Barthen turns to the rest of the group. "And how about the rest of you? Surely you have some basic supplies you'll be needing to replenish. What can I get for you?" He gestures toward the rows of shelves filling the room. "As you can see, I'm fully stocked with whatever you may need for the road."

"Do you happen to have any blank ledger books available?"

"Of course," Barthen replies with a smile. "I always keep several ledger books on hand, since a lot of miners come through here needing to keep records of their claims and prospects. Fine, leather-bound journal books hand-made in Neverwinter. One hundred pages each, only ten gold pieces."

As he speaks, Barthen turns around and bends over to examine the lower shelves of the cabinet behind the counter. After rummaging for a moment, he turns back holding a small, neat leather-bound book, which he places on the counter in front of Steamknuckle.

Steamknuckle briefly examines the book, then responds, "I'll take it." He counts out ten gold coins from his purse and lays them on the counter, then collects the book and stows it neatly in his backpack.

Barthen picks up the gold from the counter. "Many thanks, my friend."

He looks over the rest of the party. "Anything else for my new friends? Provisions, clothing, tools, anything?"

"I'm good. Ol' Mudskipper here must have left his lunch pail at home on this trip, since I've still got a good week's rations left. That should be plenty to get me wherever I go next.

"I say next thing, we head on over to that inn to avail ourselves of a frosty mug of ale. Been too damn long since I had a proper drink."

"Agreed," Sildar says. "Unless there's anything else any of you would like to buy while we're here..." He scans the party and, seeing no objections, continues. "I for one could use a hot meal and a drink. Let's check in to the inn and stow our belongings there, then get something to eat. After that we head over to the town hall to have a word with this Wester fellow about organizing a rescue effort."

"Lionshield," Stumpy interjects with a growl. "The crates, in my wagon. Can't hold on to them forever."

"Of course. I'd forgotten." Sildar smiles warmly at Stumpy. "It was honorable of you to make room in your wagon to return those goods. We should see to their safe return as soon as possible.

"But in light of the danger Gundren is in, I think the town master should be notified first. I'll ask that you wait until after I've met with Wester to return the Lionshield supplies. I'd like to broker that exchange myself, if you don't mind, so I can have words with the proprietor of their trading post here in town."

Stumpy snorts. "Suit yourself."

Sildar turns back to Barthen. "Thank you so much for all your help, my friend. Can you please direct us to the inn here in town, as well as to the town hall, and then wherever the Lionshields have set themselves up?"

"Of course," Barthen replies. "The Stonehill Inn is just down the street here on the the left, three doors down. It's one of the biggest buildings in town, you can't miss it, just before the town square opens up.

"The Lionshield Coster is directly across the square from the inn, on your right as you pass down the Miners' Trail out the south end of town.

"Then, the town hall is right across the street from the Lionshield Coster. On your left as you leave the square heading south. You can't miss it, with the bell tower in the back."

The party offers Barthen a final word of thanks, then heads outside the shop to the wagon. As they roll down the street toward the inn, they pass by Zhaquadan on his casual stroll through town.

"You are an odd one," Willow remarks as she pulls up alongside the dwarf on her mount. "Just couldn't wait to get out of that shop, could you? Who knows what kind of critical information you might have missed after you walked out of there..." She smiles.

"We're heading to the inn right now. Care to join us?"

"I guess, but I really think we should talk with the leadership of this place as soon as possible" Zhaquadan says as he falls in with the party.

"Do not worry, my friend," Sildar says. "It is still early, so the town master is likely still waking up. We will just get rooms at the inn and some breakfast, speak with the innkeeper for a moment perhaps, and then we will be on our way to have words with Wester."

Together the party moves down the main dirt road toward the center of town. On their right they pass a modest smithy, its proprietor busy at work hammering horseshoes in the crisp morning air of his open workshop. He looks up at them briefly before returning to his work with a grunt.

Soon the travelers approach the town square, a wide dirt clearing surrounded on three sides by the larger log buildings of the town. On their left, at the northeast corner of the square, they pass a large, newly built roadhouse of fieldstone and rough-hewn timbers. More large buildings span the square along its east and south sides. To the right stands what looks like a humble shrine built from the ancient stones of old Phandalin, and beyond that a wide green field stretches out from the west edge of the square.

The path enters the square and then curves off to the left in front of the roadhouse to form the main east-west street of the town. Peering down the street, the group sees in the distance a series of dirt switchbacks marking the climb up to the old manor house at the east end of town.

Eventually their eyes settle on the front door of the roadhouse before them. A small wooden sign hangs beside the door, reading "Stonehill Inn". Beyond that, a wide grass alley opens to the right of the building, with tracks indicating a resting place for vehicles and beasts of burden.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:08, Fri 12 Aug 2016.

"I'll just park the wagon out back and tend to the oxen for a minute," Stumpy says. "You guys head on in and I'll be right behind you."

"Yes, I'll need to find a place for Burgess as well. Please get me a private room if one is available, and a plate of whatever hot food they happen to be serving. I'll be in in a moment to cover my bill."

"Just keep an eye on that chest," Rudo grumbles. "As soon as we've got our room keys then first thing we need to do is drag that thing up where it's safe, and divvy up that treasure."

Rudo frowns defensively at the weary looks of his comrades. "What? You heard Barthen, who knows what kind of thieves and scoundrels might be sneaking around this inn. I for one don't plan to wait until it goes missing to lay hands on what I've rightfully earned. A fair share of that treasure is mine, so don't go giving me dirty looks just because I'm ready to collect."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:55, Tue 18 Oct 2016.

"Of course," Steamknuckle says quickly before Willow has a chance to object. "Might as well settle everything up while we have a moment to relax. It won't take but a few minutes. Then we can have our breakfast and be on our way to the town hall." He flashes a conciliatory smile.

Willow frowns at Rudo, but says nothing. After a moment she turns Burgess and trots off down the alley beside the inn.

The party collects their belongings from the wagon and gathers at the front door of the inn. Stumpy snaps the reins and drives the oxen forward, disappearing around the corner of the building into the alley.

Sildar takes a moment to gather himself, then pushes the door open and walks in. The party follows.

A spacious, dimly lit common room opens up before them. A handful of early-drinking locals sit at the bar off to the left, nursing mugs of ale or cider. They turn and eye the group with curiosity as they enter. The room is otherwise empty, with a dozen or more open tables and chairs scattered about and the embers of a cozy fire dwindling in a great hearth against the left wall. A narrow staircase leads up the far wall to the upper floor, and presumably the inn's private rooms.

As the party enters, a short young man comes around from behind the bar to welcome the newcomers. He smiles broadly as he walks up.

"Well met, my friends. Welcome to Phandalin! We don't get many visitors here. I'm Toblen Stonehill, the innkeeper. Would you like rooms?"

"Indeed," Sildar replies. "How many rooms do you have available?"