Campaign Lost Mines of Phandelver (Chapter 1)

[T'anks]

"This is it," the thought passes through as she watches Klarg's flesh be torn and burnt by the assault from her companions. She musters all of the willpower possible in order to prevent herself from immediately running to his aid even now. It was always going to be brutal if she couldn't talk him down - if he couldn't return to her - but to actually see it is overbearing.

T'anks eyes Gooblin, taking his measure. She should subdue him, so they can focus on Klarg together.

...No. Klarg is too powerful, too dangerous. He must be dealt with first, here and now, before he regroups and continues his devastating assault. People are going to die, again, while she watches and does nothing. She casts her gaze upon Dude, holding back the torrent of emotions as best she can.

Dude... she whispers, beginning to hum a song from the past; calming, soothing and providing the clarity necessary to strengthen one's resolve. She hums as she moves ten feet south and faces Klarg, standing across the remains of their campfire.

Bardic Inspiration >> Tortle Dude

T'anks moves two squares south.

She grips her bows, nocks an arrow, and draws back the string as she slides into the familiar position. Her eyes harden, breathing slows.

Look at me, Klarg she says, without force. She waits for him to turn, stares into his eyes. For one heartbeat, two... and then lets go.

[Attack] with Shortbow >> Klarg

 

[VashTheStampede]

As T'anks locks eyes with Klarg, a tumultuous mix of emotions plays across both their faces. History, heartbreak, and the harsh reality of their current enmity converge in that single moment of eye contact. T'anks, with a heavy heart but unwavering resolve, releases the bowstring with practiced ease. The string sings as she releases the arrow, its flight swift and true.

The arrow pierces Klarg's already battered form, striking him in a vital spot. The force of the blow causes him to stagger, his massive frame teetering as he clutches at the arrow, a look of disbelief and betrayal flashing across his features. The mighty bugbear, who once dreamed of conquest and dominion, now stands on the precipice of death, brought low by the very person he once shared a bond with.

~~~~~

With the arrow lodged in his side, Klarg's eyes blaze with a fury that seems to burn brighter at the brink of his demise. His breaths come in ragged, heaving gasps, each one laced with pain and anger. Yet, there's an undeniable resilience in his stance, a testament to his unwillingness to accept defeat, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

"Near death?" Klarg growls, his voice a mixture of pain and defiance. "I am Klarg! I do not fall so easily!"

Using the last of his strength, Klarg attempts to rally, pushing through the pain that threatens to consume him. His gaze sweeps across those who stand against him, a challenge in his eyes. He grips his morningstar tighter, the knuckles white with exertion, readying himself for one final stand. In this moment, Klarg embodies the sheer determination and ferocity that made him a leader among the goblins, willing to fight to his last breath to protect what he believes is his by right.

His roar is a battle cry, an assertion of his refusal to be vanquished without exacting a toll on those who would see him fall.

~~~~~

Klarg's Turn

Fueled by a deep-seated rage and a sense of betrayal, Klarg's focus returns to T'anks and he grips his morningstar so tightly you can hear the leather and wood creak under pressure. He moves to step around the firepit...but he is distracted by the glint of a blade held up in his sightline, blocking his view of the Tiefling, and distracting him from the object of his rage.

The sword is held by Tortle Dude, who wields the glowing blade not only as a beacon, but as a challenge.

He now has Klarg's complete and total attention. Klarg now only has eyes and rage for the Tortle Bard, whom he sees not just as a symbol of his current predicament but also as the catalyst for T'anks's departure from his side. In Klarg's mind, twisted by anger and the pain of rejection, Tortle Dude represents the ultimate betrayal — not only the immediate threat to his rule but also the personal loss of someone he once considered an ally, perhaps even...more.

With his massive form seething with fury, Klarg raises his morningstar, the weapon that has instilled fear across the land. His eyes, burning with a mixture of pain and vengeance, are locked onto Tortle Dude. "You!" Klarg bellows, his voice echoing through the chamber. "You took everything from me — my dreams, my conquest, and T'anks! If I am to fall, you shall join me in oblivion!"

This declaration is more than a battle cry; it's a window into Klarg's soul, revealing the depth of his despair and rage. With every ounce of strength left in his battered body, Klarg charges at Tortle Dude, intent on delivering a blow that would not just harm the bard but serve as a symbol of Klarg's refusal to be forgotten, to be rendered inconsequential.

Klarg's charge culminates in a devastating blow. His morningstar, a weapon that has spelled doom for many, descends with all the force of his rage and despair towards Tortle Dude. The Bard, despite his resilience and the magical protections that have shielded him thus far, is unable to fully evade the ferocity of Klarg's attack.

The morningstar connects, and the impact sends Tortle Dude reeling. The force of the blow is overwhelming, knocking the Tortle bard to the ground with a thud that resonates through the chamber. For a moment, the battle seems to pause, the gravity of the situation sinking in for both the adventurers and Klarg.

Tortle Dude lies still, the severity of Klarg's strike leaving him incapacitated once more. Klarg, standing over Tortle Dude, breathes heavily, his chest heaving with exertion and the emotional toll of his actions. In striking down Tortle Dude, he has acted on his vow of vengeance, but the satisfaction he might have expected to feel is overshadowed by the grim reality of his situation. Surrounded by enemies and on the brink of defeat, Klarg's moment of triumph is fleeting, a pyrrhic victory in a battle that has cost him everything.

Tortle Dude takes 7 piercing damage

Tortle Dude is unconscious!

(( @shortkut ))

 

[Kutshort Yes]

KLARG!! My name is Kutshort Yes. You knocked out my tortle. Prepare to die

kutshort drops his crossbow and grabs his shortsword and scimitar. He runs across the ceiling and dives toward Klarg, attacking with both weapons

 

[Kutshort Yes]

((Bardic inspiration on damage please ))

 

[Kutshort Yes]

((Bardic inspiration on damage please ))

((Use this on whatever causes the most damage, which if cannot be damage, use on 11+5 to hit))

 

[VashTheStampede]

His eyes fixed on Klarg, Kutshort calculates the trajectory needed for his descent. Dropping his hand crossbow, he smoothly draws his shortsword and scimitar, their blades glinting in the dim light of the cave. With a swift push, he propels himself across the ceiling, moving with the grace of a predator closing in on its prey.

As he reaches the optimal point above Klarg, Kutshort lets gravity take over, releasing his hold on the ceiling to drop directly toward the bugbear leader. Klarg, already reeling from the barrage of attacks and focused on his vendetta against the Dude, barely has time to register the new threat plummeting toward him.

With a battle cry muffled by the rush of air, Kutshort descends upon Klarg like an avenging spirit. He strikes with both blades in a perfectly timed assault, catching Klarg off-guard. The two blades slice through the air, leaving trails of deadly intent. The impact sends a shockwave of pain through Klarg, who staggers under the unexpected onslaught.

But the Rogue isn't finished yet. As he lands with a roll to dissipate the force of his fall, he spots Tortle Dude's Moon-Touched Longsword lying nearby. His shortsword and scimitar fall to the rocky floor. In a fluid motion fueled by adrenaline and the fierce determination to protect his allies, Kutshort scoops up the weapon. With all the strength he can muster, he charges at Klarg, who is now struggling to defend himself, weakened and surprised by the relentless attack.

With a final, decisive move, Kutshort drives Tortle Dude's sword through Klarg, the blade finding its mark with a precision borne of desperation and the will to survive. Klarg's eyes widen in shock and pain as the realization of his defeat sets in. With a last, ragged breath, he collapses, the life fading from his eyes.

The cave falls silent, save for the heavy breathing of the combatants, as Klarg's massive form hits the ground with a thud that seems to echo the end of an era. Kutshort stands over him, his dear friend's family sword in hand, a mix of relief and sorrow in his eyes.

Goblin Turn

oh he fuckin BAILS

End of Combat Encounter

 

[Kutshort Yes]

Dude, this is no time for napping. Get up!

Kutshort cleans Dide’s sword and returns it to him.

Kutshort then picks up his weapons (crossbow, short sword, and scimitar) and Klarg’s weapons (morning star and javelins) ((we can see who would wield them best and share amongst the team later, just don’t want to leave them in the cave))

Kutshort also FINALLY checks out those boxes in the south and Klarg’s bed area to the east for loot

 

[T'anks]

Goblin Turn

oh he fuckin BAILS

End of Combat Encounter

{{ Objection!! I'll do rolls if you want, buuut... }}


T'anks fires her bow at the fleeing Goblin, then immediately gives chase. Her motivations are murky; delaying having to look at Klarg, preventing the tainted Gooblin from infecting others, simply having an outlet for her overwhelming despair and frustration. As she catches up with him, it ultimately doesn't matter. She rams him as he arrives at the chimney, followed by a series of swift slashes with her dagger that stops the panicked enemy cold - and makes him wish he was the first to die in combat this day. She takes hold of his form and throws him down the chute, then deftly makes her way down after him.

She sets upon him again in the corner of the room; the bestial creature assaulting him, tearing his flesh to ribbons with fang and claw, is a far cry from the Tiefling girl he knew previously. The remaining wolves know better than to interfere in her hunt, and even after Gooblin is nothing more than a corpse T'anks continues to unleash her suffering upon him.

Minutes later she returns to the chamber with the others, covered in the blood and tissue of the felled enemy. Her eyes, endless black voids, scan the room... to the job well done and the recovery efforts. She silently walks to Klarg's remains and sits, taking one of his giant hands into her own and softly, quietly cries.

The aura around her suggests she will not move or speak for quite some time.


Before the party moves out, T'anks will check Klarg's body for clues about Ruxithid and Cragmaw Castle.

 

[VashTheStampede]

Kutshort also FINALLY checks out those boxes in the south

As Kutshort navigates the chamber, his keen eyes quickly identify several sacks and crates tucked away in a corner. Upon closer inspection, he notices that each bears the distinct symbol of the Lionshield Coster—a prominent merchant company known for its trading posts and warehouses scattered across the region, including one in Phandalin. The emblem, a blue shield with a golden lion's head, is unmistakable, signifying that these goods were indeed ill-gotten, likely taken from caravans or storerooms belonging to the Coster.

and Klarg’s bed area to the east for loot

Amidst the rough furs and makeshift bedding, he discovers a chest. Unlike the crates and sacks filled with the plunder of the Lionshield Coster, this chest bears marks of personal significance, possibly containing items of value or importance to Klarg. Its sturdy construction and the lock securing it suggest that whatever lies within was meant to be kept safe from prying eyes.

Before the party moves out, T'anks will check Klarg's body for clues about Ruxithid and Cragmaw Castle.

As Raine sifts through Klarg's belongings, her fingers find a crudely fashioned pocket sewn into the lining of his armor. Inside, she discovers a small, tattered piece of parchment. The parchment is worn and folded multiple times, indicating that it has been referenced frequently. Carefully unfolding it, Raine reveals a rough sketch that appears to be a map of sorts. Though the map is not detailed, it marks several key locations with crude symbols, including what Raine surmises could be Cragmaw Castle, identified by a symbol resembling a tower with a goblin's head. Unfortunately, as crude as the map is, it isn't very clear just where the Castle is supposed to be, just that it is somewhere in the Neverwinter Wood.

 

[Kutshort Yes]

Kutshort attempts to pick the lock

 

[VashTheStampede]

Kutshort attempts to pick the lock

Discussion - Tavern: Sleeping Giant

gwforums.com

(( Please read that post before proceeding. The range to pick this lock is 14-20 ))

 

[Kutshort Yes]

Discussion - Tavern: Sleeping Giant

gwforums.com

(( Please read that post before proceeding. The range to pick this lock is 14-20 )

Kutshort takes out his thieves tools

 

[Kutshort Yes]

I think I need to roll to get in that range without going over

 

[VashTheStampede]

Kutshort, with his keen skills and steady hands, makes quick work of the lock on Klarg's chest. The lock clicks open, revealing the treasures that Klarg had hoarded within. As the lid swings open, the dim light of the cave catches on the copper and silver within, casting a small glow on the face of the Rogue...

Inside the chest, he finds a substantial stash of coin: 1,700 copper pieces and 150 silver pieces, a testament to the goblins' raids and thievery in the region. Such a sum, while not a fortune, represents a significant resource for the party, offering them the means to resupply and prepare for the challenges ahead.

More importantly, nestled among the coins are two small vials, their liquid contents glowing faintly with the promise of healing. These Potions of Healing are invaluable to the adventurers, providing them with a much-needed way to mend wounds and recover from the battles to come.

 

[Kutshort Yes]

Kutshort slips the entire contents of the chest into his backpack

Kutshort turns his attention back to the crates and takes out his crowbar

Kutshort delicately opens the crates one by one, taking care to avoid damaging any of their contents

 

[VashTheStampede]

Kutshort, curious about the contents of the crates stamped with the emblem of the Lionshield Coster, decides to inspect them further. With a bit of effort, he pries open the crates to reveal what's inside. The crates are filled with a variety of goods that have likely been pilfered from caravans and merchants traveling the roads near Phandalin.

The crates contain an assortment of textiles—bolts of cloth in various colors and patterns, likely intended for sale or trade in the markets of Phandalin and beyond. Among the textiles are sturdy linens and soft wools, some dyed in vibrant hues that catch the eye. These could fetch a decent price in town or could be used to replace worn gear and clothing.

Alongside the textiles, there are crates filled with produce—dried fruits, nuts, jerky, and various leafy greens. While not incredibly valuable, these food supplies are a welcome find for the party. The road ahead may be long and perilous, and having additional provisions means they can travel further without the immediate need to forage or hunt, conserving their energy for the challenges that lie ahead.

However, there remains another option. The task of returning the stolen goods would not only be a gesture of goodwill but also a tangible representation of the adventurers' commitment to restoring peace and order to the region affected by the goblins' raids.

 

[VashTheStampede]

As the party secures the chamber, ensuring no immediate threats remain, Sildar kneels beside the fallen Tortle.

He quickly assesses Tortle Dude's injuries, noting the severity of the wounds inflicted by Klarg's morningstar. With calm efficiency, Sildar rummages through his kit for bandages and a small vial of antiseptic, which he had managed to keep secure despite his own ordeal at the hands of the goblins.

With the precision of someone who has seen too many battles, Sildar cleans Tortle Dude's wounds, applying pressure to stop the bleeding and wrapping them tightly with bandages. He speaks reassuring words to the unconscious Tortle, promising that the worst has passed and that rest will now be his best ally.

After several tense moments, Sildar leans back on his heels, letting out a sigh of relief as he successfully stabilizes Tortle Dude. The immediate danger to Tortle Dude's life has passed, but he will need time and care to recover fully from his injuries.

 

[Kutshort Yes]

However, there remains another option. The task of returning the stolen goods would not only be a gesture of goodwill but also a tangible representation of the adventurers' commitment to restoring peace and order to the region affected by the goblins' raids.

((I suspect this is the way to go))

Kutshort takes some of the lettuce from the crate and bring it over to Dude

 

[Kutshort Yes]

Kutshort takes out his hammer and reseals the crates

It doesn’t seem like anything in this crates is entirely useful. I don’t want to leave it with the goblins. Let’s take a short rest, refuel, and figure out how to get these crates out of here and back to their rightful owner

 

[Kutshort Yes]

 

[TD]

Dude's eyes open slightly, he doesn't have much strength but he's able to look around the chamber and observe what's happening. He does not yet have the energy to stand, he sits upright. He cannot speak. He is still battered and bruised, blood trickling from his mouth. He took a beating from Klarg, but it appears that Dude has succeeded at his primary objective - he kept his promise and like Grandtorty, protected the group when the situation called for it.

He notices his Grandtorty's sword next to him, strangely clean as if it had been used in the battle and someone took the liberty to clean it. He can't help but wonder if any of the others examined the sword closely, but he will not press the issue for now is not the time to discuss that.

He admires the bandaging and care that has been applied to him. This does not seem to be the work of any of the adventurers - so by process of elimination, he determines Sildar has taken care of his wounds. Sildar stood next to him as he drew Klarg's ire - even when he drew his rage as Klarg went for T'anks. He owes him a drink.

He observes Kutshort kneeling near him, who miraculously seems to have procured some lettuce. However, Dude seems hesitent to consume the lettuce. For he does not have the energy to discern the origins of this lettuce, he accepts the gift from his long term friend but simply holds it in his hand. He gives his friend a subtle nod.

His eyes move to Dragmire, standing by the fire - he sure hopes someone will grant his wish... and send him down the chimney.

Then Dude's eyes shift to T'anks. He observes her - and her body language, he can tell... she's mourning. She's holding Klarg's hand. Dude wants to understand why, he knows better than most what she feels like... but the whispers in his head start to louden the longer he observes T'anks hovering over Klarg. For Dude understands why she is acting this way, but he has difficulty accepting it, especially as the whispers in his head get louder "GOBLIN LOVER... GOBLIN LOVER... GOBLIN LOVER..."...

Dude clutches the lettuce tightly. He leans backwards, lying on his back. Trying to forget the sight that he just saw. He shuts his eyes, trying to imagine something else, anything but what he's thinking right now.

...but the whispers persist.

 

[Dragmire]

So.......... Sildar, how it's going?

 

[Kutshort Yes]

Kutshort takes some jerky from the crate

Hopper! Here boy

Kutshort feeds Hopper, then takes a little nibble himself

 

[VashTheStampede]

So.......... Sildar, how it's going?

Despite the grueling ordeal he's been through, Sildar manages a weary but genuine smile, acknowledging Dragmire's question with a nod of appreciation.

"I owe you my life," Sildar says, his voice tinged with gratitude. "Being captured by the goblins... I wasn't sure I'd make it out alive. But thanks to you and the rest of the party, I'm here. I'm still weak, but I'll recover. We've faced much together in a short time, and your actions have spoken loudly of your character."

He pauses, looking around at the members of the party who have gathered, their faces reflecting a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction from the battle's outcome. "This adventure has taken quite a turn, and I find myself in your debt. The road to Phandalin will still be dangerous, but I feel more hopeful knowing I'm in the company of such capable individuals. I was so focused on the task awaiting me in Phandalin that I let my guard down. I never expected to be waylaid before even reaching town. Maybe I'm finally getting too old for this life."

 

[Kutshort Yes]

Kutshort takes out his hammer and reseals the crates

It doesn’t seem like anything in this crates is entirely useful. I don’t want to leave it with the goblins. Let’s take a short rest, refuel, and figure out how to get these crates out of here and back to their rightful owner

Hey Sildar, any thoughts on how we can get these crates out of here? Someone will be glad to have their product returned to them

 

[VashTheStampede]

Hey Sildar, any thoughts on how we can get these crates out of here? Someone will be glad to have their product returned to them

"I don't suppose you have a wagon waiting outside?"

 

[Kutshort Yes]

"I don't suppose you have a wagon waiting outside?"

I’m afraid we don’t, we sent the last member of our party to Phandalin to finish the task we were initially hired for

 

[VashTheStampede]

I’m afraid we don’t, we sent the last member of our party to Phandalin to finish the task we were initially hired for

Sildar chuckles: "Then I suppose our backs may be quite sore upon our arrival to town."

 

[Kutshort Yes]

Kutshort looks around for supplies to make a travois

 

[VashTheStampede]

As Kutshort rummages through Klarg's chamber, his eyes land on the makeshift bed where the goblin's leader had been resting. The bed, a haphazard assembly of wooden planks, furs, and thick, woven fabrics, strikes him as the perfect source of materials for the travois he plans to build. The realization hits him like a spark of inspiration: the wooden planks could serve as the sturdy frame he needs, while the furs and fabrics could be repurposed for binding and creating a soft base to protect the supplies during transport.

(( A Survival check to build the travois feels appropriate, speaking as a former Boy Scout ))

 

[Kutshort Yes]

(( Shortkut grumbles as he is forced to roll again ))

 

[Kutshort Yes]

((Maybe use the 82 roll ))

 

[Kutshort Yes]

hey guys, I may need some help building this

 

[TD]

Dude's eyes open - hearing that somebody needs help. This is what he does, help. However - he's still recovering but perhaps he has the knowledge to provide the group with the "know how".

Dude glances over at the pile of supplies next to Kutshort to see if he can discern how this could be built.

 

[TD]

Dude channels the whispers that T'anks used to inspire him earlier as he looks even closer.

 

[Dragmire]

Dragmire hears Kutshort and takes a look at what he's doing. Noticing him fumbling around a bit with the materials, he walks over and looks over what we have to work with.

You know, when I was a Warlock Scout and we were learning how to survive in the woods, we had to learn some knots and other things to be able to build some contraptions.

Dragmire sees what Kutshort and Tortle Dude were going for and he tries to assist.

 

[Dragmire]

Dragmire feels a wave of inspiration while working

 

[VashTheStampede]

(( I think you might be able to cobble something together from the sheer number of die rolls. Just an overwhelming amount of rolls. 100 monkeys with 100 bugbear beds could build an a-frame I think ))

 

[Dragmire]

{{You WILL become a travois.}}

 

[Kutshort Yes]

(( I think you might be able to cobble something together from the sheer number of die rolls. Just an overwhelming amount of rolls. 100 monkeys with 100 bugbear beds could build an a-frame I think ))

((Maybe Sildar and Hopper can make some survivor rolls too))

 

[TD]

((Kutshort: Forget the one crying over the dead bugbear amirite?))

 

[VashTheStampede]

(( We ready to leave this cave? I know you're probably attached to it at this point... ))

 

[Kutshort Yes]

(( We ready to leave this cave? I know you're probably attached to it at this point... ))

((Not until we figure out how to make this damned travois))

 

[Kutshort Yes]

Kutshort mutters to himself… “you know how to build this. Get it together. You’re smarter than this. How many adventurers does it take to build a damned travois?”

 

[Kutshort Yes]

((Apparently more adventurers than we have))

 

[TD]

((Is Dude rested enough to move?))

 

[TD]

Dude hears his Grandtorty's voice in his head... "Get up... it's time to build"...

Drawing inspiration from the internalized voice of his Grandtorty grants him enough strength to get up. Dude tucks the unidentified lettuce from Kutshort into his backpack.

Dude walks over to Kutshort, looking at the pieces more closely and tries to start building.

 

[Dragmire]

Dragmire looks at the mess that's been made of this former-bed.

Holy shit.

 

[Kutshort Yes]

 

[TD]

Dude looks down at the mangled mess that he has created. This cannot be right. It's time.

Dude pulls out the piece of lettuce, holding it in his hand. He channels the energy of his Grandtorty to determine the history behind this piece of lettuce.