You walk back into the inn that you have made your home to find a number of the locals nursing mugs of ale and cider. With the Sleeping Dragon now entertaining a decidedly more dangerous set of clientele the small, peaceful populace of Phandalin has had to make do with the Stonehill family. As you take a seat under a large stag's mounted head you see a number of your comrades-in-arms milling about and notice the watchful gaze of many of the patrons, who eye you all with open curiosity. Elsa, the young barmaid, stops by to take your order. You can't tell if she is trying to hide the fact that she is staring at the swirling tattoos that cover much of your head, but if she is she does so poorly. She leans forward and whispers in a conspiratorial tone, "You lot are adventurers, aren't ye? Daran Edermath over at the orchard was one once, is what I hear. I've tried to pry some yarns from the man, but his lips are sealed tight as a shambler's grasp. I love a good tale of adventure, so I do hope you and yours will be a bit more forthcoming." She winks and heads off to grab your drink. If you had been hoping to hear of dragons, giants, sorcery or many other topics you would've been well out of luck, but the Redbrands? After a few drinks it seems it was all any of the locals could talk about. Amidst the general griping you honed in on one particular conversation between Toblen's wife Trilena and a woman named Freda: "They've killed them all Freda, Bhaal take their souls, I'm sure of it." "Mayhap they've simply left town, Tri? And maybe they're smarter for it. I have a cousin in Waterdeep that I've sent word to, asking if there is any work for a weaver. I mean to leave before Highharvestide." "They haven't just left! You've heard what the town is saying, those Redbrand bastards struck him down in his shop for leering at Mirna and he dared to stand up for his wife. Now they and the children are nowhere to be found because they 'simply left'? Spit in my eye, you aren't that naive." "Maybe they struck him down as you say and they fled, maybe those ruffians struck them all down, or maybe the Dendrar's just wised up and fled and we here all make up stories of their misfortune to hide the deeper truth: no matter the injustice, real or imagined, there is naught we can do about it. Glasstaff's men own this town now. We should all leave." "This is our home and neither I nor Toblen will raise Pip to have courage of a putrid goblin. There is still a chance. They fear the Miner's Exchange. I have asked Toblen to have a word with Halia." "Halia Thornton? Tyr save us! Trilena, you would free us from one band of outlaws by indebting us to the -" Noticing that the ladies have grown ever louder as their passions flared, and perhaps aware of your own attention being applied to them, Toblen interjects himself and whispers something into his wife's ear. Looking a bit flustered she appears to reluctantly force the conversation back toward more menial topics. A few moments later Toblen comes up to you carrying two steins of drink. Handing one off to you and giving it a polite clink with his own, he mentions, "Your warrior friend Sildar asked after you lot today. I didn't know where you'd gone and he seemed a bit perplexed. Claimed he owes you something. Word is our townmaster Harbin Wester is letting the man stay at the Townmaster's Hall a bit south of here - your friend must hold some sway if true. I believe he'd be pleased to see you and your friends and relieve himself of whatever obligation binds him to you, if you should find the time." With a nod and another swig Toblen heads back into the fray of his on-edge patrons.
