"You got poison in there somewhere?" Tex asks, looking to Eberac's beard, then back to the cave before shaking his head and taking the reins. "We're already out. Might be we could come back in the morning and grab some of the extra supplies, try to recoup some o' those losses. Fer now, I think it's best we press on."
Assuming no disagreement, he'll guide the carriage about a mile up the road (parking it on a hill with decent visibility, if possible). "I'll grab the first watch," he says. "I got prayin' ter do anyway." Delicately, he takes the badge from inside his coat, where he placed it before climbing the trash chute earlier, and pins it to his front collar again.
The posse debates the finer points of their plans for a short while, and decides to make for Phandalin while they can and camp a little further off from a cave full of treacherous goblins. By the time they make it back to the wagon, the evening is coming on, and they make it just an hour or so down the road before stopping for the night.
The next morning they start off bright and early, with Sild Winter taking a place on the wagon. The retired Marshal looks to be doing better, although still somewhat the worse for wear from his capture. The road remains clear of trouble for the rest of the trip, and in the mid-afternoon, the wagon trundles over a small hill, turns a bend, and the town of Phandalin comes into view.
The town is very much still a frontier settlement, consisting of forty or fifty simple log buildings, with the occasional old fieldstone foundations. There are some older ruins from former attempts at settlement, mostly a fort that fell some hundred-odd years ago--low stone walls crumbling and covered in ivy and briars here and there, robbed for stone to lay foundations on newer buildings. The cart track you've been following widens out to a muddy main street of sorts, and most of the buildings standing now are built along the sides of this road as it climbs uphill to a ruined manor house on the east side of town.
As the wagon moves down the road into town, Sild points to a particularly large and homey-looking building constructed from timber and stone. "There, the Stonehill Inn. I've heard it has fine lodgings. We should stop there, unless you have another idea?"
"Today's a much better day," Tex says, first thing in the morning. He looks significantly more cheerful than he did when leaving the cave. He's brushed most of the muck off his clothes, and his badge is freshly polished. "And I think I can make it a little better for you too, Marshall," he continues, reaching up and placing his hands on the man's shoulders. "Shelter the Light, sir."
"Well, we ain't been on the trail too long, but after that whole ordeal, I reckon we could use a real meal and a bed," Tex says. Glancing over at the others, he adds, "And after that trash chute, we could probably all use a bath, too. Ha!"
"Can't take a bath. There aren't any lakes here."
"Or I could be cleaning you up with magic. What do ya reckon will happen when we get to Phandelver Sherrif? With our employer gone an' all. Looking over to Tex "I'm not gonna complain too much with a bed fer the night. ["
The party drives the wagon down to the large building, and as they pull the horses to a halt, the doors swing open to reveal a thin human man, with short, tussled brown hair and a thin beard. He comes out a tad nervous-like, glancing up and down the street, and he wipes his hands on his apron. "Can I help you folks? Name's Tobias Stonehill, I run this inn. You need lodgings?"
"Yes"
Muttering to himself as they keep moving and finally approaches the innkeeper "What is wrong with camping outside... its better than be stuck with bunch of giants and feeling shunned. Smelling is also great way to deter beast, usually indicating poison or other toxics."
Looking outside at the wilderness with longing eyes "There you can do what you want and live how you want." and with a whisper to himself "or no one forcing you to wash yourself..."
Reaching up to pat the dwarf on the shoulder. "No worries Eb, we don't intend on moving in. Just a short stay till we be movin on I'm sure. " Looking to the innkeeper "Gooday on ya sir! A pair of rooms would be great, but you seem concerned about sumthin. If your needin the space for something else we can pass on by. "
"Of course, of course." Tobias gives a quick smile and looks at Jack. "Oh, no, we have room, just... well, come in off the street and we'll get you set."
Sild Winter needs only a little assistance to get down from the wagon now--he's clearly much better after Tex's help--and the posse heads inside the inn. It's a pleasant building, with a tavern setup on the first floor here: hardwood floor and timber walls, with old-fashioned oaken furniture about the place. At the moment it's decently full up, with townsfolk eating or drinking here and there. Tobias Stonehill heads for the bar and glances back at the group. "Separate rooms or shared? We've got enough empty either way, thanks to..."
His voice drifts off abruptly, and he takes another look at the new arrivals. His eyes linger particularly on their weapons, and Tex's badge. "You lawmen? Bounty hunters? Guns for hire?"
"Separate, else I'll keep y'all up all night with m' worship an' carryin' on," says Tex, adjusting his belt up. He spends a second taking in the cozy little inn, his hand reaching up and tracing a line in the timber of the wall appreciatively. He turns when Tobias mentions lawmen. Giving a wry smile between him and Mr. Winter, Tex says quietly, "Once 'pon a time," he says, glancing down at his badge. His eyes slide over the townsfolk in the main room. "This a conversation you need to have in private, Mister Stonehill?"
Aren says nothing but scans the room, looking for what might be making the innkeep nervous.
The innkeeper seems a bit caught up in things, and doesn't respond to Tex's comment on rooms. Aren glances around, but doesn't spot anything liable to be raising Tobias's hackles... although the man reveals it himself shortly.
"No, no, my inn is plenty fine..." He looks around for a moment, and continues speaking, but his voice is low--only the gathered party can hear him. "Everyone here agrees with me, I think, and I don't think any of them would cause trouble. See, Phandalin's... We're having some trouble with bandits. They moved in a few months back, started hassling travelers and shaking down the townsfolk. Walk around like they own the place, and they practically do, since the mayor won't raise a hand against them out of fear. It's been getting worse, and we'd about given up hope..."
His eyes are downcast for a few moments, but then they come up lit with some hope. "But maybe you can help. I hate to ask folks like this, but I'd be mighty grateful if you could do anything to help."
"No worries Mate, I bet we could help out. Question is though, what happened to the local tinners?" Jack asks, using his native slang term for a sheriff. Looking at the others it seems a quiestion crosses his mind. "Think there might be a reward fer helping out?"
"Who is the leader of these bandits, and where can we find him?"
"Yeah," Tex says, nodding, chewing his mustache slightly. "Yeah, I reckon I can help you with that." He adjusts his collar back up and brushes off the badge. "Sure these fellas would be willin' to pitch in too--Y'all seem like good folk so far." He nods along to both Jack and Aren's questions.
"Wallaby's got a point," he says. "Y'all ain't got no deputies o' your own?"
"It be always matter of strongest in da wild be da boss. Although I will not be giving mah stuff out... expect sharper edge of axe" Eberac speaks out
"And why not do something yarself? plenty of people always be stronger than couple of pansies strolling around"
"The local...?" Tobias is at a loss until Tex clarifies Wallaby Jack's meaning, and he frowns. "No, not anymore. A new sheriff was supposed to arrive a few months back, a trained mage from the city. But that was about when the Redbrands started getting bad, and... well, that sheriff never did make it to Phandalin."
He hangs his head for a moment, and then looks up at Aren. "We don't know about the leader, we don't even know where they're holed up. Probably out in the scrub wood, or in a canyon somewhere not too far off. You can usually find a few at the Sleeping Giant, down the road in town. Nasty place, dirty dingy saloon. And I'd bet five to my dollar Grista waters down her liquor."
Finally the innkeeper turns to Eberac. "As for doing it ourselves, look around. We're a little mining town, not a big city with tough adventurer types. Most of us know how to hold a gun, sure, but some of us ain't ever even shot one. Anyone who's been hard-up enough to stand up to the Redbrands is gone by now. Sal Dender went after them a week back for leering at his wife?" Tobias leans over the counter, eyes wide. "They shot him. They dragged him out and shot him in the street, like a rabid pup. And now the rest of the family's gone. We don't know where they took 'em."
"Well, we can try to grab a couple of them and get them to tell us where they are hiding out, then go deal with the rest of them."
"So I reckon we all rest up," Tex says, after listening through Tobias' reasoning. "Once we're all in tip-top shape, we mosey on over to the Sleeping Giant and do what Aren's suggestin', drag one along and have him guide us the way."
Quietly, and more off-handed, he continues to Eberrac, "Yer not wrong, but these people aren't gonna move unless we get 'um real riled up. Not everybody's as ready to fight as you, ol' timer." He smiles, patting the older dwarf on the shoulder.
"Thank you," Tobias says. His eyes are clearly grateful, and he's obviously glad to hear the party's willing to help. "I'll get you your rooms, don't worry about money. If you need a meal we can get that, too. If you want to talk around town a little bit today, you'll probably be okay, if you don't raise a ruckus. And everyone here is fine enough, nobody's going to say anything."
About as Tobias wraps up his talk, Sild Winter finally speaks up, nodding. "It's good of you folks to offer your help here. I'd do the same if I were younger, still had a quick and steady hand." He stands up and sighs. "But if you've nothing else to do, swing by the mayor's office later on today. I need to talk to him there and get set up a little bit." He reaches up as though to tip his hat, realizes he doesn't have one, and gives a short chuckle before heading out of the inn.
"I'm ready to go now if you guys are. My gun is fully loaded, and I am still well rested."
As he watches Slid amble out of the tavern "I spouse we'll get paid for our services when we meet up with 'im later. I don't know bout you fellas but my coin pouch is about as light as that tumble weed over there. "
Tobias catches Jack's comment on pay and cocks his head. "Didn't you folks pull up with a wagon full of goods? I figured you were planning to sell those off, or use them for something."
"Hmm, I figured ol Slid was gonna take it. I suppose we could take the wagon over to the store and get our payment from them. " Jack heads for the door to do just that.
Aren follows Wallaby out the door.
Tex brushes off his shoulders. "Well, shucks. Guess there's no point in gettin' all cleaned up if we're just gonna go back to work." He nods to Tobias. "Reckon we'll do what we can," he says, and then nods to Eberrac. "No baths after all, eh old timer?" Before following Jack and Aren out.
After some short debate, the posse decides to take the wagon over to Barthen's Provisions to settle up the payment for their services. The store is in the opposite direction of the town hall, but only a short way down the road from the Stonehill Inn, and soon enough they pull the horses up in front of the store. Shortly, a lean, balding human man comes out of the swinging front doors, wearing the plain apron and clothes of a frontier businessman. He peers up at the party, spits a wad of tobacco onto the dirt road, and sniffs. "I'm guessin' y'all are the folk Gundrenn sent my way, then? Was expecting you yesterday evenin', or first thing this morn'. Ain't seen the longbeard hisself, either. Hope there weren't no trouble on the way." His concern seems genuine, and he looks at the party expectantly, awaiting a response.
"Well, uh," Tex glances sheepishly at the others. "There were some goblins. There ain't half as many now." He glances back over his shoulder to wherever Slid Winter walked over to. "Mr. Winter had a rough time 'specially, but we bailed him out. Hear you got troubles of your own in town now, too?"
"Oh, yessir, but..." The man peers up and down the street for a moment, and then hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Let's head on inside. I'll have my boys unload the wagon. Some things, it's best not to let others hear, eh?" He calls a pair of names, and two lanky young humans come out to unload the goods while the storekeeper waves the posse inside.
The store itself is standard fare for a shop of its type: simple construction and lumber shelves placed around the interior, which looks to be a single large room. A number of general wares are on display, from ropes to labor equipment to dried firewood. The old man leads the party toward the counter and pats his hands on his apron.
"Goblins is one thing, and I am sure sorry to hear you young fellas had trouble with that. But ain't just goblins we have in Phandalin these days, no sirs. Them Redbrand fellas just come in here and started causin' trouble for everybody. Mayor seems too afraid to do anything about it... not that I blame him." He sighs and shakes his head. "Elmer Barthen, by the by. Don't mean to be bothering you youngsters with my trouble. Fifty dollars, weren't it?"
"That sounds right. I don't mind helping you out, but I'll need to know what's going on first."
"I don't have much of a head for numbers--Wallaby, does that sound about right?" Tex asks quietly before nodding along with the kid. "We're happy to help, least I sure am, but anything you can tell us would be a big help."
As Barthen hands out the bills, he shrugs at Aren and Tex. "Isn't much I can tell you, to be honest. They just showed up in town a ways back, and ain't been nothing but trouble since. Harassing folks, making uncivil remarks toward the women. And if I ain't the first you've talked to, might be you heard about what they did to the Denders?" He looks up, and nods grimly as he sees the posse's heard. "If you're fixin' to do something about them, the Sleeping Giant's your best bet. Always a few of 'em on the porch or inside, drinking and spitting and carrying on."
He sighs and pats his hands on his apron again. "And if you'd like to pack a little more punch when you see them boys, try the Lionshield Coster. I only deal in general goods, but Jeanine's got what's good for hunting and killing. Let her know what you're about, and that I sent you, and she'll show you what you need."
Busy looking through some of the more foreign (for him at least) goods found here in the store, Jack looks up distractedly. "Did ya say me name? Sorry I was distracted fer a bit by your wares. About these red brands though, anybody else in town had any run ins with them and still around to maybe ask em about there encounter?"
"I've already got a Powderblack Peacemaker," says Tex, with a definite edge of pride. "Figure that's the finest gun money kin buy ter begin with." His eyes slide across the rest of the party, particularly lingering on Eberrac's oldschool axes. "Then again, couldn't hurt ter take a look."
"If anybody's had a direct run in, it might give us a real clear idea what we're up against," says Tex. "But the longer we spend asking questions, more time there is for word to get around. Figure we can poke around a little longer, but we shouldn't put off kicking the door to the Sleeping Giant in fer too long."
Aren doesn't really have any more to contribute, so he just nods at the pertinent parts and then says "We should go 'talk' to them. Remember that we need one alive to question, though."
Jack's question raises only a shrug from Barthen. "Most folks have had some sorta run-in with them, strutting around as they have. You ask about anyone in town, they'll have something to say about the Redbrands." He hands out the money and nods, more to himself than the posse.
The group steps outside after Barthen thanks them once more, and they stroll down the street to the town square. It gives them a fair enough fix on looking around the town, and one long road leads up toward the Sleeping Giant saloon on one side. Beyond it, though, it winds up a hillside to a decrepit old manor house, probably built when Phandalin was at the height of its splendor. It may have been beautiful once, featuring architecture popular from back East in those days, but now it's gone to decay and rot up there.
Tex, though, gets even more of a sense from that old building. Rough and tumble saloons are a popular hangabout for ruffians, true, but they don't make very good homes. An abandoned mansion on the hill, though? That'd do just fine for housing a gang of bandits and roughnecks.
"Hey, I got me a suspicion," Tex says, gesturing subtly up to the manor. "Nobody's told us where these fellas hang out when they're not getting soused 'round the Sleeping Giant. I figure we can go by the bar first, but aftewards, we got a pretty good place to take a gander."
"I thought the plan was to go to the bar, capture one and deal with the rest, and then make the captured one take us to their base?"
After some thought, the posse starts up the road toward the old manor house, with the Sleeping Giant near the edge of town along the way. The ramshackle saloon is at the east edge of the town proper, the last building along the road before it trails off toward the crumbling mansion. When the party arrives, four human men linger on the covered porch, perched on ale barrels, the railing, or just leaning against the wall. They all wear grimy scarlet tops--two have shirts, one a vest, and the last a knee-length jacket--and even as you approach, they fix their sullen stares upon you.
When you come to a stop just shy of the porch, the one leaning on the railing leans over and spits a wad of tobacco on the ground near your feet. "Well, boys, what do we have here?" He sneers at our heroes, his voice a gravely snarl. "We got ourselves a pack of little pups. What you come here for, pups? You gonna bark at us?" He makes some yipping noises, and his companions give a collective harsh, dangerous laugh. You note that they all have weapons on them--a pistol on a hip each, and two bear hunting knives.
"Naw," says Tex, moseying up the steps slowly. "I reckon I'm here for a drink. Y'all can keep waving yer dicks around though. Won't make 'em any longer." He raises his off hand and wiggles his pinky slightly, smiling, as he takes his first real step onto the porch.
Tex's commentary makes the speaker of the Redbrands sputter. Another's jaw hangs open, and a third drops his cup to the floor of the porch with a clatter. Even as the dwarf steps onto the porch, though, they recover--and they're fighting mad. "You little spit--" the speaker shouts, and four Redbrands grab for their pistols.
"Ain't 'xactly Godly of me to hope you was gonna do that," Tex says as he draws, spins his revolver and whips the nearest one...
...Hard in the stomach. "But I kinda was."
Jack slips to the side of the encounter using the two dwarves to cover his maneuver. Once in position he itttrs specific arcane words and forms his fingers into a complicated design. A cone of brightly colored magic springs forth and engulfs the three bandits.
"You should have just been nice. Now we won't be."
Aren is walking forward as he speaks, and he pauses for just a moment before moving onto the porch. Once there, he will make a flicking motion at the one who taunted them.
Damn hickeys whole lot of ya. Never pick a fight with dwarves ya rotten skunks when as Eberac grabs his axe and putts with the blunt end towards one of the men family jewels When all yar precious things hands just in front of us!
The posse explode into action on the porch, hitting the Redbrands hard before the ruffians even have the chance to draw their weapons. Tex cracks one across the jaw, sending him backwards in his chair, while Eberac brings his axe up into the groin of another--there's an ominous crunch, and the man collapses to the ground with a groan. The two brigands still standing and drawing are hit by Jack's spell, and they bring their hands up in a daze as the colors blind their eyes. As the man Tex buffaloed staggers to his feet, pistol in hand, Aren flicks at him, and he's sent flying backward to crash through the railing at the edge of the porch. He lands heavy on the ground beyond and rolls once before lying still.
The two Redbrands still standing fire blindly, each aiming for a dwarf. The gunshots are loud, but neither bullet strikes its target--one crashes into the floor of the porch, and the other flies across the street to ricochet with a whine off of a convenient metal pail.
"See, stupid. You could have just been civil. Now you'll just throw down your weapons and surrender."
Aren readies to draw upon his power again should he need it.
"Or else."
"Keep one of 'em alive, if'n you don't mind," Tex says, glancing queasily over at Eberrac's chosen opponent, who looks like a capital A with the bottom hacked out.
Turning away from the one fallen into the chair, Tex spins his revolver again, aiming to pistol whip the kneecap off one of the others that's still standing and blinded by Wallaby's color spray.