We got further than this, but I still would have to log that, should I find the time.
The Lost Mine of Phandelver
A D&D story
Darnday, in the third year of Emerald in the century Granite, in the age of Steel.
As always, journal, this is Baern Battlehammer. And I know it has been a while since I last wrote you. Times have been good, since my resignation. Relatively speaking. And the wavering of my faith, the only plague that still besets me after witnessing all those young dwarves die in the battle of Ankh-Dur, became something I need not write about. It stayed with me forever. I need not pen it down, afraid that I might forget. Such a thing would be a blessing. Allas, today my writings are grave and filled dark thoughts, for a different reason entirely. And even as I write, I cannot get the stench of goblin-blood from my skin and cloth. I admit, I have not felt this kind of fear since my days in the Mintarn army.
A few weeks ago, my cousins, Gundren, Tharden and Nundo Rockseeker, called on me. Gundren was the one to contact me with great news. It seemed they were certain they had a map to the lost mine of Phandelver. Fools gold, a part of me thought. How many hundreds of adventurers hadn't tried to find those buried riches? Mind you, if anyone can do it: it's us dwarves. And if any dwarf can do it; it's one from the clan of Rockseeker.
I love them like brothers. The three of them. But I've never shared in their brash bravery and plain disregard for order, rules and warnings of peril. Still… The gold underneath those heavy slabs of rock and earth called out to me too. Gundren asked me to form a party to escort a wagon, to their base of operations at the Wave Echo Cave. All so that they might start their quest, deep underground. We were to join up with Gundren and his bodyguard and follow them to Phandalin. Along the way, I was free to consider his offer to join my kin.
While before I wondered if I had the courage to join them, I can only pray they have not gone where I cannot follow.
I found them a party, willing to escort the wagon. In Neverwinter, where we left, I met up, by chance with the boy Connor. Scratch that, I've seen the boy grow into a man, just like his father before him. Especially after today, I must call him a man. Sir Connor McFeather. I hope he keeps his strength on him. If so, I'm sure he will one day find the strength to rebuild his ancestral home. He was travelling with his friend, Massimo. A young lad, muscled like a bull, but I fear not quite bright. He has high hopes for the future and a high opinion of himself. I believe he fancies himself a hero. But he has guts, and I applaud him for that. Connor assured me the man was proficient with a bow and a greatsword. A fine weapon that was, handed down by his family for generations. And Connor himself had been training his mastery of javelins and, to my pride, still brandished the great-axe my father had once given to his great-great-great-great-grandfather.
This seemed plenty to me, for such a short trip across the high road and the Triboar trail. But on the night of our departure, while we drank to untold fortune in the local pub, Connor's eye fell on a maiden who seemed most out of place in the dark, comfortable tavern. As he left us to strike words with her, we kept our eyes on the pair. And when she removed her hood, I nearly choked on my ale.
No love is wasted between dwarves and the elvish kind. This is known. And to see one in a place like that… It caught me by surprise, to say the least.
He asked her to join our table. Because, of course he did. And when she did and she sat down, she looked at us. With a polite smile and great care to keep her belongings safe. Amongst which a huge tome, a short-sword and a long staff. But it was clear she was not at easy. Not in our company. Not in a tavern.
So Connor asked her what she was doing here. And do you know what she said? That she was there 'to learn'. Imagine that? If taverns are such springs for knowledge, I suppose that makes me a very educated dwarf.
Her name was Lourda and I admit I found her behaviour at the table most annoying. I need not have my companions be the pinnacle of civilisation, like Connor sometimes upholds to be. But she showed little interest in our well-being or comfort, made no effort to hold eye-contact with anyone and tended not to follow our conversations. Nor indeed allow them. Instead it seemed she opted to pose questions unrelated to our merry talk. I found this most disrespectful in the moment. And with eloquent, yet hard to understand, words, she somehow always seemed to knock us out of our comfort-zone. Exactly how she got my cousin to talk of the his plans of entering the lost mine is still beyond me.
But that seemed to peek her interest. Her pointy ears turned sharper still. And when she enquired to know more, it was with such passion and vigor that it seemed to enchant my cousin. I wonder if it was a spell, as she claims to be an acolyte in the art of wizardry. Or perhaps it is just Gundren strange and exotic tastes. This being, I suspect, one of the reasons why he hasn’t settled down yet, with a sturdy dwarf woman; broad of shoulder and thick of beard. I suppose I can see that she possesses what elves and mankind tend to find attractive features; from the fairness of her skin to her slender wrists and impressive height. But still, Gundren's attraction to such a seemingly fragile doll is beyond me.
She imposed to join us in our trip, talking lengthily about all the forgotten wisdom she could retrieve from within that mine. I did not feel much for it. But I guarded my tongue, waiting for what my comrades might say. Massimo did not object. And Connor was most fervent in allowing her to join our party. He convinced my cousin and his bodyguard, with the charming talk he knew well. Not that my kin needed much convincing. I abstained from speaking on the matter. I know when a cause is decided. I just prayed that she would stick to the knowledge, and leave the minerals and resources to us dwarves.
The next morning, we rose before the sun did and gathered outside the tavern. We took the cart and horse, and a few quick stops later, it was laden with rope, crowbars, pick-axes, rations, torches and more. Anything one might need to excavate a hidden mine, we had with us. This, alas, made things tough for the steed pulling the wagon. I’ve always prided myself for my ability to handle animals, but even I could not make the poor creature pull the cart at a speed sufficient to satisfy my cousin and his trusted companion. All ‘till noon the two of them, the only ones of our party who were on horseback grew more and more aggravated by our slow pace. And come midday, they decided to ride ahead and trust the wagon to us. This way they could prepare for our arrival and already plan the further steps of our adventure, with the rest of our kin. I found it most unwise to split the party. But we were still heavily guarded, with four warriors. And my cousin had his own bodyguard. And both rode swiftly on their mounts. The chance of them being taken down if they rode on, fast, was small. I guarded my tongue and went along, as I so often did. But what was there to argue on, even. Gundren is not only my kin, but he was also my employer. He outranked me. His will were orders, And you follow orders.
It dawns on me that the claws of military life still hold me in their grip.
The departure did not leave our party in the best of spirits. But the rest of the day passed without any trouble. And in the evening Massimo, Connor and I even felt lively enough to play cards. The elven girl kept to herself and instead wrote in her impressive tome. Perhaps she has a journal just like you. I asked not. It were not affairs of mine. And when day broke and we started on the second leg of our journey, we felt much better for it. As a dwarf, I prefer the underground. But there is some arcane beauty to the sun climbing over the seas of grass.
It was not yet mid day, this day, when Massimo spotted the flock of crows. The man had insisted to riding the poor animal, worsening it's load and slowing our pace even further. But he insisted, brandishing his bow and arrow, claiming it would give him a better view of our surroundings; ensuring our safety. And I suppose he had a point. Somewhere, about fifty feet into the plains, there were cadavers of some sort, hidden amongst the thick grass. And if it had not been for him, we might have walked straight past. I would not have started writing you. And I would be still on my way to meet up with Nundo and Tharden; unaware of the grave news I'd have brought with me.
The crows needed not be an ill omen. Perhaps it was simply wildlife; the remains of a deer unfortunate enough to come across a brown bear. But something gnawed deep inside me and made me fearful. In Neverwinter, there had been talk that goblins had made a nest somewhere deep in the Neverwinter Wood. It seemed most unlike for that spawn to dare attack two fearsome, mounted warriors in broad daylight. Amongst whom a dwarf clad in even more impressive armor than myself. They might dare, however, if their numbers had swelled enough; too large to keep their numbers fed on livestock, lone wanderers and untrained farmhands. And we had not encountered much game nor travellers on our quest so far. I feared that if we ventured out into the thick grass, we would find Gundren dead.
There was much debate on whether or not we should check out what was dead. We were given a job, after all. And neither Connor nor the elven girl felt much for leaving the comfort and safety of the wagon the road to untold, buried secrets respectively. And besides, even if it were so; the crows were a sure sign that whatever was left out there was not in any state to care that its flesh was torn from its bones. Were it not for Massimo's lust for adventure and sheer enthusiasm, I too might have been swayed. But if it were my kin… I could not go on. And I could not go on, not knowing if it wasn't so. I could not leave Gundren there, the sun blackening what was left of his skin, with his eyes plucked from his skull, like so many young delvers at Ankh-Dur.
We decided Connor and Lourda would guard the wagon, while Massimo and I set out for the flock, and whatever it would bring. However, as steadfast as the intentions of the young warrior were, his footing was not. And he tumbled spectacularly from his horse. I am ashamed to admit that this shook my faith in the lad and so while he tried to recollect himself, I left him behind and advanced to the corpses on my own. Dissapearing into the thicket of the grass.
