Nashkel

The contingent's officer steps onto the bridge, which creaks under the weight of the ornate plate armor he's wearing.

He eyes the party's adventuring garb. "I am Major Bardolan. If you're seeking to resolve troubles, welcome. If you're here to cause them, kindly take it elsewhere." His tone is firm, but his eyes are steel. "Which will it be?"

"Resolve problems?" Dieter speaks up "what problems do you have that need solving?"

Major Bardolan fixes his gaze on Dieter. "Here to help, and you don't what for?" He shakes his head. "I guess I can't expect the folk around Baldur's Gate to be properly informed of things." There's a clank of plate armor as he shrugs. "But if you're determined, seek out Mayor Ghastkill. He'll brief you on the things that need doing."

"We're not from Baldur's Gate, so we're really out of touch," Aiwë says cheerfully. "We're here to change that, and be useful. Anything else you need from us, before we go, Major?"

The officer shakes his head. "You can be on your way. You'll most likely find the mayor at his cabin, there. It's the only one with two stories."

He steps aside to let the party cross the small bridge. His fellows stand at sharp attention. These are no mercenaries, but true soldiers.

Aiwë nods with respect, feeling oddly comforted by their crisp stance. As they walk to the mayor's house, the beat she plays on her drum is a crisp military march she learned from a southern deserter.

The mayor's cabin is easy to find; it's not as though there are many houses here.

The man who answers the door doesn't look the political type. His weathered face and windswept hair speak of a man oft found outdoors, and his coat of chainmail is a simple affair. From his bearing, however, it's obvious this is a leader confident in his authority.

He adjusts the longbow on his shoulder; clearly, he was on his way out anyway when the party knocked. "Well met!" he offers with a smile. The greeting seems friendly enough, but it doesn't quite reach is eyes. Not in an impersonal way, but in a manner that seems to be withholding true judgment of the party until enough evidence about their intentions is collected. "Mayor Berrun Ghastkill, at your service. What brings you all to Nashkel?"

it’s a little odd the "major" has such fancy armour for such a small town. Having elaborate armour is usually a trait for someone rich and or connected to a very talented smith. I think sheemish would want to meet him, I as well. Dieter determines to investigate this further. I don’t think this man is a liar or a pomp. If he is a major there should be more professional soldiers around… where are they? Wait I think Aiwë is going to say something I should pay attention"

The frontier town feels comfortable to Aiwë. This town might be one of Icewind Dale's Ten, were it not for the grass, and warm air.

At the mayor's greeting she thumps her heart with her fist in the orcish way, then slides into a fluid elvish bow immediately after.

"Hail! I am Aiwë Blacksheaf of the Cagebreakers. Most of my friends and I are from very far north and so the news of this Iron Crisis shocked us. We're capable folks, and are looking for something to do, so we came to offer services. Is there anything we can assist with, my lord?"

Ghastkill cocks his head and regards Aiwe and the others for a short moment, then strides out of his home. "Walk with me, please."

"You'll quickly find that for so small a town, we have more than our share of problems." As he makes his way down the dirt street, he tosses his head toward the Amnian soldiers. "I wish there were more around of them to help. Since their... change in leadership, these ones have been more occupied with putting up a show of force against Baldur's Gate than do anything truly useful. I suppose they do defend us against the bandits. And gnolls! I've seen more than a few of their ilk skulking about. They don't usually hunt this far east."

The mayor greets other townsfolk as they walk, briefly introducing the companions. He never lets them stay too long in one spot, however. He seems to be a man who sees little point in idle chatter. Still, he appears to be going out of his way to make the party's presence known in the town.

"But our biggest problems involve the mine." He leads the party a short way out of town to the south, following a well-tread path that circles around the base of one of the towering mountains. "It barely operates now, and what ore we do get is tainted somehow. Workers have been going missing in there, feeding the rumors of devils inhabiting the lower levels." He makes a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. "I've had a look myself and seen nothing, but that matters little; anything could be hiding down there in the dark. But maybe you'll find something I didn't."

They round a crag and Ghastkill gestures to several pavilions clustered by gaping hole in the cliff face. It almost looks like the mouth of some beast of stone, ready to gobble any who dare draw close. "That's the place. The sooner you get in there and find out what's going on, the better, but I understand if you need some rest and a good meal before that."

Dieter nods his head "we would be pleased to help. But we are of course with our own needs…our Needs" he uses a dwarven word with many uses such as feeding a smelter, stocking a wood stove, or an annual expense report.

"As long as workers haven't been going missing when they aren't in there, then I think rest and food will let us do the job better," Aiwë confirms. "We understand the haste, and will investigate as quickly as possible."

At the mention of bandits, Stella flips open her tome to review some notes. Stella raises an eyebrow at the unfamiliar dwarven word Dieter uses, and nods in agreement with Aiwe, then speaks up when she has a chance.

"Mayor Ghastkill, do the names The Chill, Blacktalons, or Taurgosz mean anything to you? Names we've heard on our way here, without knowing much about them," she explains.

Ghastkill nods, and there's more than a hint of weariness in his eyes. "If you're as skilled as you say you are and get the job done, I imagine you'll have the gratitude of the entire Sword Coast. But of course, gratitude doesn't fill hungry bellies." He nods. "You'll get your compensation... when the mine is cleared of any threat."
"Missing? No, I'm afraid none have gone missing other than in the mine. There was a family slaughtered, but that's a different matter." He fingers the bow slung over his shoulder. ""I'll be investigating that matter myself while you're in the mine."
The mayor frowns at the names. "They sound ominous. Organizations of some kind, perhaps led by this Taurgosz? I'm afraid I know nothing of them."

Aiwë looks at the mayor with alarm. "There was a family, what? What happened? Do you expect it to recur?"

Ghastkill's jaw tightens. "A respected member of the community went mad, murdered his wife and children, then fled into the wilds. As far gone as he seems to be, I don't expect him to return. In fact, I intend to find him and make sure he doesn't."

Stella nods at his guess about the names.

When he describes that someone went mad and murderous, Stella's eyes widen with disgust, then narrow. "Does he happen to look like this? Or this?" She prestidigitates the images of Montaron then Xzar. She then recreates the illusion trying to give them cleaner and less manic expressions.

The mayor squints at the images. "Certainly not. Should I know either of these two?"

He seems to stiffen under the additional questions. Perhaps this crazy, 'respected member of the community' was someone close to him. A friend? Family?

"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if you did." She dismisses the image with a wave. "We met them in the wilderness, and they seemed various degrees of..." she puts a finger to her lip and tilts her head. "...unstable. They said they were planning to investigate the Iron Crisis here as well. They showed no ill will to us, though, as far as I remember. Thank you for your time and may the stars guide your way." She curtsies respectfully.