Lost Mine of Phandelver: Ep. 2a In Character Session One

I hope that this missive finds you, and that it finds you well. I know Scampy means well when he says he’ll make sure that my letters will get through to you, but I frankly and am not that trusting of the attention span of a squirrel, Celestial or not.

In any case, my travels further north have brought much for me to write about, and I finally mastered that Sleep spell that I was taught. I must say it is very effective and I am really glad that it actually worked this time… But well, I get ahead of myself.

Do you remember me saying in my last letter that Mountain Druid big-folk needed to get himself away from his domineering Mother? Well, it turns out that she had pretty much the same idea… He tracked mud across her new(ish) rug one last time and he was out on his ear! Of course, I happen to know it was really Faronar who tracked the mud in, but let’s keep that secret between ourselves and Scampy’s squirrel friends, eh?

Of course, he’s been saying that he’s going out to visit the other Druids but we both know that’s just a story. It’s hard to be taken seriously when you’ve got to tell people you’re out travelling because your Mum holds a grudge for a long time. Which reminds me, tell our Desmond that he can use the east well now if he wants. The last batch of sloe gin he sent me through was lovely and I forgive him.

Now, where was I? Ah yes, of course. It all got very confusing and somehow we ended up in Neverwinter and got asked by other big-folk to guard some caravan or other to some place or other. It’s so hard to track the details of what these kinds of people ask, to be honest. We joined up with some others – frankly, I’m glad that they wear different coloured clothes all the time otherwise I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart!

The shiny metal-skinned one was a half-elf fighter from Silverdale. He was in their army, you know. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that they’re a bit of a joke down in the South. He seemed so grim and serious. All “give me the loot, nowz”. The most adorable blue eyes though. I could see the light or Arvandor reflect in them; if he thought about cleaning up his face, and getting a tan, he’d be quite the thing.

The other big-folk was some kind of half-angel. Unfortunately, he looked like he got the worse half of that deal. He kept talking about all these books he’d read and what he’d learned from them and what not. Now, I’m not one to diminish book-learning, but I can tell you that at my age I’d rather know what’s what, rather than what some dim-witted fool wrote down and managed to convince someone else it was important because it was in a book! I can see it’s going to end in tears, mark my words.

So, anyway, we were taking some supplies – that mercenary was all over checking how much they were worth – to this village out in the country. Down the High Road, along the Triboar Trail. You know the route.

We happened upon an ambush by the local Goblins. They’d attacked our employers – did I mention they’d gone on ahead – and killed their horses. Well, that wouldn’t do at all, so I insisted that we go and rescue them You know how kind-hearted I am, and I couldn’t bear the thought of them being tortured by the goblins!

So we went into the cave. My goodness, it was fun! Gory, as well, but that’s what you expect when you embark on these kinds of things. We managed to kill most of the blighters, and found out they were being led by a Bugbear called Craag. His head says “hello” by the way! Scampy’s currently wearing it to scare the local children, he is such a trickster!

And what we found out about the local goings on would shame even Old Gwendolyn Goldsmith herself! For a start, they’d used poor old Cousin Golway’s handkerchief as nothing more than a jizz-rag, and some King Graal over at Cragmore Castle had taken one of our employers hostage. Apparently he had a map, and we all know that it ends badly for the one carrying a map.

After all those shenanigans, we took our other employer, some big folk called Sildar out to the town. My that place has hit on hard times. Apparently about 40 years ago, the leaders of the town – the Tresander family apparently – went missing or something. All sounds very bad taste, but there we have it.

From then on the town fell into poor stewardship; they even let their head chiefsman be elected… That’s where the most popular person wins and becomes in charge. I know, a real scandal! Imagine if that had been allowed to happen in our village? I would still have been Head Gnome at the Institute, I’m sure, but that harridan Ismelda would have used her lips of bile much more effectively.

But I digress… Actually, I don’t so much. The Druid I was with revealed a different character as he embarked on a whispering campaign against the priestess of Tymora, suggesting that she was a necromancer! I can only assume that the priesthood of Mielikki is a jealous one and She hates the other gods, because he spread this rumour very far and very wide… Even Harbin, the townsmaster, seemed to be taken in by it. I can only assume that they’re gathering together the peasants with pitchforks and burning brands to chase her right out of town as I write! I must make sure I go and see that!

Well, Aggy it’s been a pleasure keeping you updated, but today we need to go and see the Red Brands meeting with some bandits and then possibly set some things on fire. I’m sure that’s how it will all end in any case. Now, make sure that you keep the pigs fed, the pigeons plump and I would suggest sending the slaughtered chickens northward. They eat them by the bucketful here!

Lots of love,