The Restoration of Phandalin

Mundane Monster

The most uninspiring of monsters
Original poster
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Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per day
  2. One post per day
  3. 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
  1. Beginner
  2. Elementary
  3. Intermediate
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Transgender
Genres
Fantasy, Modern Fantasy, Animal based, Scifi, Modern, Horror, Comedy, Slice of life.
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Interest Check | OOC (Discord) | IC (Here!)
Meet the Party

@Applo (Gudren) | @Elle Joyner (Ox) | @Falcon (Markael) | @Fyrra (Ishte) | @KatSea (Solomon) | @Raven (Saria) | @SilverPaw (Vanvyre)
Once a quaint miners town boasting a population of 400 people, now a town in shambles with a measly ten people remaining. Phandalin has been raided twice, once by orcs and again by the Redbrand gang. Adventurers took care of each group of invaders but left the town in a hideous state of disrepair. Most of the original inhabitants of Phandalin have since left and have refused to come back.

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Lady Roegalias Bilthine, Duke Romularos Bilthine's illegitimate daughter has been gifted the town by her father. In order to be recognized by her father and other nobles, she must restore the town to its former glory. Of course, a town littered with decaying bodies is no place for a lady of her stature, so she's hired you all to fix the town for her. She's sent her right-hand woman and butler, Krisynore to oversee the changes and offer counsel to the party.

The seven of you are crowded onto the back of an uncovered wagon. Sunlight bears down on your heads with unwavering dedication. The distinct smell of hay and manure tickles your noses. Clearly, this cart had been used to transport livestock in the past. Krisynore, is sitting up front beside the driver with her nose in a book. The scenery doesn't change as you travel down Miner's Trail, the narrow road leading into Phandalin. Vast farmer's fields rest on either side of the road and the occasional wayward cow raises its head and bellows at you. In the distance, you can see what was probably two houses years ago, but now they're more like lean-tos missing walls and vital foundations. Krisynore stops reading and looks back at you all.

"You won't have to do much with those. Lady Bilthine wishes for all irreparable buildings to be torn down."

Finally, the cart slowed to a stop in the middle of the town. The driver waited for everyone to dismount before driving away, his horses kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake. There was no one to be seen but there was a large building with a crooked sign reading "Sto eh ll Inn" hanging over an open door. Krisynore considered the building for a moment, then shrugged and strode toward the entrance. Suddenly with a loud CRACK, the sign which had been hanging precariously by one nail wrenched itself from its only anchoring and began to fall, directly above the oblivious elf.


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As the dust from the retreating cart slowly settled, devilishly red eyes scanned the motley crew it had left behind and their surrounding. Gudren sighed. She had heard rumors that a dragon had its lair somewhere in the sword coast. A dragon! And yet, she had chosen to come to some ruin of a nowhere town. Granted, this was a job where she would get paid and her coin purse was uncomfortable empty but coin wasn’t why she had left home. Surely, nothing achieved in this dump would get her any closer to her goal.

For just a moment, Gudren was tempted to turn around, chase down the wagon and seek her destiny elsewhere. She didn’t. An agreement had been reached, and it would not be broken by her. Instead, a small book filled with strange sketches was tucked into her satchel before she began to dust herself off, sparks crackling from the fingers of the genasi’s gloves as they swept over the overlapping metal scales of her armour.

Possibly it was the eyes of her ancestors looking down on her that made Gudren aware of the disintegrating sign before any of her travelling companions. Maybe a lifetime of tinkering and building meant that she recognised at an unconscious level the quiet scream of breaking wood and failing iron. Perhaps it was both. Regardless, the barest of glances was all it took for Gudren to realize her employer's servant’s head was about to be filled with something far weightier than the contents of their book. Base instinct took over.

In the blink of an eye, the red eyed woman became a raging avatar of fire, and then just a quickly the inferno shrunk away. The flames coalesced in the palm of Gudren’s outstretched right hand before streaking through the air towards the plummeting detritus.

The impact was sweet. Flames exploded around the rotten wood, knocking it off its course for the elf girl’s head. It still hit them, but it struck only their shoulder. They would live. If they were smart, they might even learn from it.

Gudren let the ancient magic fade away and started picking her way through the strange crowd to the fallen, crying girl.

“You need to pay attention! Ja?”​

 
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Soon after the wagon stopped and everyone began to step off, Saria climbed down once it came to her turn. Her right elf ear twitched, listening to what was around as her Emerald eyes scanned the area. Taking in the sight of the rather run downtown. She gave a small cough before the dust had settled after the cart left her and the others. Saria, after taking in the town, glanced over at the party she had traveled with. A mixed band of race and gender similar to her life on the sea, except for the fact there were other females around.

Interesting, what path her friend Alexander had set her on. Now the coin was gone, which led her to find work to continue traveling around the lands. Taking on the new life, Saria chose to try her hand and perhaps more honest work, or well at least that might allow her to double the income perhaps. After, finally, taking in the appearances of those around her. Saria, finally, spotted a sign "Sto eh ll Inn". After managing to read the Inn part of the sign, she began to make her way. Pausing at the quick glimmer of flame, slightly confused. Seeing the sign now appearing to be headed towards the elf. Saria caught the comment from one of the companions who were with her on the wagon.

"Aye, I would say so, lass." Saria simply commented to make her presence known to the two.
 
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A some what tall male figure stood at the back of the cart, making sure the others were able to disembark before him. The hood of his deep blue, winter wool coat was pulled up over his head shadowing his face, though the ends of his longer chocolate brown hair fell visibly over his collarbone, and there was a slight ching sound indicating he had chainmail under it.. Fur-lined pauldrons were strapped down over his shoulders. The coat was belted over light tan pants tucked into similarly fur lined boots.

The whole outfit was a bit out-of-place considering the current weather, but the man seemed unfazed despite that fact that the sun was high overhead and they were in summer. Of course if he was wearing chainmail, the coat might be keeping the metal from becoming to hot in the sun's light.

He too noticed the sign but by the time he could even bring a hand up in reaction one of his newfound companions had taken care of the issue. It was an impressive display of fire. At least it was to a man who had spent very little time among people and done little with flame beyond the use of a campfire at night to cook and keep warm by. He'd never seen anyone do that before.

But rather than look toward the fire woman, or their crying host, or even the other elf woman who had moved to help, his eyes travels upwards toward where the sign had hung.

It was an old thing, looking like it had been held by a single nail which had finally given way at just the wrong moment. But it was clearly old damage not new. That meant...

"We should be careful entering here." His deep voice stated bluntly. "The disrepair might extend to more than the sign. I'd hate for anyone to get hurt further."
 
OX

Hopping down off the cart with all the grace and authority of her namesake, the woman called Ox trudged towards the building ahead of them. The journey thus far had been decidedly cramped and with a stretch the fetters of her brief confinement were shunted with cracks and pops along her shoulders and spine. Some bit of drama had distracted the more meager members of the group, and she bit back a bemused scoff as she imagined how utterly ridiculous it must be to fear injury from falling signage. Small, puny people had the most unfortunate problems.

Had she been closer to the front of the cart, she could undoubtedly have helped, shattering the precarious sign into oblivion with a mighty blow, but alas, one of the feeble and less qualified travelers had leapt, perhaps prematurely, into action.

"Someone should see that she hasn't been wounded." Ox noted, pointing with absence towards the queen's underling, "Tiny, frail thing."

Shaking her head with a mingled gesture of pity and credence, she continued forward to the building as another of their party mentioned the potential dangers within the structure, "I will scout inside. Should it prove dangerous, I can manage. Should it come toppling down around me, do not attempt to aid and further endanger yourselves. Your flimsy, paltry bodies will no doubt be crushed hopelessly into fine powder."

Without waiting for a response, certain there could be no argument otherwise, she headed towards the inn, pulling a handaxe free as she approached the door.
 
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Keep me safe in these new and strange lands, light of my life. Guide me and the people I find to your glory and peace. May I find my voice again in a service that is worthy. And may I not mess up too badly in this new suit of armor. It is a good thing, though, how heavy it weighs on my shoulders, I am regaining muscle I never thought I'd see again. Now if I could just not make so much noise- A bump and skid in the road caused Solomon to jolt in his seat. His thoughts came to a violent halt. They were here. Swallowing, the young paladin shifted in his heavy armor. He wanted to remove his chest plates and remove the rattling that came with each breath. He must have looked more like a hall decoration than a warrior- Not that he wanted to look imposing. He would have much preferred the vibrant blues and creamy whites that came with robes- but still, knowing this town could have been riddled with bandits or falling apart at the seams? Well...Solomon didn't want to be crushed. Again he tagged on mentally.

He lumbered out of the cart, allowing for his new found party members to tumble out ahead of him. Courtesy, he supposed. Not to mention you'd probably get stuck in the door frame if you rushed along with everyone else. That could be pretty funny. He quietly followed behind his party, eyes darting to the vaguely familiar cloaked figure, to the woman with elven ears, the reddish tiefling, a...small woman with enough muscle that she could easily crush everyone here. He bit back a laugh at the thought.

His eyes locked with their tour guide, eyes lazily trailing up to see the sign that hung haphazardly over her. He opened his mouth to bark out a warning at her, surprised to note no noise escaped him. Oh, right- Sh- He wanted to step forward, barrel forward, grab her and tug her out of harm's way. Before he could shift himself forward, weight of the armor pressing down harshly on his torso-

I guess that works. His shoulders slumped. Ow.

The blast of magic curved in a beautiful arc, slamming into the sign and knocking it behind the woman. Only to strike her still. Not as horrid as it could been. Solomon recalled how horrid cracked skulls and broken books looked both before and in his time in the clergy. He winced. Luckily from first inspection of the crying woman, it did not seem her shoulder had been dislocated or damaged. She seemed startled, though, giant tears pooling in her eyes. His heart hammered. Tentatively, he made his way towards the woman, raising his hand in peace as he gave her a warm and gentle smile. Placing his hand on his hip, he slid a pouch from the safety of his belt. His slim fingers fumbled with the twine securing it, unraveling the pouch before a bright glow from the pool illuminated his hand. It was still a small supply of holy power, not having yet securing his oath- He would. Soon enough. It was just...a trial period. He hovered his fingers over her shoulder, the light shimmering and seeping into the bruised area that painted her skin. He squinted before giving his nod of approval, smiling at her still.

I hope that is enough for you, dear.

His head raised. Right. Repairs. He raised his brow at the dwarf's proclamation. I should go after her so she doesn't get the whole tavern to concave on her, shouldn't I? His eyes travelled to the cloaked man. His shoulders raised in a shrug. He curled his fingers in a wave, breaking the dwarf's request and clambering in behind her.
 
The cart was crowded, crowded, and kind of smelly, and the ride uncomfortable, but at least Vanvyre was off to do something new somewhere else. She’d grown tired of the meagre and tasking profession of an alchemist – it had seemed much more appealing when she’d only been a student. It had been engaging to fiddle with the unknown, but as a professional, she’d been weighed down by the drudgery of its routine. Hopefully this first job as an adventurer would give her the spark of novelty she desired.

As she eyed and marveled at her travelling companions, she thought that it just might, and was glad of her decision. Such a variety of races! Where she’d come from being the only half-elf among the humans, she was considered an oddity. Here, she was just another adventurer. Unfortunately, the thought of blending into the background wasn’t particularly appealing…though it could have its benefits. Van supposed she’d see how she’d play it as things progressed.

Still, she couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of the vast, monotonous fields and the small nearing town. This place was actually worse than her hometown. She did smirk at the permission to destroy the dilapidates building – that could be fun. Unfortunately, something left for later.

Vanvyre slowly stood, stretched and disembarked the vehicle when they finally stopped in the middle of Phandalin. She blinked at a cracking noise, and by the time she turned her head in Krisynore’s direction, the falling sign had already been set ablaze. At least it had hit her shoulder rather than her head, or they’d be facing with a concussed, possibly dead elf.

Crisis averted? She wondered if that truly was the case, since the girl was sobbing while her savior, the fire genasi, was scolding her. Surly much? Her eyes wandered to the amusing muscle-headed dwarf next. Her arrogant declarations and patronizing words oddly enough weren’t offensive, but genuinely funny, and drew a small grin from Van. I think I like that one.

Finally, she leisurely headed towards Krisynore, who was already being healed. When the human male was done with that, he just left her right there though, dazed and confused and on the ground. Vanvyre shook her head in exasperation as the cleric headed straight after the dwarf into the inn, and approached their employer’s assistant. “Alright now?” she asked, offering the elf a hand up. Giving her time to reorient, stand up, dust off, and all else, Van stood by her while gazing at the inn, listening to the ominous creaking inside. “Are you sure this Inn isn’t one of those buildings to be torn down as well?” she questioned the butler, tone half dubious, half teasing.
 
Phandalin, population: soon to be doubled, or tripled. The name just rolled off the tongue. Apparently some elf had been traveling about in search of people to fix the hamlet up, and instead of getting in touch with the carpenters' guild or a group of laborers, they sought out a number of mysterious looking people from different backgrounds, most of them armored and armed to the teeth, and among them, one very confused tiefling whose attention had been snared with the word underpopulated.

This tiefling was boarded onto the wagon for what should have been the duration of the trip, but after an hour of sitting around, watching the sights as they drifted off into the horizon, and trying very hard not to scratch at an irritating itch on their skin, said tiefling leapt out of the wagon and wandered off. No explanation was given: just a sudden jump, followed by the sound of scalemail hitting the ground as the bright red passenger departed.

By the time Phandalin's farmhouses had come into view, the tiefling had returned, walking apace with the wagon a few meters away. A frown creased their lips: if the close proximity on the wagon was unpleasant, then the corpses strewn about the village were unbearable from the stench alone. That carrion had yet to pick the corpses clean was either nothing short of a miracle, or a sign that the houses in the outskirts had been abandoned for far longer than the town's recent guests. Either way, it was bad news: left alone, corpses draw gnats, flies, disease, mosquitoes, and occasionally would-be necromancers (still "pests," but they require a different sort of exterminator). Ishte would need to find a shovel, and quickly.

When the strange gathering of misfits disembarked, the tiefling stayed back: the sign had been dealt with and the serving girl given magical treatment within seconds, and any notion of scouting into the building itself was met with a dwarven woman insulting everyone's gait. It made no difference: between the two that were entering the building, they probably had everything covered. So Ishte turned their attention toward Vanvyre and Krisynore.

"Tear this building down too? Seems a big place to start before we've even peeked inside. It doesn't look like this place has much left to offer without the Stovehull Inn to house travelers." The tiefling scratched at their horn. "Are you okay, though? That was a close one. Suppose it's a sign of things to come."
 
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As soon as the corner of the dilapidated sign smacked her shoulder, Krisynore dropped like a sack of potatoes. A smarting pain blossomed on that area, and she desperately grasped at it, covering her shoulder with her hand. The sign clattered beside her, now gently roasted by the flames that knocked it off course. The butler stared at the sign, then craned her neck to stare at her shoulder, then back at the sign, and promptly burst into tears. In all her years of employment to Lady Bilthine, she had never experienced such physical pain and trauma (save for that time when she’d purchased a new book and the freshly printed pages sliced her forefinger).

“You need to pay attention! Ja?”

Krisynore looked up at Gudren, the fire genasi and most likely the source of the flame. She started to speak, but Saria, the pirate interrupted her.

"Aye, I would say so, lass."

The steady stream of tears continued falling down the butler’s face as her mistress’s employees chastised her. Her cheeks heated up and she glowered at them whilst sobbing loudly. Technically, yes, the two adventurers were correct--Krisynore should have paid more attention to this garbage heap of a town--but it’s not like she asked to be here! She wasn’t built for this kind of work! She was a butler, meant to serve her lady in a fancy mansion with walls, and no broken signs, and no rotting bodies! She begged, BEGGED Lady Bilthine to send anyone else in her stead. Johnphen the stable boy! Even Sir Doggard, Lady Bilthine’s hound would have been a more suitable choice! But nooo, Krisynore was the only one her mistress could trust to oversee this group of...rag-tag...Meatheads!

Her inner monologue was interrupted when the silent one--Solomon, approached and healed her. The smarting pain on her shoulder--which she hoped didn’t leave a mark--faded away. Krisynore suddenly felt silly for crying so much after her pain was erased so quickly.

“Th-thank you,” she mumbled. She held out a hand for the man to take to help her up, but he left her as quickly as he’d approached. Vanvyre, the warlock came to her aid and helped her up. The butler shot her a grateful smile. It seemed that chivalry wasn’t dead after all!

Krisynore stood up shakily and brushed the splinters of roasted wood off of her clothes. She let out a surprised bark of a giggle at the half-elf’s question.

“Are you sure this Inn isn’t one of those buildings to be torn down as well?”

“Unfortunately, this inn is on the list of buildings that Lady Bilthine wants to remain intact. If it were up to me though, I would have it torn down and replaced with a cafe.”

She turned to Ishte, the tiefling as she approached them.

"Tear this building down too? Seems a big place to start before we've even peeked inside. It doesn't look like this place has much left to offer without the Stovehull Inn to house travelers. Are you okay, though? That was a close one. Suppose it's a sign of things to come."

Another giggle erupted from Krisynore at the Ishte’s play on words. A moment ago, she might have stared death into her eyes, but now that she wasn’t injured or crying, it was kind of funny! Krisynore enjoyed puns immensely.

“A sign of things to come? How clever! But yes, I’m fine now, thank you. I suppose we should venture into this...Inn. Lady Bilthine arranged for this inn to be your home for the coming months. It is to my knowledge that the inn is run by one Tobias Po--”

“Tobia, not Tobias! Tobia Pook, at’cha service!” The shutters of a window on the second floor slammed open, and a burly human woman sporting a well-maintained afro with a streak of gray running through the middle stared down at the three women. “I was just tidyin’ up the rooms for y’all! Come on in! But watch ya steps! Bits of the floor are weak, so ya gotta tiptoe, a little. Oh and sorry, bout the sign. I figured y’all would fix it before it fell, but at least now ya know, huh? Haha! I’ll meet y’all in the dining room in a minute!”

Inside the inn, the dining area was in shambles just like the rest of the town. A thick layer of dust blanketed every piece of furniture save for one wobbly round table in the center of the room. Eight chairs of varying sizes and styles were arranged around it. A few foot-sized holes littered the wooden floor, and a chandelier which used to be affixed to the ceiling was lying on top of the table which was broken in half. The walls were splattered with dried dark brown stains, and the wallpaper was out of fashion, season, and mostly ripped to shreds. There’s a bar with about three stools in front of it. There’s a wooden door behind the bar, most likely leading to the kitchen. A staircase leads up to a second floor, and descending the staircase is Tobia Pook, dressed in a white blouse, brown tunics, and a sleeveless faded red vest.

Tobia thundered down the stairs. When she saw one of her guests with her foot stuck in the floorboards, she let out a hearty laugh. “Sorry ‘bout that gal! The floorboards haven’t been changed in--well before I even came to own this place! Ya just gotta jimmy ya leg a little bit, then you’ll get loose.”

She ambled over to a window by the door and poked her head out to address the other guests. “Come on, in! The rooms are clean, but there are only two of em with two beds each. The other rooms ain't very suitable for sleeping, or livin'. I figure y'all can bunk up."
 
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As the floorboard gave beneath her feet, Ox barked out a squeal of surprise and fell back into the man who had disregarded her warnings about the dangerous terrain.

It was a briefly lived momentary weakness for which she would chide herself later. By the time the stranger appeared to warn her of the obvious, Ox had pulled herself free, clearing her throat and brushing off her boot, "Clearly I have uncovered a devious and dangerous trap, but it has been disabled." Looking back at the man who had broken her fall, she gave a nod.

"You are brave, small one! Come! Let us ensure the rest of this hovel is secure. I've no need for a bed, but the others appear soft and fragile. I imagine they will require such luxuries."
 

As others of the party had crowded around and tended to the fallen Krisynore, the genasi had quite willingly surrendered the space to them. Crying people were something that she didn’t really know how to deal with. The decrepit inn was more her forté than the stricken elf and it was to the failing building that the genasi turned her attention. A solitary finger pressed against one of the walls was rewarded by a handful of soft, decayed wood fragments.

Examining her rotten prize made Gudren rather glad that the rather peculiar blonde dwarf and strange silent man had charged on it already. If their action was foolhardy or just foolish it mattered not to the genasi. They would discover just how sound the structure was, one way or another. That meant the rest of the group had been saved the task and the consequences rested solely upon the shoulders of the mismatched pair. That was a perfectly agreeable state of affairs.

What was less agreeable was Krisynore announcing to the others who had remained outside that not only did this building have to be saved; they were supposed to live in it too. The thought made the red eyed woman’s skin crawl. What made this dump worth saving? Surely a short swift fire and building something new would be far easi-

“Tobia, not Tobias! Tobia Pook, at’cha service!”

Her attention yanked upwards to a window above her head, Gudren stared at the portly woman bidding the group to come inside. Their presence on an upper floor was a testament that the building probably wasn’t about to collapse despite all the other evidence. It was perhaps the only fact so far that had presented itself that suggested saving the building was a worthwhile effort. The fact that there were only enough beds for half of the party was one that suggested it was not and irritation about this fact was quite evident to see as Gudren turned to the others.

“I guess we should go and see just how far our brave compatriots got?”

The interior of the inn did not disappoint in regards to being disappointing. Taking in the reddish gloom blanketed interior, the frown that covered the genasi’ face morphed into a full-blown scowl. Once more the idea of simply turning around and walking out of town crossed her mind and once again it was dismissed, although this time with the caveat that she would be having words with Miss Bilthine at some point in the future.

“You have a charming home here.”

The words directed at the descending Tobia as the red head carefully made her way across the room and put her belongings down on one of the chairs were an obvious lie. Possibly a particular dull or naive child might have believed the genasi but that was about it. If in the moment Gudren were to be compared to a book, it would be the kind with more pictures than words and carefully rounded corners.

“Since there is still daylight, we should get on with something. Do you have any suggestions as to what we should attend to first Mrs Pook?”

Red eyes swung towards Krisynore and a spark flashed as fingers snapped in the direction of the elf.

“Or does your mistress have anything specific in mind for us girl?”​

 
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"Well done," Came Markael's deep tones as Solomon healed the girl, but then the younger man was moving off and quite possible didn't hear the words of praise. No matter, the words had been given.

It was awkward being left with the girl, he had traveled alone so long that he had almost forgotten if it would be appropriate for him to offer her a hand up, but then another one of his new companions was there to do just that. He listened with half an ear as they discussed the fact that the building was to be left intact, and that it was where they were to stay for their time in town. With the other he listed to what was going on around him.

The dead would need to be buried and soon, and other buildings surveyed and torn down if deemed an urgent danger. They would need to ensure that the living in town had livable conditions, check that clean water could be accessed and food grown, and only after that should they begin repairs and rebuilding on the unoccupied buildings. The fallen sign, had to him, been a sign that the safety of the current residents should be paramount.

It was a lot, and was going to be a lot of time spent with other people. He was going to have to relearn how to do that. And yet he was sure he had been called to this...

"I can sleep comfortably on the floor," He rumbled quietly in response to the Inn Keeper's assessment of their sleeping conditions, Offering her a small bow in thanks. The chain clinked under his coat as he did, and then followed his red haired companion inside, listening as she complemented their lodgings tactfully and asked about their upcoming tasks.

"I also think we should also discuss setting up a rotating watch for the night." Surly the others would see the wisdom in the suggestion. "And we may also want to see if this town has any fortifications that need to be repaired... a wall perhaps?"

He lowered his hood as he spoke, revealing the ruggedly handsome face of a human male in his early 30s. Piercing grey eyes darted about the room. He did not smile. The collar of his slate blue shirt, which peaked up from beneath his chainmail, bore fraying, navy embroidery of the symbol of Eldath.
 
Saria listened to everyone stepping aside from the doorway for a time to allow access to the elf woman getting help or whatever you want to call the attention on her. Finally seeing a glimpse inside the doorway where everyone was to enter Saria gave a faint sign. Her crew's ship she must say somehow managed to be in considerably much better shape than this inn. On top of that, only two rooms made Saria carefully skim over her party once more. 'Should I already start making nice?'

"Oh, my mates we are going to learn a lot about each other real fast I'd say with only two rooms. I don't want a room with any snores now ya understand?" She bluntly commented to everyone as each began to make their own way within the Inn. If this should even still be called an Inn for Saria's own opinion it's more like a guest house perhaps or a run-down tavern certainly not large enough for an Inn.

Saria finally begins to make her own way into then slowly to make sure not to get in the way of the fallen champion within the floorboard. She doesn't go far into the Inn for now simply to take the sight in before possibly stepping on more weak boards.
 
“So…We’re going to have to eventually repair this somehow, huh?” Vanvyre commented, giving the inn a very dubious once-over. She turned to the tiefling at her comment. “Oh, hey, welcome back.” She grinned at the impromptu renaming of the inn. “You sure it isn’t the Stoke Hell Inn? Sounds more appropriate,” she joked. Van did wince at the bad pun – the butler elf was amused for some reason, though – but thankfully, Tobia saved them almost on time with her appearance.

“How is this not a condemned building yet,” was muttered in disbelief by a somewhat perplexed and nearly resigned half-elf after all the inkeeper’s warnings. The insides sure matched the introduction, what with all the broken, dirty, old, and mismatched items. Van tiptoed carefully around the holes and the momentarily stuck dwarf, trying not to stare too hard at the sheer vileness of the building.

It would be difficult to say that she’d seen worse, because this really was on its own level. To the point that it was almost fascinating, honestly, though Vanvyre had no idea how they – a bunch of adventurers rather than professional janitors or carpenters or any other sensible professionals – were supposed to fix all this. Ah, well, they’d just have to make do. Her first pay rested on it, if nothing else. The warlock withheld a sigh, as she wandered near to Kris again.

“Just to make sure, but is the whole of the town like this?” she spoke quietly (not quite in a whisper), though her tone and bearings were all casual and neutral, as if she really were just making some polite chatter. “No other empty houses? You don’t usually stay here, do you? Actually, where is the Lady where we’re at it?” If they were lucky, maybe there were some other dwellings they could spread out to, though Vanvyre wasn’t counting on it.

Some of her other more valiant companions were already proclaiming they’d give up their bed, asking what there was to do, being very responsible and concerned about the town’s safety et cetera. Vanvyre’s main concern right not was just to discover if they could make their lodgings more pleasant. They were to stay here for a while, so it’d be nice not to be crowded for the duration. Just imagining spending one night with all these assorted characters made her mouth twitch oddly. Somehow, she’d not taken into account this side of adventuring into account when she’d signed up. If this is inevitable, I should at least find a way to make it fun…
 
Solomon nearly stopped dead in his tracks at the familiar voice behind him. Well done. His lips perked upwards. Bless him, Eldath. He took a shallow intake of breath once his feet crossed the threshold. Perhaps he should have stayed behind to assist the elven butler. He did not like to hear the cries of the injured, yet there was still that instinct of touch and go when it came to his healing. Before he joined the clergy it was easier that way. Simply drown out the sounds, place your hand on their bloody clothes, watch the little glow, go to the next until there was no more noise less. It was...by no means something he was proud of it. Kicking the little things were going to be more difficult than he anticipated. His fingers dug beneath the collar of his breast plate, tugging the holy symbol free. He pressed his lips to it briefly. Guide me, even as I remain foolish. He tucked the pendant to its safe spot swiftly.

His eyes returned to the dwarf sauntering before him. Trap? His hand hovered over er with the sudden drop into the floorboard. She was able to wiggle out before he could loop his fingers under her arm and tug her free. "Small?" He whispered his first word in almost a day, a little smile digging at the corners of his lips. "Aye, to one so mighty, it is my honor." He cupped his fist over his heart, bowing his head as if to pay respects. He paused. Floor would do. He would room with whoever wanted his presence. It did not matter to him. Comfort was something he gave up a long time ago.

For now? He supposed he'd place any of his remaining items in his corner of the room. The building was...falling apart at the seams. Yet, not the worst Solomon had ever put his eyes on. He recalled long ago when he'd huddle in his cloak, watching spiders skitter across the walls and dust sprinkle overhead. He sniffed absentmindedly. At least it was not the familiar copper he had grown accustomed to. He gave a respectful nod to Tobia.

"Many thanks for your graciousness." His mouth drew close once more. It still hurt to get even a few words past. It was not an unbearable ache. There was something satisfying about the rumble in his throat, knowing he had kept to his oath. He bobbed his head in Markael's direction. It was good to see him, even if he could not vocally express this. He knew he had been right, there needed to be fortifications if they wanted the town to be safe. Any risk of raids now would surely insure repair efforts to be useless. His eyes scanned through his new found associates absentmindedly. The dwarf, Markael and I may make for good guardsmen. If there are magic users they could start minor repair until sentries and walls are set in stone...if they are willing, that is. I have faith.
 
Krisynore cautiously picked her way into the inn. Every time a floorboard so much as creaked, she would freeze and whimper apprehensively. But when nothing similar to the sign incident occurred, she made her way to the round table. After inspecting the hodgepodge of mismatched chairs, the butler elected to stand. Her clothes were already dirty from that damnable sign, and she couldn’t bear another blemish.

“You have a charming home here.”

Tobia released a sharp bellow of laughter when one of the newcomers “complimented” her inn. She picked up on the lie but the comment didn’t bother her. The Stonehill Inn was a piece of shit when she’d moved to the town, and neither she nor the previous owner ever had the means to fix it up. Aside from a few basic repairs here and there, the inn was the same as when the orcs first ransacked it. And of course, the Redbrands hadn’t made it any better--the scoundrels.

“Do you have any suggestions as to what we should attend to first, Mrs. Pook?”

Tobia belly laughed again, and waved her hand in the air as if dismissing a notion. “No need for th’ formalities! An- whoever said I was married? I’m free as a bird, darlin’!” She wiggled her left hand in front of the party, so they could notice the lack of a wedding band. “As for what to do--Well, there’s plenty. I got big ol’ rats an’ bugs in th’ cellar.” She pointed at the door behind the bar.

“Part of the roof is collapsed in th’ back, crushin’ th’ other six rooms that woulda’ been ‘vailable. An’, unfortunately, when those adventurers blazed through here an’ killed all them Redbrands, they left a few bodies under the rubble, so it stinks something awful. I burnt sweet smellin’ herbs ‘fore y’all came, but eventually, the stench’ll seep through. If you could maybe dig those out, that’d be wonderful.”

“And of course there’s other things to do ‘round town, but I couldn’t tell you the half of it. You could start at the tavern! The lovely dwarven ladies runnin’ it can tell you more than I can, since their place is the only “hot spot” ‘round town.”

“Or does your mistress have anything specific in mind for us girl?”

Krisynore narrowed her eyes at Gudren when the latter snapped at her, then turned to Tobia. “Lady Bilthine informed me that a certain unsavory demographic has made this town their home. Can you speak on this?”

Tobia seemed conflicted for a moment. She sighed and ran a hand through her tight coils. “Ah, yeah the goblins. They ain’t bad or nothin’, just different. They live over at Alderleaf farm, well what used to be the farm. Now it’s more of a junk heap courtesy of the goblins. They do love their trinkets and ‘shinies!’ But yes, I suppose their being here is an issue. They have a tendency to steal and they can be downright nasty sometimes. Goblins in general--I mean. These ones are different, more flighty and they keep to themselves.”

Krisynore wrinkled her nose at the mention of goblins. Her mistress had told her that she didn’t care about what happened to the goblins, so long as they didn’t cause trouble. Tobia didn’t seem to have anything against them, but hm...She would have to meet them face to face. Ugh...She shuddered at the thought.

"And we may also want to see if this town has any fortifications that need to be repaired... a wall perhaps?"

Tobia turned to the longhaired male who had bowed to her. Man, these newcomers were stiff! She chuckled and wiped a tear from her eye. “Fortifications? Fortifications! The only fortifications this town has is Roberto and honestly, half the time he does more hiding’ than fortifyin’.

Krisynore turned to Vanvyre as the warlock asked her questions.

“Just to make sure, but is the whole of the town like this? No other empty houses? You don’t usually stay here, do you? Actually, where is the Lady where we’re at it?”

“To my knowledge, yes. This inn can serve as an accurate image of the rest of the town. There are empty houses, but I don’t know the state of them. As for my lodgings, my lady gave me the option of staying here or at the manor.” She narrowed her eyes when Vanvyre asked about Lady Biltine’s location. “The lady’s whereabouts is none of your concern, but if you must know, my lady is to remain in Neverwinter until the town is restored, as was covered in the terms of your contract.”
 
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Not one to ask questions, and not particularly one to listen when they were answered, Ox busied herself as she wandered about the tattered innards of the old inn. The squander was noticeable, but there wasn't much about it that truly got beneath her skin. Truth be told, home wasn't much better, and what qualified for dwelling spaces there were generally held together by mud, spit and sheer will power. The others seemed put off by the ransacked living space, but it did little to bother the barbarian woman.

"I can handle the roof collapse and get to work on movin' out those bodies." She responded, as that bit of information passed through their party, "Though I wouldn't be opposed to a bit of aid, I suppose." It wasn't that she couldn't handle it herself, but there was something vaguely... eerie about dealing with corpses by one's lonesome. They didn't scare her - nothing did, really - but they were mighty unsettling, "It sounds like best course of action might be seein' to the livin' bits downstairs, though. And they'll fetch a fine enough meal, for later."

A brow raised suddenly at the butler woman's response to the question asked of her, and the corner of Ox's lip twitched up in an amused sort of smirk. A choice between squalor or a cozy night in the manor that no doubt had more than enough room for all of them and the remaining townsfolk. Rich folk were awful funny, sometimes. Not that it made much difference to Ox. Luxury wasn't something she'd ever been accustomed to and it wasn't something she much envied, either.

Shaking her head, she hooked her larger axe to its scabbard at her back and freed one of the handaxes from her hip, before moving to the door behind the bar. Smashing rats and bugs seemed considerable more affective and entertaining than standing around jabbering about plans with a half-aware bookworm.

"Right! Who's with me?" She announced with forthright authority, giving it a solid (and wholly unnecessary) kick with her heel.
 
Ishte shuffled in toward the back of the group, taking a careful step here and there until they found their way to the nearest wall away from the door, preferring not to draw attention to themselves out of habit more than anything else: villages and tieflings didn't often get along, and cities even more-so, but there was something else Ishte wasn't about to tell everyone just yet. Lucky for the tiefling, Tobia and Krisynore brought up enough relevant information that those questions wouldn't even need to be asked.

A quiet chuckle escaped the tiefling's lips, followed by a teasing imitation of some horrible play. "Oh no, there are only four beds and nine of us. However shall we keep warm? There are blankets enough for us all, if we huddle together. But it would be so unseemly. You are a warrior, and I am but a humble traveler on a pilgrimage." 'twas folly best ignored, but then again, 'twas also folly best left unspoken, unless one needed something to pull their thoughts away from talk of decaying corpses, infestations, and destroyed buildings.

Ishte had little of interest to tell anyone. It sounded like the warriors of the bunch knew what they were doing, so the tiefling would need to be a step or two ahead. Mention of the manor and the absence of Lady Highborn immediately piqued their interest. "Of course, the manor. Were I a band of angry axemen in search of something to axe, the biggest house would be my first stop. Who knows, perhaps they left a shovel behind. We're going to need several, if the rest of the hamlet's like this. And a place to put the bodies..." <Check: Nature = 3> ".....Farmland is soft, and crops need nutrients to grow. There are also trees outside that wouldn't mind a little decomposition. Phandalin could use less carrion being drawn to it." Two obvious choices for a destination, but somehow conveniently missing that such a thing could spook the local cattle, if not spread disease to them.

In any case, Ishte left with neither further explanation nor a request for aid or an escort: if any chose to follow, they wouldn't be shooed away, but if nobody did, the tiefling would take a quick survey of the surroundings before walking toward the manorhouse.
 
"Both are terrible choices for a graveyard," Markael responded to his new tiefling companion bluntly, "But our warrior friend is right. Dealing with the current danger first would be advisable. I imagine if we work together we can make quick work of deterring any threatening critters, and then move on to retrieving and burring the dead....."

He cut himself off as he saw the dwarven woman was already moving to take care of the most pressing problem at hand. With a sigh he moved behind her, lifting his maul over his shoulder and adjusting his grip on his shield. "I don't like battle, but if you insist on this fight I will watch your back."

He hated battle with a passion as a matter of fact, even though he had been thoroughly trained in it. And if the fight had been against a sentient being of any kind Markael would not be volunteering to help. Rats eating the food stores were a different matter though. And the dwarf warrior seemed keen on the prospect of the fight to get rid of them.

He glanced over his shoulder until his eyes found Solomon's, a jerk of his chin to the side seemed to be a wordless invitation for the lad to jump in and lend a hand as well. A moment later the grey eyes gaze seemed to find the others by turn, seeking any other volunteers to help.
 
“Hey, now, no need to get so defensive, I mean no harm to the Lady,” Vanvyre grinned, briefly rising her hands to show her genuine intent. “It’s just…Well, if she won’t be here at any point while we are, I’m sure she won’t mind us appropriating the manor, right? Especially since we’ll have to take care of it eventually anyway, if it’s in as bad a state as the rest of the town,” she said, eyes glimmering in pleasure. The idea of staying at a fancy manor was undoubtedly an attractive one. She wouldn’t mind this Hell Inn, either – but it didn’t even have enough place for all of them right now, and that was just miserable.

She then turned to listen to the variety of tasks described, humming. If securing a good place to rest wouldn’t be her current priority, then she’d definitely go to the tavern. Let’s put that second on the list, she noted mentally. She wasn’t sure what to think of the info on goblins, but supposed it might be interesting to go talk to them once the other things were taken care of.

Since at least two people had already volunteered to take care of the Inn, Van didn’t feel obligated to do so as well. So, she shook her head in denial when one of the males began pointedly looking at the others after he offered to aid the dwarven woman. “Nah, you look like you got this handled. I’m going to see how some other places look,” she said, then departed, following the tiefling.

The only thing that mildly concerned her about the horned woman so far were her odd ideas on what to do with human carcasses, though it was also an amusing notion. Van couldn’t help but wonder if doing something that would usually be unthinkable might actually help the village in some ways. I know *some* beings might find such a thing attractive…

She didn’t mention any of this to anyone, however, and followed Ishte at a fast walk, until she caught up to her. “Heya, going to the manor?” she questioned, though it was more to seek confirmation than anything else; the other woman had mentioned the place and seemed intrigued about it after all.

“I am, for one, sounds a bit more promising than that inn, huh? Though I’m sure there’s a reason the Lady moved out,” she smirked, imagining the noble’s reaction at her abode being ruined. Would she hate ‘peasants’ such as us being in there too? Vanvyre couldn’t help but wonder that, gleeful that they, who were basically in the role of glorified janitors, might get to use a noble’s estate as lodgings. Of course, it was likely that the manor would need more care than several of the town’s buildings combined, given its likely size, but well, they couldn’t really know until they saw what it was like there.