Lost Mine on the Frontier

On the Road to Phandalin

The party, while frequenting their usual watering hole, was approached by their acquaintance and drinking buddy, Gundren Rockseeker, to safeguard his load of provisions to the town of Phandalin. They accepted a fee of 10GP each for the safe delivery of the wagon to Barthen’s Provisions in Phandalin.

In the morning, the wagon and driver, Grant, arrived to pick the party up.

An uneventful days journey left the party camping that night along the High Road. During the last watch of the night, party spied a menacing figure in the pre-dawn mist and called out to it. It turns out Grant had slipped past them and was relieving himself in the pre-dawn light. After breakfast, the party mounted the wagon for the rest of the journey.

After a few hours on the Triboar trail, the party encountered some dead horses with many arrows in them. Neoninja moved up the road only to be ambushed by a group of foul goblins. She took several arrows to the body and dropped in the road. After a bit of a struggle and setting several trees on fire, the last goblin raced off to the West.

Investigating the horses, they concluded the animals belonged to their patron, Gundren Rockseeker and his companion/body guard Sildar Hallwinter. Blood was everywhere but no other bodies were found. Also nothing of any value. They did, however, find an empty map case…


You’ve been here for months, picking up some work here and there. You were drawn to the large city on the Northern Sword Coast by its promise of adventure and wealth. Sadly, your intermittent work only provides a little silver and that only buys so many drinks and poor lodging in the common room of the Whale’s Blow Hole, your inn of choice.

The Blow Hole is not up-market but at least it’s not squalid. The drinks are only a little watery and the proprietor doesn’t steal your purse when you pass out at your table. Mind you, there’s nothing to steal any more. The silver coin you place on the bar is your last and yields a mug of ale and a few coppers change. That won’t even pay for a space sleeping on the floor of the inn. Maybe the stables?

Back at your table, you and your friends (well, drinking buddies, really) are joined by the red-haired dwarf, Gundren Rockseeker. In the past, he has stood everyone here a few rounds and is well liked. This afternoon he is boasting about the riches he and his brothers are soon about to reap.

“It’s just a matter of time, lads! But we must be careful, no? Can’t say no more, even to trustworthy folk such as yourselves! But we’ve found it… aye, we have! The Wave Echo Cave. Our people’s birthright. Me and me brothers will bring back the glory days of the Blackstone Clan!”

He goes on about the days when his clan ruled Illefarn and were paid tribute from kingdoms all around. You tune him out for a bit but your ears perk up at the offer of some work.

“I need some dependable folk such as yourselves to escort a wagon of goods to Phandalin for me. I’d do it myself but the provisions won’t be ready until tomorrow and Sildar and I must make haste.” He gestures to his companion, a large quiet warrior you’ve met before. “I’ve 10 gold a piece for you if you see the wagon to Barthen’s Provisions in Phandalin. And, here, this should buy a few rounds for tonight. But not too many! I need you sharp eyed tomorrow. My man, Grant, will bring the wagon here in the morning.”

He throws a few gold coins on the table and he and Sildar take their leave. It should be enough to keep you out of the stables tonight… unless you drink a lot. Mind you, you probably won’t care about sleeping with the horses at that point.


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