Arrived back in Phandalin this afternoon. Tegan gave the village luckslut the trivial banshee gossip she so desperately desired, and the foolish wench handed over three potions of healing in return, thanks be to Beshaba.
Then, flaccid Townmaster Harbin presented us with a coffer of 100gp for exterminating the orc menace at Wyvern Tor.
We told the nosy do-gooder Edermath what we discovered at Old Owl Well, not that it was particularly any of his business, and he grudgingly thanked us for our trouble, but offered nothing in return. I’ll remember that, the next time he needs a favour, I’ll kindly offer him a large helping of go-fuck-yourself.
Tegan eagerly performed his new ballad of our adventures for the handful of day-drunks at the Stonehill Inn, but a crack in his lyre made the notes so discordant that the churlish drunks began to hoot along like owlbears, and Tegan ran from the inn, humiliated. While he was out, I fixed his cracked instrument with a simple cantrip, blessings of Beshaba, and after dinner, we cajoled Ramigil into giving another performance, this time to a full house… and a standing ovation. The heart of the song was about my sorcery, which was very flattering.
Our reputation for triumph grows, in Beshaba’s name, klaatu barada nikto amen.