’t trust him
as far as I can throw him. There is something about him, and he is getting
better, but more than once I’ve had to stop his grubby little hands from taking
anything that isn’t nailed down.”
Kisandra sipped her drink before saying, “and, last but not
least, Barendil. He can be a bit dour at times, but he is incredibly dependable
and goes out of his way to look out for the party as a whole. He’s someone I
can talk to.”
“I’m glad,” Hornraven said with a nod. “I was a little
unsure about leaving you with that group of misfits after our experience in the
dwarf mine near Chestnut Hollow, but it seems that you have gelled as a unit – I
mean, just look at what you’ve achieved in a short space of time!”
Kisandra was pleased with the approving comments from
Hornraven, and had to agree that she was pleased with what she and her
companions were doing. They might wind her up on occasion, but they were there
when it counted. She asked Hornraven if he knew anything more about the dragon
cult that they encountered in Thundertree. He wasn’t familiar with this
particular one, but he was aware that there were always cults dedicated to one
form of evil or another, drawing in the weak-willed. In his experience, dragon
followers tended to be bound to a single draconic master – one large, powerful
dragon who commanded lesser beings around to do their bidding. So, this cult
sounded like something slightly different, perhaps more dangerous. It would
need to be investigated further, though he did say that there were always
people out looking to destroy the world or kill everyone – fortunately, most of
them were incompetent otherwise the world would have ended long ago! Still, he
agreed that more information was required, and they should exercise caution
should they encounter these cultists again.
As regards the Black Spider, Hornraven was intrigued by what
Kisandra had learned so far. He wasn’t familiar with this particular dark elf,
but in his experience, it was unusual for drow to venture from the Underdark on
their own. He had heard of one such occasion in the frozen wastes of Icewind
Dale to the north; a dark elf outcast by the name of Drizzt Do’Urden, but that
case was even more unusual as that drow was reported to have helped the peoples
of Ten Towns. All accounts that Hornraven had read regarding dark elf interaction
with surface dwellers referred to raiding parties surging forth from
underground, killing and taking what they could before returning to their subterranean
home. He was unsurprised by the goblin involvement, as the drow were well known
to enslave and rule what they considered to be ‘lesser’ beings, but overall he
couldn’t fathom anything more about the Black Spider’s motivations or
intentions beyond what Kisandra had already learned.
By this time, it was getting late, so Kisandra said goodnight
to Hornraven and returned downstairs to the common room to see what her
companions were up to. He said again how good it was to see her, and assured
her that he would be around as long as she needed him.
 |
Kisandra and her father, Bran,
discuss recent events in private |
Dissent in the Ranks
When Kisandra returned to the party in the common room, a
serious disagreement was brewing. Guillerme was complaining about the state of
the party’s finances – apparently, when Nobby had earlier handed over the gold
to the dwarf in the taxidermist shop, Guillerme hadn’t been paying attention
and thought they still had the opportunity to haggle or change their minds
about it. Anyone who knew anything about dwarfs knew that all sales were final,
but Guillerme was obstinate as ever. Nobby, unusually, tried to act as the
voice of reason by pointing out that the blacksmith’s bill was 4,000 gold – far
more than they had spent with the taxidermist, even if the purchases were
considered somewhat frivolous. Buck reiterated his position that he was happy
for Nobby to spend the money; if it brought a smile to the rogue’s face then
that was worth it to the cleric. He was certainly quite convincing at making it
sound as if this opinion had nothing to do with the relative size of the
blacksmith’s bill.
Nobby continued to try and placate Guillerme by saying, with
confidence, that they would make that money back easily enough. They were
headed for Cragmaw Castle and the thief could almost taste the potential riches
the goblin tribe was hiding within its walls.
“But what happens when we get to the castle and there’s no
drawbridge and we have to pay someone to cross the moat, but we can’t because
we have no money?!” wailed the paladin.
The rest of the party looked at each other in some
confusion. They had no idea whether Cragmaw Castle had a moat, let alone
whether there would be some sort of ferryman, but they thought it unlikely. There
was a pause while they considered how to deal with Guillerme’s mounting, and
largely unfounded, concerns. It was Barendil who finally spoke up.
“We’ve got bows, we got arrows, we’ve got swords and we’ve
got attitude,” said the elf, crossing his arms. “What else do we need?”
As far as Barendil was concerned, the matter was closed and
he could return to eating his lamb shank pie. Guillerme saw the looks on the
rest of the party and finally decided he was fighting a losing battle. In reality,
if there ever was a battle that he could fight about the matter, it was long
past. Anyway, he decided to stick in one final petty jab about spending
whatever he wanted from the party’s coffers in future, seeming to forget that
it was Nobby’s sticky fingers on the party’s purse strings.
Nobody reacted to Guillerme’s comment and so he quickly
changed subject in an attempt to lighten the mood. He had received a letter
from Sildar when he last went to the bar, addressed to the party as a whole, in
response to some of their concerns regarding Thundertree. Kisandra walked down
the stairs and joined her companions as Guillerme was summarising the letter,
and she was very pleased to hear that Sildar appeared to be taking her
suggestions seriously in terms of consulting with the Dendrar family and
looking after the little people during the rejuvenation of Thundertree.
Sildar had also traced the history of Cragmaw Castle, as
promised, and revealed in his letter that it was originally Arvingdon Hold, a
remnant of the Kingdom of Phalorm which was most likely abandoned and falling
into disrepair long before the Cragmaw goblins infested it. Kisandra was able
to recall some of the history of Phalorm from her studies, telling the others
that it was an ancient kingdom that covered much of the Sword Coast region some
900 years or so before the current age. Though it was a relatively short-lived
kingdom, it comprised a coalition of dwarves, elves, gnomes, halflings and
humans – an alliance reminiscent of the Phandelver Pact that established Wave
Echo Cave centuries later. The Kingdom of Phalorm fell, but there were places
such as Arvingdon Hold that harked back to those times.
Following the history lesson, Kisandra informed the group of
what she had learned from her conversation with Bran Hornraven. She left out
some of the more personal aspects as well as her private opinions of her companions,
but there was still plenty of information to relay. They were particularly
interested to learn more of Aster, her pseudodragon, as well as the conjecture
surrounding dark elf behaviour.
 |
A letter from Sildar Halwinter to the party
ahead of his departure for Thundertree |
History of a Cleric
“I have something to get
off my chest,” announced Buck abruptly, slamming his tankard down on the table.
“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and I think now is the
time to do it.”
Intrigued, the rest of
the party gathered round. It wasn’t often that Buck would make such
pronouncements, so they figured it was worth listening to what the Friar had to
say. He began to talk.
I've got pretty thick skin, I’ve been around the block a
few times, and I'm more likely to be amused rather than angered by an insult.
But a while ago, when Nobby called me a ‘religious nutter’, that stung. Because... well, I'm simply not. At least not in the eyes of those who would
claim to be my superiors. I try to be,
but my heart's not in it. It’s complicated... let me try to explain.
I joined the Brotherhood of Kord as a young lad, along with
my best mate Roderick. It beat working the land - not that there's anything
wrong with that - but service to Kord meant physical training, games of strength
and speed, sparring, and so on. Turns out we had to work twice as hard in the
monastery - cooking, cleaning, smithing, tilling the monastery's own gardens. I
think that recruitment officer saw us coming!
Nonetheless, we relished acolyte life. We weren't entirely
isolated - we lived for market day, when the brothers would head into town to
preach the good word. Don’t roll your eyes Nobby. We'd set up a fighting ring
in a corner of the market square, put on demonstration bouts and challenge all
comers. We'd revel in our strength and prowess, all for the glory and honour of
Kord. Then, in the evenings, we'd sneak back into town and - hoo boy! - make
the most of what the city had to offer. Heady days indeed.
Many years passed, and my powers grew. Clearly, I was
favoured by Kord - not every acolyte has the abilities I do - and I was made a
Cleric. And yet... I was restless. I
disagreed with the way the monastery was going about its business. A new High Priest had been ordained, and he
was a cruel man, preferring to convert the masses though fear and intimidation.
These are the true nutters, Nobby, dangerous men who would use religion for
their own gain. By my reckoning if a man doesn't follow his god of his own free
will, then that god is no better than a slaver. Like the fool I am, I couldn't
keep my mouth shut. There was talk of being ejected from the monastery -
performance reviews, excessive drinking, conversion numbers, poor attitude blah
blah blah. So, in the end, I just sort of... left. I was outside the monastery walls early one
morning to collect herbs. I took a long look at what had been my home for so
long, headed for the treeline, kept walking and never looked back. To this day
I still don't know if I'm still a member of the order or not.
At first, I relied on the kindness of strangers on the road
and in villages to sustain me, and at my lowest ebb I sold blessings for coin,
for which I am ashamed. Over time I became more or less self-sufficient,
offering my skills where I could in exchange for food and lodgings - there's a
story or two or three in there, believe me!
Like the time I fell in with a group of freedom fighters, did I tell you
about this one? We lived deep in the forest, what a time that was. We were
outlaws, but justifiably so, since the Lord of that land was a right bastard
who most certainly had it coming to him. ‘Taxes’, my hairy arse! Persecution
and theft boy force, more like! Still, those were good times. Song, ale,
merriment. Embers from the bonfire rising into the canopy to mingle with the
stars. Ambushing the local militia. That sort of thing. Sadly it all ended,
quite abruptly. I won't say… the memory is... well, let's just leave it there,
maybe some other time. I digress.
Once again, I travelled the land, never stopping in any one
spot for more than a few days, because I didn't know when an agent of that same
Lord would find me try to drag me back his castle for ‘trial’, or worse. Eventually, by divine providence, yadda yadda
yadda, my path crossed with yours in The Golden Hind, and here we are.
But, and now we get to the point I'm trying to make, in all
this time Nobby, I have never truly felt the hand of Kord on my shoulder like I
did whist living in the monastery. I've been lost, spiritually speaking (and
sometimes literally!), searching for a sign, a clue, anything, for how to serve
him best. Sure, I say the right prayers and I muster as much enthusiasm as I
can but it all… it all just feels hollow.
Until recently, that is. Meeting you guys, joining the
Order of the Gauntlet, it’s given me a sense of purpose once again. And when we
encountered that blue dragon in Thundertree and those dastardly cultists I actually
got around to re-reading my sacred texts - I've carried them with me for long
enough! Did you know Kord is actually a sworn foe of dragonkind? It was news to
me! (I suppose I was never the best scholar). But if that's not a sign then I
don't know what is! That is why I was so keen to defeat that monster, despite
the overwhelming odds. It was my privilege to strike the killing blow for Kord.
And what about that blacksmith fellow at the forge, he's the very image of Kord
himself! Why, I had to bite my tongue to avoid embarrassing myself. So you see?
I swear I am no "nutter", but these are surely signs from Kord that
cannot be dismissed.
Anyway, I’m rambling on, and the beer is getting warm, so let
us toast! Friends, I'm blessed to have met you all when I did, because our
unlikely, mismatched company has found a united purpose. Cragmoor Castle, Wave
Echo Cave, the Rockseeker brothers… Brida, the future Mrs. Norris… it's all
part of some master plan, I can feel it in my cassock. Whatever this path is
that we're on I'm keen to follow it, and I couldn't ask for finer companions
for the journey. To us! Now, who wants to arm wrestle for the next round?
The companions all raised their glasses and drained the
contents, all suitably moved by Friar Buck’s words. For his part, as he wiped a
solitary tear from the side of his nose, Buck swiftly changed the subject by
drawing a newspaper from his pack and throwing it on the table in front of his
companions.
“I’ve been looking up the local news,” he said, with a wry
smile over at Guillerme. “I’m only teasing, but you can consider this payback for that dragon’s head business!”
 |
A local newspaper brings word
of Guillerme's family |
Guillerme said nothing, sipping at his flat beer and staring
down at the table. Buck reached over to give the paladin a hearty cheers,
sloshing ale over the table as he did so in an attempt to cheer him up.
Nobby sat, reflecting on how he seemed to be able to inspire
the rest of the party to be better people, convinced that he was holding the
group together almost single handed. “I’m like the unconventional glue…” he
muttered to himself as he fingered Guillerme’s dragonchess piece, that he still
had hidden in his pocket. He looked over at Buck, clearly with something on his
mind.
“It’s interesting,” began Nobby, “but in my experience, when
someone talks for that long about NOT being a religious nutter, then they
normally are a religious nutter. Just what I’ve seen in the past, of course!”
he added quickly as he saw Buck’s face.
The rest of the party laughed uproariously at this. Once the
laughter subsided, Barendil began to wonder what it was that Daran Edermath was
going to want the party to do to help pay for the dragonscale shield that they
had commissioned with Bearnivig. As if on cue, it was at this moment that Daran
walked in through the door of the inn, almost as if Barendil had some sort of
premonition!
Working for the Order
Daran sat down next to the adventurers. He had brought over
a round of ales for everyone – he’s that sort of a guy – and warmly greeted
them all.
“I hear you found Bearnivig,” Daran said while slurping his
ale. “I mean, to be honest, you could hardly miss him could you, he’s a big
bugger isn’t he! Fantastic smith though, seriously the best we have within the
Order. I appreciate that the price of the item you requested is steep, but that
simply represents the value of Bearnivig’s time and the expensive materials
that are required to properly bind dragon scales together. It wasn’t easy getting
him here on such short notice, but because of the excellent work your party has
done in the region it was justifiable to my superiors in the Order. They were
pleased to do it, but everything comes at a cost, which I’m sure he explained
to you.”
They nodded, Buck in particular appreciating that it was an
expensive shield he was after (particularly when Nobby had reminded him about
it more than once). He looked over at Guillerme.
“I’ve been thinking,” began Buck. “Guillerme, you said that
you would owe us a ‘reasonably good favour’. I’d like to call that favour in
please. That is, to coincide with the arrival of the dragon skull at your
father’s hall, I would like you to ask him for some cold hard cash. As a humble
cleric, you know I don’t have any possessions or money beyond the essentials. So,
it is a simple request – funds to help build this shield.”
“This may sound like a simple request to you,” said Guillerme,
looking particularly uncomfortable, “but my last conversation with my father
included a number of phrases along the lines of not needing his inheritance to
make my way in the world…”
“To be fair, it’s not your way in the world is it. That
might sweeten the deal?” interrupted Kisandra, ever the pedant when it came to
semantics.
“Well that is my request,” said Buck, “as a man of honour, you
promised a favour, and that’s what I’m asking for.”
Daran could see the immense discomfort in Guillerme’s face
and decided to interject.
“I can see your discomfort you’re under there, Master
paladin – and, by the way, I would like to say that you are indeed welcomed
into the Order of the Gauntlet, we are glad to have you,” said Daran as he handed
over the signet ring of the Order. “I think Bearnivig told you some of the
basics, but essentially I am looking for you to recover something for me – if you
do this, I will cover a large portion of the cost involved in constructing this
shield for you. There’s a crypt hidden in the hills to the southwest of
Phandalin, I’ll mark it on your map. I would like you to recover an artifact
from that crypt which is important to the higher-ups in the Order of the
Gauntlet, and if you do then that will take 2,500 gold off the total price of
4,000 from Bearnivig’s bill. Essentially, if you can recover this artifact then
that saves me hiring a group of mercenaries to go and get it – the Order is
stretched thin at the moment, plenty of evil needs smiting, so we’d be looking
for outside help in this case. If you can recover the artifact then that saves
us money, and I can pass those savings on to you!” he finished with a grin.
“Sounds like a deal,” said Barendil.
Daran nodded and said, “I know you’ve paid Bearnivig 1,000
gold, so he has started work already. As far as I’m concerned, three of you are
members of the Order and the others are trusted friends – more or less,” he
looked over at Nobby at this point. “As far as I’m aware, anyway… So, Bearnivig
will continue the work on faith until you return with the artifact.”
Barendil asked Daran what the item was that he wanted from
the crypt. He replied that it was an old set of plate mail armour, inscribed with
sigils of the Order of the Gauntlet. It’s an important heirloom that they would
like recovered. When Barendil questioned him further about whether there were
any dangers to be aware of, Daran shrugged.
“Well, as far as I know, it’s just an old crypt,” said
Daran, “but as you know, sometimes old crypts hold surprises.”
“They certainly do,” agreed the ranger with a nod, “they certainly
do.”
“I imagine it certainly will…” said Kisandra in an ominous
tone.
Daran said that he knew the adventurers were set on heading
to Cragmaw Castle as soon as possible, and the Order too was keen for the
goblins to be destroyed, so he said that they could recover this artifact after
heading to the castle. Bearnivig was going to take 7 to 10 days crafting the
shield anyway, which gave plenty of time for them to squash some goblins and
then go for a quick walk out to the crypt and recover the ancient armour for
him. This all sounded acceptable to the group, so they continued to enjoy their
evening in the tavern and planned to leave for Cragmaw Castle first thing in
the morning.
 |
Regional map, updated by Daran Edermath to include the
location of a hidden crypt for the party to explore |
The dwarf from the
taxidermy shop did indeed pop into the tavern and buy a round of drinks for
everyone, as he had promised he would, much to the pleasure of the entire
party.
Later that night, Buck
and Guillerme were tucked up in their beds, sharing a twin room upstairs in the
inn and whispering to each other.
“What do you think
happened to Droop?” asked Buck plaintively, “I miss his little green face.”
“To be honest, once I saw
that dragon head, I couldn’t think of anything else,” replied Guillerme, “it
was like I was obsessed. I don’t think I would have even noticed if you guys
had made it back to town, let alone the little goblin!”
“Well, let’s keep our
eyes peeled for him,” said Buck with a yawn, before rolling over and swiftly
starting to snore.
Onwards to Cragmaw Castle
The journey to Cragmaw Castle took a day or so and was
generally uneventful. The party camped on the outskirts of Neverwinter Wood
that night, with Barendil feeling incredibly relaxed beneath the leafy boughs
of the forest while Buck started to feel the effects of his magic axe, Hew,
making him feel somewhat uneasy. His sense of unease rose as Guillerme shuffled
up to him while he was trying to get comfortable under his sleeping blanket.
“Look, friend,” Guillerme began, looking at Buck sheepishly.
“I can’t just go up to my old man and ask for cash. I know, it’s a trifling
amount to him and would mean a lot to us, but if you can think of some way that
it would be an investment for him then I might be able to bend his ear for
that. At least, it would make it more likely. So, maybe have a think about what
you want, and if you can imbue it with stories through your adventures then
maybe you can hand it off to him later, he might see that as an investment.
Have a think about how we can make it something that he would like to be involved
in, rather that just asking for cold, hard cash. Just have a think…”
Guillerme’s hand was resting on Buck’s shoulder and the
cleric looked at it sleepily before asking, “so, what, like a timeshare or
something?”
The paladin laughed and said, “look, he’s a miserable old
bastard, OK? Just think about it.”
Guillerme returned to his own sleeping blanket to leave Buck
thinking, at least for the few minutes it took for the cleric to fall asleep.
Good Luck Storming the Castle!
The following morning, the party rose and made their way
through the forest, Barendil leading the way with Perry flying ahead to scout
for goblin ambushers. There was no danger that the keen-eyed hawk could see and
before long they approached the castle from the south, the thick walls looming out
above the tangled forest trees as they got closer. The walls were high and
straight and don’t look goblin-made at all, but they do look old, and the upper
stories had largely crumbled away. However, knowing how old this castle was, it
had clearly been built to last and the lower parts remained a strong bulwark
that would surely deter most attackers.
Following Nobby’s example, the party donned the red cloaks
that they had taken from Tresander Manor in the hope that they might fool the
goblin guards into thinking they were Redbrands. They then crept forward towards
the edge of the treeline and took a closer look at the castle. It was
impressive. The main entrance was on the western side, where two sets of steps
led up to a large porch. Ahead of them, on the south side, another set of steps
led up to a smaller side door. Arrow slits afforded a sheltered view from the
walls over the dead ground between the trees and the castle, making direct
approach difficult without being seen (and potentially shot with a cruel goblin
arrow). The adventurers decided to take their time to scout around.
Barendil could see many boot prints in the mud. Smaller prints
were intermingled with larger prints, indicated to the ranger that there were
different sizes of goblinoid present in the castle. The prints were so
intermingled that it also indicated that they had been here for some considerable
time, heavily patrolling their territory. They would need to be wary.
Guillerme recalled their earlier foray into Tresander Manor,
where they had managed to find a secret entrance that allowed them to rapidly
enter and capture Iarno Albrek. He now hoped that everywhere might have secret
entrances and so suggested they look for one. The rest of the party liked the
sound of that, but Buck suggested they take their time and observe the castle
first – an approach that Barendil thought was sensible considering the high
frequency of patrols that may be indicated by the tracks he had observed.
It was early morning, so the party figured they had time to
spend a few hours watching the comings and goings of the castle. Kisandra had a
new spell ability, Message, that gave her the power to silently communicate
with other members of the party over long distances. This gave them the opportunity
to spread out into groups and perform their reconnaissance while keeping in
touch with one another, which could prove invaluable. The sorceress remained to
the south of the castle, with Buck and Barendil for protection, while Nobby
snuck to the southwest and Guillerme went to the southeast. All of the party
members remained in the treeline, hopefully out of sight of the arrow slits in
the castle and hunkered down in the foliage to observe what was happening in
the goblin fortification. Kisandra was able to periodically check in with both
Guillerme and Nobby using her newfound telepathy.
Looking more closely at the castle, Kisandra could see that a
pile of rubble sat at the base of the southwestern tower. She could also see
that various crude attempts had been made to repair the damage here (the makeshift
work of the goblins no doubt), but there didn’t appear to be any way to enter
the castle through here. She relayed the message to Guillerme that there was no
practicable breach that she could see. Despite being told to expect the
telepathic message, Guillerme still jumped in surprise as he heard Kisandra whispering
in his head.
 |
| The party approach Cragmaw Castle from the south |
Barendil sent Perry flying up to one of the arrow slits in
front of him on the southern wall. The hawk had been on the sill for only a few
moments before some squeaking goblin voices shouted from inside about seeing a
‘tasty chicken’ at the window and a pair of black-fletched arrows flew out
towards the bird of prey. Perry squawked and beat her wings quickly, avoiding
the arrows, and returned to Barendil’s outstretched arm. The ranger understood
from her animated chirps and squawks that she had seen a group of goblins
within a banquet hall, preparing food in a dirty great cooking pot. He couldn’t be sure how many goblins were
there, but at least seven or eight in that room alone.
 |
| Perry's view through the arrow slit in the southern wall |
As Perry flew back into the woods to rest, Kisandra sent a
message to Nobby to inform him of the banquet hall activity and to ask the
rogue what he had seen during his time watching the front entrance. Nobby replied
that, although there were some high stairs leading to an exposed porchway
(overlooked by two towers), the actual doors into the castle were destroyed. Despite
the bronze bands reinforcing the heavy, dark wooden doors, they lay on the
ground in pieces. He figured this could be a relatively easy route into the
castle, depending on how well defended it was. On that note, he did also let
Kisandra know that he had seen a band of vicious-looking hobgoblins leave the
entrance and head out onto the road shortly before a second band returned and
stomped up the stairs into the fortress. Having spent many years in the city
watch, Nobby could recognise the trudging nature of a patrol when he saw it, so
was convinced that these hobgoblins were maintaining regular patrols in the
nearby area. The party needed to be on their guard as they surveyed the castle.
When Kisandra questioned whether it could have been the same patrol leaving the
castle and then returning, Nobby said that it wasn’t likely for a guard patrol
to head out then return ten minutes later. Well, he might return that quickly,
but a good guard wouldn’t.
Relaying this information on the hobgoblin patrols to
Guillerme, he suggested that scouting the northern side of the castle would be
prudent. While Barendil was keen to break in through the side entrance and kill
the goblins who had taken pot shots at his precious Perry, he allowed cooler heads
to prevail and waited while the others scouted for alternative entrances. Nobby
joined Barendil at the south side of the castle, while Buck went with Kisandra
to protect her as she manoeuvred to a better position to be able to retain
communication with Guillerme, who was himself moving through the trees towards
the northeast tower.
Moving as quietly as he could, Guillerme looked at the high
walls of the tower in front of him. He peered as intently as he could at a
large pile of rubble and debris at the base of the northern wall of the castle
but couldn’t see anything of interest. He gave the castle one more perfunctory glance
before turning and heading back to the rest of the party. When questioned about
his observations he shrugged and said that he couldn’t see any secret
entrances. Perhaps someone with sharper eyes would have been able to see more,
but Barendil and Nobby were both itching to go in through the southern
entrance.
Nobby pulled his red cloak close to him and scurried across
the open ground to the base of the wall, flattening himself against the
stonework. He didn’t think he had been spotted, so he sidled up the stairs and
tried the door handle. It was locked. He looked around and couldn’t see
anything of interest, having no view through any of the arrow slits, but he heard
the sounds of clattering crockery from within and squeaky goblin voices arguing
about whose turn it was to do the dishes. It didn’t seem like any of them had
noticed his approach or the jiggling door handle. Putting his hands in his
pocket, he sauntered back to the treeline and told them that the door was
locked.
“Well, I guess you better go and unlock it then, Mr. Thief!”
said Barendil with exasperation. “Don’t worry, I’ll come too, as backup.”
In fact, the entire party decided to sneak over to hide
themselves against the wall, underneath the arrow slits, before ascending the
stairs in a quiet single file line. Nobby nonchalantly stood at the front,
swaggering as he theatrically removed his bunch of lockpicks from his belt and
winked at the others before inserting the first pick into the old iron lock.
After a few minutes of fiddling around, he looked less confident and more
flustered. Guillerme put his hand on Nobby’s shoulder reassuringly, telling him
to take his time and try again. Nobby was still struggling to work the lock
effectively and so Buck put his hand on the rogue’s other shoulder, imparting
divine Guidance to help his efforts.
“Use the force, Nobby,” the cleric whispered, “trust your
instincts.”
Sweating, Nobby hoped to all that he believed in that no
goblins were going to open the door at this moment and see him on his knees,
struggling with the lock and with these two large lads’ hands on his shoulders.
Fortunately for him, whether through the divine Guidance or the reassurance of
his companions, Nobby heard a little click, and the door was unlocked. He opened
the door a crack and peeked through, where he could see an empty corridor.
There was a door to his left, and a heavy curtain up ahead across the
passageway that was strewn with rubble. Seeing no immediate threats, Nobby
opened the door, and the party began their exploration of the interior of
Cragmaw Castle.
 |
The party carefully sneak up the stairs
on the south side of the castle |
Buck and Guillerme guarded the unopened door while Kisandra
and Barendil took up position just inside the entrance they had walked through,
ready to shoot any emerging threats with arrows and spells. Nobby went to peek
through the heavy curtain, but before he did, Barendil beckoned him over and
placed a bag of caltrops into the rogue’s hands, in case they proved useful.
As he pulled the curtain gently to one side, Nobby saw that
the next section of corridor was likewise empty, with doors to the left and
right and another heavy curtain ahead. More rubble and debris lay on the floor,
but there was no sign of movement. They agreed that it was time to go through
the closed door, which likely led to the banquet hall and a number of goblins. The
question was, as always, how to do this.
Guillerme, unsurprisingly, favoured a mad rush into the
room. Buck advised caution. Barendil was keen to kill some goblins, seeming
unconcerned by the details of the plan. Nobby felt that he should slip into the
room and do what he did best – killing people while they aren’t looking. This gained
the most favour within the party, especially when Buck suggested he could use a
Thaumaturgy cantrip to distract the goblins, making it easier for Nobby to slip
in unnoticed.
Friar Buck used the spell to cause the cooking flames that
Perry had seen under the pot to flicker and grow bigger and brighter. At the
same time, the cleric caused a screaming sound to emit from the fire. These
strange occurrences unnerved the goblins and caused quite a commotion as the
skittish creatures began running around, providing the perfect cover for Nobby to
slip in through the door undetected. Nobby stood inside the door, grinning. He
had his red cloak wrapped around him, but he had also used his disguise kit to
try and make himself look more like a goblin than he normally did. He giggled
to himself as he thought about his cunning. They hadn’t even seen him!
The rogue stalked forwards, drawing his rapier and stabbing
the first goblin in the small of the back, gently catching the falling corpse
and placing it silently on the ground. None of the others had noticed, they
were too distracted by the sputtering fire. Nobby grinned evilly and crept on
to his next victim, who was likewise despatched but unfortunately made a small
yelping noise as he died. A goblin with a big pointy hat, holding a mushroom,
turned to fix Nobby with a stare from his beady red eyes. He seemed like he was
the head chef-goblin.
“Oi, wot’s goin’ on ‘ere then?” demanded the head goblin in
a squeaky, nasally voice.
“Dunno guv, dunno,” replied Nobby quickly, matching the
goblin with the squeakiness of his voice. “There was a big fire and I walked in
‘ere and saw to lad lying on the floor, I dunno what’s goin’ on!”
The head goblin was well confused by the situation. Despite
the substantial evidence to the contrary, the figure standing before him didn’t
quite smell like no goblin. Plus, he was wearing a red cloak the same as those
humans that came up from the town every now and then. He didn’t know what was
going on and, for a second, it seemed like he might buy into Nobby’s deception.
Then he noticed the goblin blood dripping from the rogue’s rapier.
“Why youse killin’ goblins?!” he asked excitedly, “the food
is nearly ready! I didn’t know there was such a rush!”
“Boss ain’t happy, is he?” replied Nobby, trying to assert some
authority into his voice. “You’re taking way too long, what’s going on in
there?! This is the punishment you get, filthy goblinses.”
Nobby puffed his chest as much as he could to try and seem intimidating
to the goblin, but behind his back he was trying to signal for Buck and the
others to follow in behind and get him out of this mess. The head goblin wasn’t
overly threatened by Nobby’s display and figured that he wasn’t one of the Redbrands
after all. He screamed to his underlings to attack, just as the rest of the
party burst in through the door.
 |
| The head Chef-Goblin is almost convinced by Nobby's lies |
Displaying the height of goblin bravery, the boss turned and
ran as the party burst through the door – but he did yell at his minions to get
on and attack, as all good goblin bosses should do. And he valiantly threw a
javelin at Nobby, though it was difficult to aim when looking back over his
shoulder so it missed.
The rest of the goblins were in some disarray. Their boss
was shouting to get stuck in, but this seemed like a bunch of redbrands
bursting through the door, plus someone had taken out a couple of their mates.
Two of the goblins ran forwards to get stuck in, one of the goblins managing to
slash Nobby with a cruel scimitar. The other three loosed black-fletched arrows
at the party, two arrows missing Buck and the third piercing Nobby’s leg. He
was beginning to regret his crafty plan.
Barendil responded to the goblin arrows with one of his own,
which was a good hit on one of the archers. Rushing forwards, Guillerme held
his glaive aloft to aid Nobby against his two attackers – fortunately, Nobby’s
red cloak made him stand out from the goblins and gave Guillerme a clue of
where not to aim his weapon. With a flourish, the paladin swung his glaive just
over Nobby’s head to come down onto one of the goblins, then twirled it around
to come back and hit the goblin a second time, calling out just in time to
Nobby for the rogue to jump over the polearm. The goblin lay dead and,
fortunately, Nobby’s knees remained unscathed.
Distracted by Guillerme’s fancy attacks and unnerved at
having to attack a goblin from the front rather than behind, Nobby was unable
to land a hit on the creature in front of him. Kisandra stepped into the room
and sent a magical Fire Bolt flying towards the boss goblin, singeing his
pointy hat. Leaping into the room, Friar Buck pointed his axe towards a goblin
and shouted a war cry but tripped over as he became distracted by the fire that
he had magically enhanced. He smashed into the barrels at the side of the hall,
breaking some of them and spilling the contents on the flagstones. It wasn’t
good beer that came out, but the cleric was disappointed in himself all the
same for the wastage.
The goblins retaliated. Buck, sitting in the ruins of the
barrels, made a tempting target for one of the archers, while another shot back
at Barendil. Neither of these hit but the third loosed a remarkably accurate
arrow at Guillerme, hitting the paladin in the shoulder. Nobby was slashed once
more by the goblin in front of him and was starting to feel weaker than normal.
The goblin boss threw another poorly-aimed javelin, at Buck this time, and
continued to flee towards a door at the far end of the room, perhaps to gather
reinforcements.
Barendil tried to slow the goblin boss with an arrow but
failed to hit, so Guillerme leaped forwards and caught it a ringing blow with
his glaive. Finally, Nobby managed to stab the goblin in front of him, skewering
it like a kebab and then running forwards to try and prevent the goblin boss
running out through the door in a surprising act of teamwork, especially
considering the injuries he had suffered. Kisandra hit the goblin with another Fire
Bolt just before Buck charged into the little goblin. The flaring magical bolt
must have distracted Buck as he was unable to connect with his axe.
Nobby’s gambit had paid off; the goblin couldn’t escape
through the door. He was also now surrounded by enemies. He frantically slashed
at the rogue, causing more damage to him, though Nobby managed to remain on his
feet. Seeing their boss in trouble and their mates cut down, the two goblin
archers turned tail and ran towards the southwest, towards the tower in the
corner of the castle. Barendil immediately gave chase, drawing his bow as he
ran. As he rounded the corner, he could see into the tower where three more
goblins lay in wait. This appeared to be a filthy barracks room for the
goblins. Barendil loosed an arrow before any of the goblins could react, hitting
one through the eye and dropping it to the floor.
 |
| Goblin reinforcements in the southwest tower barracks |
Guillerme and Nobby both failed in their attempts to kill
the goblin boss. Nobby then ducked and weaved out of the way, realising that he
probably couldn’t take another hit from its vicious scimitar. Kisandra couldn’t
draw a bead on the goblin for her spells with her companions in the way, and
Buck also failed to hit. However, the boss goblin was in no position to
retaliate or escape, so he remained trapped where he was.
Another black-fletched arrow hit Guillerme, knocking the
paladin back slightly. Barendil retaliated with an arrow of his own which,
though accurate, did not prove fatal. Guillerme likewise managed to hit, but
not kill, one of the goblins. Now that he was standing out of harm’s way, Nobby
decided to use his crossbow to shoot the boss goblin, which was accurate and
went straight through his pointy hat to pin his head against the wooden door
that he had been so desperate to escape through.
Kisandra used a Fire Bolt to finish off the goblin that
Barendil had previously wounded, leaving just a handful of enemies in the
southwest tower to deal with. Buck still couldn’t get the weight of his axe
right, perhaps it was the uneasiness that the magical axe exuded from being into
the outskirts of Neverwinter Wood, but he missed again. In retaliation, one of
the goblins stabbed him in the thigh.
One of the goblins ran to the north and knocked on another
door which opened to reveal a surprised goblin face looking out. Apparently,
this goblin hadn’t heard the commotion through the thick door, but now that it
had been alerted a couple more goblins came out to reinforce their mates. This
castle was like a rabbit warren, with more and more goblins holed up all over the
place, ready to creep out and fight intruders. The adventurers, however, could
probably breathe a sigh of relief that they hadn’t had to deal with all the
goblins in one enormous swarm…
 |
| More goblins join the fray from the southern guard post |
Barendil swiftly despatched another goblin with a twang of
his bow. As Guillerme continued fighting the goblin in front of him, slicing
the injured creature to pieces, he called back to the others to keep the goblin
boss alive for interrogation, not realising that Nobby had deftly skewered his
brains with a crossbow bolt. The paladin wished that he had paid a little more
attention to what his companions were doing.
Buoyed by his previous crossbow execution, Nobby leaped up
onto a table in front of him to get a better view down onto the melee in front
of him. Unfortunately, the debris of a goblin feast littered the wooden
tabletop and it was slick with grease and other unmentionable substances,
causing the rogue to slip and fall while his crossbow misfired up into the
ceiling.
Kisandra’s spell was inaccurate this time but, finally, Buck
managed to get the heft of the axe correct and he swung it with deadly
efficiency to decapitate one of the goblins. One of the two remaining goblins
fired an arrow that hit Guillerme, while Barendil’s return fire was
ineffective. The paladin swung his glaive in a big arc that killed that goblin,
while Buck moved up next to him and slew the final one. Everything had gone
quiet in the southwestern portion of the castle, which was now littered with the
corpses of over a dozen goblins. The party breathed a collective sigh of relief
after that long battle. Nobby found a collection of coins among the corpses and
added significantly to his ear collection.
It’s a Trap!
The adventurers healed themselves and discussed the next
plan of action to explore the castle. There were many divisive opinions. Nobby
went and listened to the door immediately to the north of the entrance. They
expected that this was a second guard post, and he could indeed hear the chattering
of two goblins within. Barendil exerted his influence on the party to ignore
the guard post for now and instead move to investigate the central area of the
castle – they were aware of two doors that they thought would enable them to
enter from two directions at the same time, and he believed this to be the best
course of action.
Nobby dutifully followed Mr. Barendil towards the western
door, which sat directly opposite the main entrance. So intent were they on
listening at the door that they didn’t notice the tripwire laid across the
corridor, which triggered a fall of rubble and wooden beams from above when
they stepped into it. With an almost preternatural skill (derived from years of
avoiding blows from larger people), Nobby dove out the way and rolled back into
the main corridor. Barendil was not so quick and was knocked sprawling by a
broad timber. The rest of the party headed back to see what the noise was and
found the pair sitting on the floor, dusting themselves down.
Such a loud crash was sure to draw attention, and indeed the
guard post door opened up and two goblins poked their heads out to see what was
going on. Despite the red cloaks that the party were wearing, the guard goblins
couldn’t believe that a true Redbrand would set off the simple trap, so they
drew their bows and fired. One hit Guillerme while the other went wide. Barendil
and Nobby both attempted to save some face from their blundering, shooting at
the two goblins. Barendil managed to hit but Nobby still had masonry dust in
his eye. It was then down to Buck, who charged in shouting a blessing to Kord
and slicing the goblin in front of him from neck to navel, like a watermelon.
“Keep that last one alive!” yelled Kisandra.
Unlike Guillerme, she had managed to shout this before the
goblin was dead, and she ran in herself to use a Shocking Grasp in an attempt
to bring the goblin under submission rather than kill the creature. She managed
to daze the creature, but it was still standing. She was keen to avoid the
bloodlust of the banquet hall so that this goblin might be interrogated, but
she realised she had nothing to worry about when Guillerme ran over as he was
most likely going to provide a distraction for the creature rather than a
deadly threat. As his wildly swinging glaive clanged into the stone wall, she shook
her head at her accurate prediction. When Barendil ran over and failed to punch
the dazed goblin into unconsciousness, she reflected that maybe she should have
instructed her companions to ‘knock it out’ rather than simply ‘not kill it’.
Nobby grimly pulled a club out from behind his back and
started patting it into his other hand menacingly as he sidled up behind the
goblin and gave it a good crack on the noggin. The goblin’s legs folded beneath
it and it fell in a heap on the floor. He nodded to Kisandra and started to get
some rope out of his pack to tie the creature’s hands together.
Listening carefully, Barendil could hear a little bit of
muffled noise, like shuffling feet and quiet talking, to the north. Nothing
appeared to be headed their way, but the ranger suggested that the party remove
themselves from this corridor and return somewhere a bit safer. Nobby finished
tying up the unconscious goblin while Buck picked him up. The cleric suggested
they should take the remaining corpse with them too, but Nobby countered by
saying they should put his body among the wreckage to imply that he had
accidentally set off the trap himself – only Nobby was likely to suggest such a
sneaky plan, but the rest of the party thought it was a great idea. Barendil
busied himself burying the dead goblin beneath some bricks and wooden beams,
scattering dust and debris over the little green figure in a remarkably
artistic manner. With that complete, the adventurers returned to the banquet
hall with their captive goblin in tow.
Interrogation
Buck threw the little goblin roughly into a chair and Nobby tied
him down securely. Barendil kept watch to the east to ensure they weren’t
disturbed while Kisandra walked over to stand in front of the goblin, who was
groggily starting to wake. Nobby looked over at her expectantly.
“Doesn’t need his ears, does he?” asked the rogue hopefully.
She shook her head and waved him away – of course he needed
to hear the questions, fool of a human! Though she was fairly sure that Nobby
was winding her up.
Buck stood next to Kisandra and expressed his distaste for torture
– perhaps a distaste borne from the treatment of the Christmas Elf they had
captured many moons ago in the Winter Wonderland they were transported to from
White Willow Farm. He suggested using a spell, Zone of Truth, to ensure that
the goblin could not lie in answer to their questions; unfortunately, the
cleric felt that the goblin’s mind was too addled and the spell didn’t work on
it. Kisandra said not to worry, she could also use Detect Thoughts.
They threw a bucket of water on the goblin’s face to wake it
up and it spluttered to consciousness, asking what was going on.
“We’ll ask the questions here,” said Buck. “How many
creatures in this castle? What sort of forces are stationed here?”
“NO!” screeched the goblin, shaking its head. This was not going
to be an easy interview.
Buck reminded the goblin that they had killed many of its
companions, pointing out the corpses strewn on the flagstones around the
banquet hall. The creature’s lower lip quivered slightly. Kisandra took the
opportunity to concentrate on its mind, probing to discover that the goblin’s
name was Yeeslik and to determine his surface thoughts. Yeeslik was thinking:
·
He was scared of the adventurers
·
He was scared of King Grol
·
He wasn’t sure which he was more scared of right
now
·
He had been posted on guard post to the north,
to watch the main door
Kisandra probed deeper into the creature’s mind:
·
He doesn’t know much about the workings of the
castle – he is low in the pecking order
·
There are goblins, hobgoblins and bugbears
·
King Grol is a bugbear
·
King Grol is in the castle
It was clear to Kisandra that Yeeslik was unable to conceal
his true thoughts from her, so she could trust what she was detecting in his
mind. The sorceress therefore decided to probe even deeper:
·
Bugbear barracks is in the northwest
·
Hobgoblin barracks is in the east
·
Goblin barracks is in the southwest
·
The central area of the castle is where they go
to pray to Maglubiyet
·
King Grol resides in the northeast tower
·
The food being prepared in the banquet hall is for
everyone in the castle. Food gets taken to the bugbears and King Grol (they are
too important to get it themselves), and to the king’s pet. Hobgoblins and
goblins come to the hall to eat
Kisandra was intrigued by what this ‘pet’ might be, but her
control over the goblin’s mind was slipping and she could probe no deeper. Buck
could see her losing her composure, so he stepped in to try and intimidate some
more answers out of their captive.
“Listen here,” he said, as he pointed towards Nobby. “My friend
over there has a real sick problem. He’ll happily take your ears if you don’t
tell me what I want to know.”
“I tell you, I keep ears?” squeaked the goblin in terror.
“For now,” Buck replied with a menacing growl.
Nobby wasn’t happy at the prospect of missing out on a pair
of ears, but he knew that he couldn’t go back on Buck’s word.
“Yeeslik not know what pet is,” pleaded the goblin, “really
me don’t! King Grol keeps it in southeast tower. Naughty gobbos goes there, but
they don’t come back.”
When Nobby asked if Yeeslik had seen a dwarf in the castle,
he nodded that he had seen a captive dwarf brought in through the main entrance.
He didn’t know what had happened after that.
“Well, that’s all we can get out of him I think,” nodded
Kisandra.
“There’s two more things we could get out of him…” muttered
Nobby with a hint of bitterness.
The rogue sulked over in the corner of the room as the rest
of the party discussed a plan that was forming. They decided they could poison
the food and convince Yeeslik to deliver it to the bugbears and the king,
possibly dealing with the main threats in the castle without lifting a finger
themselves in battle. The little goblin was so terrified by Kisandra’s mind
probes, the scattered goblin corpses and Nobby’s gaze fixed on the side of his head
that he quickly agreed to do whatever they said to give him a chance to escape
the castle alive (and with his ears).
Nobby sauntered over to the large cauldron and pulled out
the three candy cane cyanide sticks that he had been saving since their Winter
Wonderland adventure. He broke them up and dropped them into the stew - as he did
so, a green cloud went PFFFFFFFT and formed a leering skull in the air before
quickly dissipating. He nodded in satisfaction; this was a sure sign of the potency
of the poison if ever there was one!
And so, they had the seed of a plan. Yeeslik seemed like he
should deliver the poisoned stew around the castle. They wondered about the
interpersonal relationships between the different species of goblinoid; Nobby
remembered that Droop had been treated like filth by the bugbears in Tresander
Manor. Perhaps there would be more enmity they could leverage if required?
Either way, they were fairly confident that they should be able to clear out
the rest of the castle without too much difficulty. In theory, anyway…
 |
Map of Cragmaw Castle at the end of Session 16,
showing the exploration so far |
