August 14, 2020 The party returned to Phandalin and discovered the northern half of the town covered in ice, snow, and frost. They soon learned the town had been attacked by a white dragon. The town militia mounted a defense against the dragon, four of whom lost their lives just south of the Shrine of Luck. Eventually, the dragon grew disinterested in terrorizing the town and flew away to the northeast. Travyn organized and led funerary rites for the fallen and delivered a heart-stirring euology commemorating the bravery of the fallen defenders. His tough-minded, but clear-eyed stoicism was exactly the sort of counsel the people of Phandalin needed to hear. Preditctably, Townmaster Wester was nowhere to be seen both during and after the attack, and the group began to hear of some general dissatisfaction with his hands-off, money-as-the-cure-for-all ills leadership style. However, it seems Townmaster Harbin had not been totally idle--three new quests appeared on the bulletin board. Reviewing the options, the party decided to head to Axeholm, to clear out an abandoned dwarven fortress in the event the people of Phandalin needed a secure place to flee should the dragon return. Taking a much needed day of rest, the party departed for Axeholm the following morning, under gray skies, unseasonable cool temperatures, and driving wind and rain blown of the Sword Coast. Arriving at the fortress, the group puzzled over how to gain entrance into its considerable defenses. The portcullis would not budge, so Travyn climbed through an arrow slit and Cormac misty stepped through the wall to gain access to the east and west bulwarks. There, they found winches to raise and lower the portcullis. The only problem? Neither were strong enough to break the rust free of the winch. Cormac used the last of his butterskull to grease the winch, girded himself for the effort, and nearly gave himself a hernia and little else for his efforts. Getting old sucks... Travyn then grabbed hold of the slippery winch and gave it a go--and found success! Greasy-handed, Cormac and Travyn then tried to find and open the double door that loomed beyond the portcullis. Travyn detected the presence of undead nearby, so they were very cautious in this endeavor, but eventually worked their way back to the entrance to let their companions inside the great mustering hall. Inside, reunited, the adventurers delved Axeholm and encountered and defeated packs of dwarven ghouls, a wailing drow banshee, and perhaps most importantly, a magnifcently-top-hatted dwarven ghoul--none other than the debased form of Valthur Axeholm himself! Chiao, Cormac, Matthias, Simplejack, and Travyn were pushed to the limits against these foes, but they worked like a well-oiled machine, nay, a well-buttered winch, and cut through their foes like a hit knife through butter. Even through the incorporeal banshee, as weird as that might seem... In any event, Travyn delivered the finishing blow to the Ghoul Lord, a scorching ray that burned the creature into little more than a sooty stain. Curiously, no hats were harmed in this stupendous display of pyrotechnics, rather, the tophat was carried aloft in the thermals created by the intense heat, did an acrobatic pirouette as it lofted through the air, and dropped right onto Travyn's pointy dome! And that was all she wrote, with the power of the Hat now completely on their side, no loose hatless stragglers, the fellowship made quick work of the rest of the fortress, collected some treasures for their effort, and readied Axeholm for occupation--should it be necessary... PCs Present: Chiao, Cormac, Matthias, Simplejack, Travyn Items Gained: Potion of Superior Healing, iron coffer, platinum holy symbol of Abbathor on a thin but sturdy gold chain (100 gp), +1 hand axe , +1 shield , tarnished brass buckle (5 gp), and 250 gp from Townmaster Wester upon returning to Phandalin for completing the quest Items Lost: Butterskull :(