Tunwéya and Ogodrok investigated the Woodcutter’s house for clues to learn more about his murder. In a small outdoor sawmill they found a dead body, its throat slit and face mutilated. Tunwéya deduced had been there for less than 10 hours. Nearby they found a set of dwarven size clothes, leather armour and a bloodstained dagger. They searched the house and found it had not been lived in for at least a tenday. Ogodrok found a tree stump box hidden under the bed. Inside he found a stash of coins which Tunwéya took.

Darry and Hinnerk asked around trying to find out which house belonged to the townmaster. Once they located the house Darry scouted it out and Hinnerk kept watch. Darry found that someone was in the kitchen cooking so did his best to avoid their attention and kept away from that room. He broke in through a window and found himself in a study. He sprung a lock on a desk and read three letters. He left the letters but took two stones that had hands carved into them. He moved through the house into the bedroom. Under a rug, under a floorboard he triggered a needle trap but managed to resist the worst of the poison effects due to his stout resistance. He took the box from under the floor and left the house. Back in the tavern the party met up and discussed their next move. They retired to a private room and opened the box Darry had found. Inside were 5gp and a note in the Townmaster’s handwriting that said “The Gods may not be watching you but I am.”

The party went to the Sleeping Giant Inn where a Redbrand lieutenant Florina asked the party to kill Daran Edermath in order to prove themselves to the Redbrands. They asked for one of the Redbrand’s distinctive capes to leave on the corpse. Instead of carrying out the request, Darry went to Edermath to persuade him to leave town for 24 hours while the party faked his death. The rest of the party went to the Woodcutter’s and retrieved the corpse they had found there earlier. They cut off its ears so it would not obvious it was a human and not a half elf. Hinnerk also used his butchering skills to wrap the head up like a ham to stop any bits falling out.

Edermath agreed to the plan, collected his things and left. The party dressed the corpse in Edermath’s clothes, draped the Redbrand cloak around it and strung it up from an apple tree. They returned to the Redbrands and once it was confirmed the job had been done, the party were directed to Tresendar Manor, the secret hideout of the Redbrands. When they arrived, the wizard Glasstaff tasked them with killing Sildar publically and offered 1000gp for the job. The party were sceptical about the job but agreed to it.

---

Additional context courtesy of Campaigns in Parallel:

At roughly the same time, two different groups, The Eldonberries and The Levellers played through the D&D adventure:  The Lost Mines of Phandelver.   The same Dungeon Master guided the chaos as best he could.  Here are their stories, laid out session by session showing the similar experiences, the unique paths and the common madness they all endured. 

The session notes have been processed by AI to create a more exciting narrative. 

Tunwéya and Og, their hearts heavy with the grim task at hand, ventured to the woodcutter’s cottage. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare: a mutilated corpse in the sawmill, its throat slit, its face a gruesome mask of violence. A trail of blood led them to a hidden stash of coins and a set of bloodstained dwarven clothes. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, a grim reminder of the darkness lurking beneath Phandalin’s peaceful facade.

Back in town, Darry and Hinnerk, their faces hidden in the shadows, stalked the streets, seeking the Townmaster’s house. Darry, his nimble fingers working their magic, slipped through a window and into a dimly lit study, his eyes scanning the room for anything of value. He found a locked desk and, with a practiced twist of his tools, popped it open. A stack of letters, filled with cryptic messages and veiled threats, revealed the Townmaster’s eagerness to deal with the Orc threat in the vicinity, despite Lord Neverember’s refusal to send aid. A letter from the Lord’s Alliance confirmed the dispatch of the wizard Iarno Albrek. However, the Townmaster’s own letter, addressed to his sister, boasted of his own plans to handle the Orcs, hinting at a secret arrangement and a desire for personal gain rather than the safety of Phandalin.

In the bedroom, a hidden trap sprung beneath Darry’s feet, a single poisoned needle piercing his skin. He hissed in pain, but his halfling resilience allowed him to resist the worst of the effects. He snatched a locked box from beneath the floorboards and vanished back into the night.

Reunited at the Stonehill Inn, the adventurers gathered in a private room, their faces grim as they examined the contents of Darry’s stolen box. A mere five gold pieces and a note, scrawled in the Townmaster’s hand, mocked their efforts: “The gods may not be watching you, but I am.”

The party’s destination was now clear: the Sleeping Giant Taphouse, the heart of the Redbrands’ operation. Florina, the scarred lieutenant, greeted them with a predatory grin, her eyes raking over them with undisguised contempt.

“So, you think you’re tough enough to join the Redbrands?” she sneered. “Prove it. Kill the half-elf, Daran Edermath, and leave one of our capes on his corpse. That’ll show us you’re not just a bunch of spineless whelps.”

But Darry, ever the schemer, had a different plan. He sought out Edermath, convincing the orchard owner to cooperate. Faking his death was a risky proposition, but Edermath, eager to escape the Redbrands’ harassment, agreed to the plan. However, there was a complication: Edermath is a half-elf, with pointed ears. The corpse they found at the woodcutter’s cottage, however, was human. To make the deception more believable, Darry resorted to a grim act. With a heavy heart and a promise of future recompense to Edermath, they cut off the corpse’s ears, hoping the Redbrands wouldn’t notice the difference in the dimly lit tavern.

The ruse worked, and the Redbrands, satisfied with their “proof,” directed the party to Tresendar Manor. There, in the dimly lit halls of the ruined estate, they met Glasstaff, the Redbrands’ enigmatic leader.

“I have a job for you,” Glasstaff purred, his voice smooth as silk. “Kill Sildar Hallwinter. In public. Make it a spectacle. And I’ll reward you handsomely.”

The adventurers exchanged uneasy glances. This was a dangerous game they were playing, a dance with devils in the heart of darkness. But the lure of gold and the chance to strike a blow against the Redbrands was too tempting to resist. With grim determination, they accepted the task, their fate entwined with the dark forces that held Phandalin in its grasp.