The Triboar Trail, Chapter 9. Showdown

9.1 Rude Awakenings

Ivandale sits down at the campfire, sore from a long days march into unknown territory. He watches Droop hungrily gnaw on a piece of jerky. The sparkle of several rings gleam in the firelight on the goblin’s fingers.

“Say Droop, those are some awfully nice rings. Where did you get them from?” Ivandale asks warmly.

Droop jams the last bit of jerky into his mouth and stares at Ivandale as he finishes chewing. He shrugs as an answer and then points to a gaudy emerald gem. “This ring make Droop powerful.”

Unnerved by the goblin’s deadpan stare, Ivandale slowly asks again, “But where did you get them Droop?”

Droop continues to hold direct eye contact with the elf as he points to an ugly old ruby. The band and setting is tarnished and the large gem is murky. “This one makes Droop brave.” He reveals his sharpened teeth caked with jerky in a disconcerting smile.

Frustrated with the current thread of conversation, Ivandale changes the subject, “Droop. We appreciate your help finding the castle. I know you’re scared of fighting, but maybe I could teach you to use a bow?”

Droop’s ears slap back and forth as he vigorously shakes his head, “Droop no fight. Droop smart, not brave.”

Nalfos finishes setting up his tent and finds a seat next to Ivandale. He withdraws a ring from the folds of his robe and holds it up. “Droop, I found this in the ruins,” he explains. “Do you know anything about it?”

Droop’s eyes light up as they take in the polished pearl mounted on a plain gold band. He slowly shakes his head side-to-side as his jaw falls slack.

Nalfos shrugs and pockets the ring. He withdraws a letter with the same gesture and turns to Ivandale, “I also found this. It was tucked in my bedroll just now.”

Ivandale observes the non-descript slip of paper with a look of concern. “It looks relatively crisp. Who left it for you?”

“It’s signed ‘Oriwynn’.”

“The amber rogue with the scar?”

Nalfos nods, “The very one. She seems fairly well-versed with our progress.” He says as he flips the page open, “She also appears to be in contact with her guild. They’ve warned us not to kill Glasstaff. They want him alive.”

Ivandale scoffs, “Alive? This would go a lot smoother without that limitation.”

Nalfos refolds the slip of paper. “Apparently he’s been working on some valuable magic. Teleportation and Invisibility.”

Droop reaches into his pocket and withdraws another piece of jerky, watching Nalfos’s hand as he pockets the letter.

Nalfos continues, “I don’t disagree Ivan, but Oriwynn’s guild isn’t a group I’d like to cross. In fact, she has information I need. I’d like to have the advantage on her the next time she makes an appearance.”

Ivandale sighs, “Yeah, alright. We’ll try to take him back alive. If we can even find him.”

Nalfos nods, “Are you taking first watch? I’m drained and wont be much good without some rest.”

“Yeah, Tink and I can take the first shift. I’ll tell the rest that you’ll be last.”

Ivan looks back across the campfire as Nalfos gets up. The little goblin continues to watch Nalfos’s pockets as he leaves the firelight.

“It’s nice of Valoric to share his rations after carrying you all day, Droop. You should probably join him and get some sleep.”

Droop croaks a response as he chews, “This is yours!”

A laugh erupts from Nalfos as he ties his tent-flap closed. “Good luck with first watch!”

9.2 Morning March

The campfire smolders at Nalfos’s feat as he studies his spell book. It’s pages now lit by the amber glow of the sun rising in the eastern sky. His attention is stolen by the sound of a snapped twig behind him.

He summons an illusion near the source of the sound, just outside the shadows of a small thicket. His illusory housecat leaps into the shadows causing a man yells in surprise. A sword flashes in the sunlight as the blade bites into the cats form. The illusion pops in a puff of orange smoke, broken by the impact.

The yelp stirs Ivandale who rises from his tent. As he stands, a crossbow bolt streaks past his right ear. The fletching catches the edge of his hood and continues into the trunk of a lone oak tree behind his tent. The impact echoes with a violent ‘crack’. The wood splits and bark erupts from the side of the tree.

The noise wakes Valoric and Tinkerella. They each carefully exit their tents, followed lastly by Meza.

Two red-cloaked humans step out through the dissipating orange smoke near the thicket. One of them holds a crossbow, already reloaded. The other warns the adventurer’s in a gruff voice, “Hands off your weapons! We’ve orders to take you alive, but my men are all eager for a little payback!”

Still sitting and partially obscured, Nalfos twists his fingers and whispers an incantation.

Both of the Redbrands start to swoon. The archer collapses into a deep slumber, but the leader shakes off the effects of the enchantment before it takes hold. “None of that mage! You’re surrounded!”

As he scolds them, a dozen Redbrand thugs stand from patches of tall grass along the edge of the camp. Their dirty red cloaks blending in quite well against the red clay soil of the rolling plains. Outnumbered, the adventurers surrender.

The rogue leader kicks his comrade awake before approaching the group. “Now then. You’re coming with us.”

Several of the Redbrands produce hoods and begin to throw them over each of their heads.

Ivandale panics. He quietly draws a dagger and slashes backward into the bandit behind him. The dagger grazes his captor’s belly.

“Son of a…” starts the injured Redbrand. He draws his sword and slashes across Ivandale’s back.

The blade cuts deep, but Ivandale twists to confront him.

As the elf squares off, the bandit leader grabs him from behind and drives the pommel of his sword into the base of Ivandale’s neck. Ivandale collapses and the dagger is kicked from his hand.

“I told you, there’s no point in fighting,” the leader laughs. He pulls the hood tight over Ivandale’s head and Straightens up. “Bind them up tight!” he yells, “Some of them think they’re stinking heroes.”

The sun shines through the weave of the hoods as they’re lead away from the campsite, stumbling blindly through the loose red clay.

9.3 A Wizard Duel

After marching for several hours, the procession comes to an abrupt stop. Each member of the party is knocked to their knees before the hoods are violently removed.

“In you go,” commands the leader, pointing to a colorful tent with the tip of his sword.

A tall red-robed human smiles at them as they enter. He gestures towards the edges of the tent with the tip of his crystalline staff. “Please, take a seat. You won’t be here long, but for now, you’re guests of Glasstaff,” he says with a grin and a mocking bow.

Tinkerella screws up her face and shouts, “You’re a real tough guy when our hands are tied! Is the cowardly wizard afraid of a fair fight?”

Glasstaff scowls at Tinkerella, “What do you know girl? Nothing!”

Ivandale scoffs, “Iarno, we came here looking for you. Sildar asked us to bring you back safely. He’s afraid you’d been captured.”

The wizard’s grin snaps into a concerned look. He turns to his henchmen, “All of you, leave. I’ll deal with these fools. It’s time for you to move on to the next step.”

“But, Glasstaff,” stammers the Redbrand leader. “They’re more trouble than they look. We should finish them off first.”

“Go,” the wizard says through a glowering scowl. “You have your orders.”

The leader nods and retreats with his henchmen.

He waits for the footsteps to fade out and turns to Ivandale, “You say Sildar sent you. What did he tell you?”

“He’s worried you’ve run too deeply into trouble. He suspects that your work has attracted too much attention.”

“Ha! My work! He knows nothing of my plans! He…”

“He discovered that you were nearly successful with your invisibility potion and he decided to act.” His bluff causes Glasstaff to stammer but, Ivandale confidently continues, “Troops are on their way from Waterdeep Iarno. Your plans have gotten out of control and will unravel. Return with us. If you cooperate, we’ll speak well on your behalf.

Nalfos smirks, “It’s time to turn yourself in, Glasstaff,” He overemphasizes the moniker with a laugh.

The insult isn’t lost on the wizard. He spins towards Nalfos and raises the staff. “Ha! You think your magic compares to mine! You can’t possibly understand the power I wield!” He relaxes and sweeps his arms wide in a theatrical gesture, “A duel then?”

Nalfos is briefly taken back, but he quickly regains his confidence. “Let me go and we’ll see who’s power is stronger!”

Glasstaff waves his hand and the knots binding Nalfos unravel and fall to the ground. Glasstaff immediately leaps upon him. The wizard’s hand crackles as sparks of electricity arc from his outstretched palm. Nalfos spins out of the way and retreats to the opposite edge of the tent.

Before Glasstaff is able to prepare a defense, Nalfos casts his first spell. The diamond spins between his palms and a fiery sphere leaps towards the wizard, colliding in a shower of sparks.

Glasstaff giggles as he inspects his charred robe. “A fine first foray, sorcerer. My next attack wont be so easily avoided.” He looks to his side at Valoric, “but first, let’s increase the stakes!” He looks the paladin in the eyes and traces a few glyphs in the air.

Valoric’s face goes slack and the ropes around his hands unknot themselves. Confused, Nalfos watches the paladin stand and approach Meza, hands outstretched. A mumbled incantation snaps his attention back to Glasstaff. Three glittering missiles launch from the wizard’s outstretched palm. Each of the enchanted projectiles weave through the air and strike Nalfos in the chest.

Meza struggles as Valoric closes his hands around her muscled neck. She strains in her bonds, attempting to break the thick cording around her wrists, but the ropes resist her efforts.

Nalfos shakes off the impact of the magic missiles with several throaty coughs. He wipes a bead of fresh blood from the edge of his lip and smirks. “Such petty tricks?”

Recommitting to the duel, he stands tall and yells, “You’ll need to do better!” He spreads his hands around the gem, conjuring two spinning balls of flame which leap into each of his palms. He thrusts his arms forward, releasing the spell quickly.

Glasstaff laughs as the balls of fire soar across the tent. The wizard holds the crystal staff out and the twisting flames are drawn into the crystal rod. The two spells puff and evaporate as they make contact with the staff.

Ivandale and Tinkerella both struggle to break up their struggling friends. Ivandale struggles unsuccessfully against the thick ropes. Tinkerella conjures her signature flame. She keeps the flame burning small and controlled and directs it to the ropes at her wrist. The flames lick at the ropes, slowly cutting through.

Glasstaff begins to panic as he realizes that he’s losing control of the adventurers and will soon be outnumbered. He casts another volley of magic missiles. They pepper Nalfos, sending him to a knee, but he quickly stands and releases a large gout of flame, catching the distracted wizard by surprise. Glasstaff is unable to raise a guard and the flame explodes across his robes. The impact causes him to stumble backward, wheezing.

The ropes around Tinkerella’s wrist snap free and she crawls over to Ivandale. “Tink! My boot! Grab my dagger!” A smile spreads across her face as she draws the hidden weapon from Ivandale’s boot. She makes short work of the rope with his sharp blade.

As the ropes fall loose from Ivandale’s wrist, he leaps and grabs Valoric from behind. He pulls the charmed paladin off of Meza and tosses him to the ground, breaking the enchantment.

Nalfos is hurt and unable to cast another spell. Tinkerella begins a small incantation and flings a leaf in the air. She releases the final phrase with a breath and the leaf twists in the air, carrying the restorative magic twirling towards Nalfos.

Glasstaff quickly bats the spell from the air with his staff. “Enough! This was to be a fair duel!” He grabs Nalfos by the front of his robes, causing Nalfos to cough up a gurgle of blood. “Do you yield!?”

Nalfos submits, “I yield.”

9.4 Confusing Turns

Glasstaff smiles warmly and releases Nalfos, gently brushing the blood from Nalfos’ lips. He takes a step back and passes the crystal staff to Nalfos with a wink. “This is yours now. You’ve earned it.”

Nalfos looks at the wizard in confusion, but snatches the staff before it tips. Perplexed, he examines the once radiant staff. It’s appearance dulls and grows cold in his hands. He returns his gaze to the wizard with a look that demands an explanation.

Iarno continues to smile warmly, “As your friend stated earlier, it’s in my best interest to return with you.” His eyes seem to penetrate Nalfos and Iarno’s voice echoes within Nalfos’s mind, “I know who you are. You’ve done well for yourself.”

Tinkerella tends to the pinkish bruises blooming on Meza’s neck, but the barbarian brushes her friend away, “I’m fine Tink!”

Ivandale pulls Valoric from the ground. Valoric thanks the elf and brushes himself off. He takes in the sight of Nalfos holding the crystal staff. “All right wizard. Enough games. Lead us back to our camp and then we’re off to Phandalin. Sildar will have a warm cell prepared for you.”

Iarno tosses a wink over his shoulder to Ivandale. “I’m sure he has,” he says through a side smile.

The unexpected response surprises Ivandale. He stops for a moment, but then gives the wizard a shove, “Lead the way.”

They stride through the plains for an hour. The return trip is considerably smoother without bonds and blindfolds.

They arrive at their campsite and begin to collect their equipment. Droop steps groggily out of Valoric’s tent and yawns loudly into the midmorning sun. He smiles as he fishes a piece of jerky from his pockets. A snicker causes him to freeze before he takes a bite.

“You kept the useless goblin?” Iarno laughs, “I would have just killed him.”

“We’ve no interest in your opinion,” replies Valoric. He playfully pats Droop’s head before collapsing his tent.

Nalfos is the first to finish packing. He trudges up to Iarno, still confused by his change of heart. Iarno smiles and then telepathically asks, “You don’t understand? Just accept the gift. Become the wielder of the Glasstaff. You’ll do great things with it. I’m not it’s true owner.”

Ivandale stands and settles his pack. He notices the two spell casters locked in confrontation. “Let’s go, wizard.”

Iarno recovers quickly and smiles, “I didn’t peg you for the jealous type.”

“Daylight’s burning. It’s time to go,” Ivandale replies. He ties a rope around Iarno’s hands and leads the group south, over the Triboar Trail and onto the winding road to Phandalin.

“Who’s this ‘Black Spider’ Iarno?”

“The Black Spider?” Iarno repeats with a smile. “Just some local muscle. An elf I’ve helped in exchange for his services. The Redbrands are useful, but they’re a blunt tool. Sometimes I require a more surgical solution.”

They return to the village of Phandalin as the sun starts to set. The town is quiet and the streets are empty as they march Iarno into the Townmaster’s Hall. Sildar follows them in and shoves Ivandale to the side. Iarno turns just in time to catch Sildar’s right hook in the chin. “You’ll hang for your crimes against the Lord’s Alliance!”

Iarno groans and brings his bound hands up to rub the spot. “Nice to see you too, lover.”

Sildar grabs the rope and shoves Iarno backwards into a cell, slamming the door shut with a violent ‘clang!’

“Have you realized why he sent you after me? The real reason!?”

Sildar turns his back on the cell and opens his mouth to explain, but stops and shifts his feet uneasily.

Iarno grabs the bars, “He’s mad about me. We’re star-crossed lovers,” he mimes a swoon. “When you told me he’d sent you after me, I knew the truth. He’s not concerned about my research. He was afraid that he lost me!”

“You’re in jail for charges of treason Iarno. If I were you, I’d save your words for the judge.”

“Jail? Ha! My plans proceed. You’re in my prison now!” He turns to Nalfos, “The Black Spider is in Cragmaw Castle. Keep my staff safe.”

Valoric nudges Nalfos and leads the group out through the front door. “We should check in with Daran,” the paladin states. “Then stay a night in the inn. We’ve earned a rest in warm beds.”

At his orchard, Daran is talking with Trilena, the inn keeper’s wife. He waves to the group and she turns and smiles, also waving to the group. Droop pokes his head out from Valric’s pack, causing them both to jump.

Daran laughs out loud and claps Trilena on the back. “Was the goblin helpful?”

Tinkerella shakes her head, “He helped, but I’m not sure I’d say he was helpful.”

Trilena smiles and gives a slight bow, “Will you be staying at the inn tonight?”

Meza smiles, “If you’ve ale, we’ll join you shortly!”

“We’ve plenty of ale, I’ll prepare some beds!”

She waves goodbye to the group and Daran approaches Ivan. He clutches an envelope in his outstretched hand. “This came earlier today. Trilena knew you’d bunked here a few times and figured you might be back here first.”

Ivandale examines the envelope. It’s addressed to him, courtesy of the Stonehill Inn. The Rangers of Red Larch seal is impressed upon the unbroken wax seal. Ivandale opens the envelope, and withdraws the letter inside. He reads it twice before handing it to Tinkerella.

“We’ve been called back. There’s trouble with a rival group and we’re needed immediately.”

The adventurers retreat to the inn. Their joyous return marred by the news. Tinkerella and Ivandale join them for one last feast.