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Asbjorn, Teejak, Ash, and Daran returned safely to Phandalin and were greeted in the Stone Hill Inn by Kyron, who had returned several days earlier from conducting business in Wave Echo Cave.

“My friends, I have information from the library in the Forge of Spells that may help us slay the aboleth,” Kyron announced, “There is an item known as the lens of Truesight that may help us to counter the psychic threat posed by the aboleth. It was originally constructed by the elves of Illefarn for use in their battle against the aboleths.”

Asbjorn nodded, remembering how he had nearly been deceived into sacrificing himself when the aboleth created an illusion of his beloved Quelline drowning.

“Furthermore, I have concerns about our plan to hire a small army to combat the creature,” Kyron continued, “the dwarves that originally excavated wave echo cave tried sending a small army against the aboleth; however, most of them were mind-controlled by the beast and compelled to fight against their allies.”

“Can’t we just collapse that part of the cavern?” asked Ash.

“Speaking of that…” Kyron interjected, “the subterranean lake we discovered appears to be a rich source of ‘celestite,’ the magical mineral that powers the Forge of Spells. The dwarves of Wave Echo Cave endeavored to build a secondary forge by excavating the richer celestite deposits located in the lake, but the aboleth slaughtered or enslaved all who attempted to traverse the lake. And so, the human and gnome spellcasters of Wave Echo cave established a magical barrier to protect the mine from the creature and to prevent it from ever accessing the technology that they had developed to imbue weapons with arcane energy from celestite.

“That would be… bad,” said Ash.

“So how the hell did it attack us?” asked Asbjorn.

“It is likely that any magical enchantments put in place were disrupted by the fierce spell battle that destroyed much of the mine,” replied Kyron.

“Great…” sighed Ash.

“Were you able to collect any of this ‘celestite’?” asked Asbjorn.

Kyron pulled out a leather bag and opened it to show the contents to the party. Inside the bag was what appeared to be black tar.

“I thought this was a mineral?” asked Ash.

“It is,” replied Kyron, “but it can be melted by either extreme heat or by casting dispel magic on it.”

“And it never reverts to a solid after cooling?” asked Ash

“Not that I have observed, it also loses the magical aura that the solid form has when it has been melted.”

“Why did you not collect a solid sample?”

“I mined several solid ingots from the cavern the Forge of Spells was built in. However, the ingots, when separated from the cavern walls, have an interesting property that was also documented by the dwarves of Wave Echo Cave.”

“What is it?”

“The ingots seem to move on their own… to teleport about randomly… but only when no one is actively observing them. As you can imagine this makes transporting them impossible. The dwarves who originally built the mine hypothesized that all of the celestite present in the mountain is part of one enormous single celestite crystal that branches out from a point near the center of the underground lake. When an ingot is separated from this network is assumes this bizarre property.”

“And this teleporting property is lost when the mineral is melted either by extreme heat or dispel magic?”

“Correct. The teleporting property is also lost when a celestite ingot is placed on the Forge of Spells”

“…Because the Forge of Spells basically links whatever objects are placed on it with the celestite network… that’s how it creates magic items!” hypothesized Asbjorn.

“How do you know all of this?” asked Teejak.

Kyron pulled a 1000 page tome out of his pack and dropped it onto the table.

“Yeah… I’ll take your word on this stuff,” replied Teejak.

“The Lens of Truesight is mentioned in the personal journal of one Captain Jetrel,” said Kyron as he pulled out a small leather-bound journal, “He appears to have been a dwarven military leader, tasked with the defense of Wave Echo cave. He led an adventuring party to the ruins of Illefarn in hopes of recovering the artifact but mysteriously disappeared while exploring the ruins.”

“Where are these ruins?” asked Asbjorn.

“Jetrel’s journal provides rough directions but not an exact map. They appear to be on the southeastern slopes of the mountain. The dwarves documented that a secondary exit from the underground lake leads to the ruins.”

“Likely the same exit that was marked on the map in the wraith’s lair,” surmised Asbjorn as he began paging through Jetrel’s journal.

“I have one more piece of news to share,” Kyron continued, “as I was leaving the mine, I encountered a small battalion of goblins, hobgoblins, and bugbears headed in the direction of Wave Echo Cave. The markings on their armor matched those of the Cragmaw tribe.”

“I guess they must be interested in some more deathspore mushrooms!” declared Teejak.

“So… how has your week been?” asked Kyron.

“We killed a necromancer and a raided an orc den!” exclaimed Teejak, “we also discovered a particularly devastating spell combo we can now abuse.”

“Nice.”

“So.. are we going to Neverwinter to recruit some casters to help us fight this thing?” said Ash.

“I’m concerned any hired help we obtain would simply be mind-controlled and turned against us,” replied Teejak.

“We don’t need an army,” said Ash, “perhaps a single powerful spellcaster with the intelligence to see through the aboleth’s illusions. Do you know anything about this ‘Illefarn’?”

“Well it was the password to get past the skeletons in Tresendar manor,” replied Teejak.

“Anything else?”

“Just what you all know, that it was an ancient elf civilization that covered the Sword Coast until they were displaced by the Netherese empire.”

“Figured a pompous elf might know a little bit more than that,” mocked Ash.

“Pompous!” Teejak replied angrily.

“Friends!” interjected Asbjorn, “I think our next step should be to travel to Neverwinter. There we can purchase more magical items, we can inquire about Illefarn and the Lens of Truesight, and we can hire additional magical help for our quest to slay the aboleth. I recommend we leave first thing in the morning.”

“Let’s do it,” the group replied in unison.

Teejak rushed forward to be the first party member to search the necromancer, Hamun “the coaster” Kost’s, corpse, but Ash beat him to it.

“Anyone want a ring of protection?” asked the ranger.

“When you’re as nimble as I am, you have no need for such protection,” boasted Teejak.

“I am already protected by the luck of Ozrikotep… and this magic armor,” replied Asbjorn, “keep it for yourself.”

The group then proceeded to search the necromancer’s tent and discovered a healing potion and spell scroll.

“What was this guy looking for here in the first place?” asked Ash.

“I believe he said he wanted to ask a question of the banshee that lives near here,” replied Asbjorn.

“Didn’t Gayjon mention something about a banshee after talking to one of the townsfolk in Phandalin?” asked Teejak.

“He did…” said Asbjorn, “If we rest, I could pray to Ozrikotep for the ability to communicate with Gayjon back in town.”

“My friends,” Daran Edermath, who was still completely covered in zombie paste from the meat-grinder, spoke up, “You seem to have some skill in combat… might I ask that you do our town another favor and deal with the orcs that have been raiding our trading caravans near Wyvern Tor?”

“Fuck it,” said Ash, “let’s kill some orcs.”

From one of the nearby hilltops Daran pointed out the prominent crag of Wyvern Tor.

“The tor was formerly the home of a large and dangerous nest of wyverns, but a band of adventurers such as yourselves dealt with the monsters years ago,” said Daran.

With the crag as a landmark, Asbjorn was easily able to navigate the group to Wyvern Tor, where Ash began searching the area for tracks. Within a matter of minutes, the ranger had located fresh orc tracks. With the help of Arcanine’s nose, the group was able to follow the tracks down into a narrow canyon. After a half mile or so, the tracks turned abruptly into a cave opening in the side of the canyon.

“I’ll take a look up ahead, let’s not create any random thunder noises this time, ok?” said Teejak, looking directly at Asbjorn.

Teejak returned moments later, moving so silently he nearly startled Asbjorn.

“So there’s a fucking troll asleep up there,” reported Teejak.

“How big is it?” asked Ash.

Teejak pointed up at the ceiling, roughly 10ft up.

“About that high.”

“Seems wrong to kill someone in their sleep,” said Asbjorn.

“It’s not a someone, it’s a something,” replied Teejak, “I’ve seen these things bite a man’s head off.”

“In that case we better drink up,” said Asbjorn as he began pouring four pints of Sloppy Joe’s special brew, “do you think you could tie up his legs?”

“It’s worth a shot,” said Teejak.

“I’ll get in position and ready an arrow in case he wakes up,” said Ash.

Teejak moved up to the troll and prepared the rope. The rogue’s hands had proven fast enough to pickpocket inn keeps, to disarm enemies, to trip bugbears over the sides of cliffs! But they failed him this time… As Teejak was beginning to tie the knot he knocked loose a small rock that landed right on the trolls toe. The creature roared as it awoke and immediately detected Teejak’s scent.

“Oh shit.”

As the troll was standing to its feet one of Ash’s arrows struck its chest; however, the arrow barely pierced the troll’s thick hide and only served to anger the beast. As the troll shifted its bulk Teejak was briefly able to see deeper into the cavern and caught sight of several orcs beginning to mobilize.

“Fuck! There’s orcs right around the corner up arghhhhhhhh!!!!”

As Teejak attempted to warn his companions the troll took a massive bite out of his right shoulder. Ash and Asbjorn looked at one another.

“Meat grinder?” asked Ash.

“Meat grinder!” declared Asbjorn.

Ash raised his arms and once again summoned spiked thorns from the ground in the den of orcs, placing the spell so as to block the orcs movement through the natural chokepoint. Asbjorn prayed to Ozrikotep and encircled himself with angelic beer babies for protection. Immediately, the adventurers could hear pained screams and howls from the orcs deeper in the cave as they unwittingly entered Ash’s spiked growth spell.

“Stay back!” yelled one of the orcs, presumably their leader, “stay out of the spell!!!”

Another of Ash’s arrows struck the troll directly in its face, allowing Teejak to safely disengage.

“Begone from here magic users!” yelled the orc leader, “we don’t take kindly to spellcasting types around here.”

“We heard that you’ve been terrorizing folk around these parts!” shouted Ash.

“You’re goddamn right we have!” replied the orc leader, “you’d be wise to leave us be!”

“We are team America dungeon police!” yelled Asbjorn, “put down your weapons and surrender!”

“Why don’t you come in here and make us!” exclaimed the orc.

“Fuck you bitch!” shouted Teejak, “why don’t you come out here and face us!”

“We may not be the smartest creatures…” said the orc, “but we know better than to walk into spells! So, fuck you too!”

“I guess what we’ve got here is an old Phandelver standoff…” replied Teejak.

The troll pulled the arrow out of its face. Immediately, the serious wound inflicted by Ash’s arrow began to seal up on its own. The creature then charged toward Asbjorn, tearing its flesh apart on the spiked grown before being assaulted by Asbjorn’s beer baby spirit guardians. The troll roared as it finally reached its target before bringing both of its claws down on Asbjorn; however, the dwarf raised his holy shield and completely negated the powerful strike. Teejak then slid directly under the troll and sliced open its Achilles tendon with his dagger, “sylvenom,” causing the troll to stumble a bit before falling onto its back. Teejak followed up by plunging his second dagger “Isa’s vengeance” right into the troll’s throat.

“Come to us you cowards!” yelled the orcs from within their den.

“We’re on our way!” shouted Ash.

“We’re just gonna kill this troll first,” yelled Asbjorn.

“I’m gonna wear this troll’s fuckin skin when I come in there to kill all of you!” exclaimed Teejak.

“Drop your spell and see what happens!” shouted the orc leader.

“Your troll friend is gonna die if you don’t come out and help him!”

“He’s not our friend!”

Asbjorn looked down at the troll on its back, “you hear that! They aren’t your friends! You want to be our friend?”

The troll was clearly choking on its own blood and unable to respond.

“Arcanine!” yelled Ash, “rip his throat out!”

Arcanine immediately pounced on the fallen troll and proceeded to maul its face. The troll shoved Arcanine off and slowly stood to its feet as it was continually assaulted by the angelic beer babies surrounding Asbjorn.

“Troll!” yelled the orc leader, “bring him to us!”

The troll grabbed Asbjorn’s upper arm and began dragging him into the orc den.

“I’m not trapped with you, troll!” yelled Asbjorn, “you’re trapped with me!”

Lightbringer glowed bright as daylight as Asbjorn brought it down and shattered the troll’s kneecap. Simultaneously, the cleric summoned a spiritual hammer which cracked the beast’s skull open. The angelic beer babies continued their assault as the spiked growth slowly tore the troll’s flesh apart. Ash filled the creature with arrows like a pin cushion while Teejak carved it apart with his dual daggers. Despite all of this, miraculously, the troll still stood.

“Bring him! Bring him!” the orcs chanted as the troll slowly but steadily dragged Asbjorn deeper into their den.

Despite the incredible damage Team America had done, the troll still lived. In only moments Asbjorn would be surrounded by foes in the den of orcs. In this moment, the cleric prayed to Ozrikotep for guidance. In response, Asbjorn flashed back to a time before his clan had been poisoned. He remembered drinking beer with several friends while one of them regaled the group with the story of how he had recently slain a troll.

“And don’t forget lads…” his friend had said, “you’ve got to finish them off by burning them to death or they will just continually regenerate!”

“BURN IT!!!” exclaimed Asbjorn! “BURN IT!!!”

With that, Teejak ignited a torch and threw it at the troll’s back. The creature immediately ignited in flame as the cavern filled the stench of charred flesh. Asbjorn easily pulled free as the troll’s arm detached from its charred body.

“You all are fucked now!” shouted Teejak as Team America pushed onward, into the den.

Ash peeked around the corner of the den entrance and began deftly picking the orcs off one at a time with precise headshots from the bow of the goblin slayer.

“Take cover you fools!” yelled the orc leader.

As the orcs began scrambling for cover, Asbjorn called forth Ozrikotep’s sacred flame and incinerated one as it fled. Teejak used the boots of striding and springing to vault himself over Ash’s spiked growth and stabbed another orc in the back as it fled.

“Surround the rogue!” shouted the orc leader, “focus him down!”

Immediately, several orcs surrounded Teejak and began beating him down with their greataxes. Things were looking rough for the elf as another orc raised its greateaxe to strike; however, before the creature could attack, one of Ash’s arrows pierced its skull.

“Prepare to face the wrath of Brughor Axe-biter!” shouted the orc leader as it engaged Asbjorn, despite the angelic beer babies assaulting him.

“Yeah. You look like a real pillow-biter!” shouted Asbjorn as he landed a blow with lightbringer.

“Brughor Axe-biter will not go down that easily!”

“You’re gonna die in six seconds dude,” replied Asbjorn.

Across the den, Teejak dispatched another orc by slicing its throat open and then kicking its head off.

“I told you not to fuck with us!”

“Time’s up!” said Asbjorn.

“Wha…” the orc leader began to reply but before he could finish Ash’s arrow pierced his brain through his left eye socket. Brughor Axe-biter’s corpse collapsed into the campfire in the center of the den and ignited into flame. The battle was won.

After tending to their wounds and raiding the orc den, Team America began the journey back to Phandalin to reunite with the rest of their party.

As the party stops to rest for the night, Teejak notices an old woman approaching the fire
The woman has a stooped back and walks with the aid of a cane. She shuffles along slowly.
"You there! Halt! Why do you approach?" Teejak challenged

"I'm just a weary traveler, seeking a bit of warmth and rest. Might I sit by your fire young man?"

"Get out of here old lady" said Ash

"Surely you won't turn an old woman away in the dark night?"

Teejak, sick of the conversation, pulls a burning log from the fire and sets it next to the old woman

"You can stay until that goes out then move along"

"Why thank you young man"

The woman awkwardly sits on the ground and pulls from her bag a giant deck of cards held together with twine. There must be at least 500 hundred cards in the deck.

The old woman begins slowly shuffling the cards, face down, into 12 piles. It seems it would take all night for her to lay out the whole deck.

However, as the party watches, the old woman's hands seem to speed up just a bit.

"The cause shall be the effect and the effect shall be the cause" she cackles.

Now the old woman's hands are dealing the cards much faster, like a professional dealer.

"The cause shall be the effect and the effect shall be the cause" she cackles

The old woman's hands are now moving too fast to be seen. The cards seem to fly into each pile as if of their own will. Although she had only laid out half the deck over several minutes, the remaining half is dealt in seconds.

"Pick up a deck" she indicates to the piles.

"Im not getting involved in your insanity old woman" said Asbjorn

Teejak walks over and picks up a deck. The old woman instructs him to throw the top card into the fire and draw the second card, which he does.
He turns the card over and shows the old woman. The card shows an extremely vivid illustration of a great stag deer, dead and decomposing on the forest floor.

Its tongue lolls out and fungus sprouts from its eyes.

"Aiie a terrible omen" the old woman hisses. "Disease, corruption, desecration. It spreads across this land. '' The old woman looks directly at Asbjorn as she speaks.

The old woman indicates that Ash should pick up a deck, which he does.

"Throw the top card in the fire" the woman says.

"Fuck you ya old bag" Ash says as he draws the top card and turns it over.

The card depicts a massive throne made of human bones and skin. At the top of the throne sits the skull of some massive horned beast.

The old woman lets out a shriek of surprise. "Truly the cards are cruel. I have seen this drawn but once, and that was not a pleasant story".

Ash looks hard at the card. His face grows still and pale.

"A lich" he whispers

The old woman meets his eyes and slowly nods her head. She seems disturbed, as if this little game has not planned out as she thought it would.

She motions to the decks again. Asbjorn gets up and walks to the decks, selects one, and throws the top card in the fire.

As he places the second card down the old woman lets out a terrible wail and falls over faint.

The card doesn't depict any image that makes sense. Rather it seems like an abstract grouping of colored lines. However everyone feels a sense of unease as they gaze upon the card.

"What is that" Teejak asks.

"I don't know but it kind of creeps me out" says Ash

"Oh the old woman mysteriously dealing cards and randomly screaming didn't do enough already?" Asbjorn rejoined.
The old woman suddenly sits up. Her eyes are rolled into the back of her head, and she doesn't acknowledge anyone.

In a low monotone voice that gets louder as she speaks she begins to say:

7 there are and 7 there shall be
Betrayal for gold, betrayal for love, betrayal for duty
The great serpent rises
And his rats despoil the White Crown
Broken Crook, broken flail
Harbingers of chaos
The dwarves village is but the beginning
Disease shall conquer the land
All shall sleep yet endlessly toil
As the ageless one seeks his masters return
Pull a thread and watch the world unravel
FOR ENTROPY RISES
SEEK SYLVANA STRAND

The old woman bellows the last line of the prophecy, and comes out of her trance.

“Oh my. What happened...I don’t remem…”

She trails off as she notices the card again. She sucks in her breathe. “Never have I seen that card dealt. I managed to forget it was even in the deck...but to appear now, to you….”

“What is it?” Asbjorn asks. “What does this mean?”

“It is...chaos” she replies reluctantly. “It is the dissolution of all order and substance. It is…..entropy”.

She seems afraid, and quickly stands up.

"I must go. Events are already in motion and I have tarried too long"

The party notices that the woman is moving much more quickly than she was before. The crook in her back is gone, and she suddenly seems much younger.

"Wait" Teejak says. "Are these things that must be or those that can be? These predictions are dire.

The woman looks back. "These are things that are and things that will be if you do not act"

As the old woman strides away her body seems to vanish for a moment.

Suddenly where she was standing just a moment ago a great silver dragon appears.

Its scales shine with metallic gleam in the moonlight as it spreads its wings and takes flight. It quickly flies out of eyesight.

"Uhhhh what the fuck was that?" says Asbjorn

"A metallic dragon" Ash says in a low, awed voice. "I never thought to see one, they are so rare. But it may be a good sign, for they are the wisest of the dragons."

"Whelp I'm going back to bed unless anymore strange sorceresses want to have me call bingo numbers or some shit" says Teejak

With that the party lay back down for a night of fitful sleep.

After a final passionate night with Quelline, Asbjorn drank his morning beer and prayed to Ozrikotep for the power to defeat the undead.

“It’s a two-and-a-half-day journey to Old Owl Well,” said Daran as the group set out, “be on your guard, the Triboar Trail can be a dangerous place.”

The summer heat was beginning to set in as the group marched eastward. Around noon on the second day of travel, the group encountered a small halfling village along the Triboar Trail and stopped briefly so that Asbjorn could purchase some peaches for his next batch of sloppy joe’s special brew. Ash inquired about orc raids and the halflings confirmed that orc attacks had been quite common, but they were unable to pinpoint the exact position of the orc camp.

On the morning of the group’s third day of travel, Daran paused their eastward march on the Triboar Trail.

“Old Owl Well is due south from here,” said the retired adventurer.

Asbjorn easily navigated several miles of rolling hills, leading the group to the old well. As Team America crested a low ridge, they saw the crumbling ruins of an old watchtower standing amid the rugged hills. The place was so old that the walls were merely mounds of rubble enclosing a courtyard of sorts, adjacent to the broken stump of an old tower. A colorful tent was set up in the middle of the courtyard along with the ashes of a campfire, but no one was in sight. Asbjorn quickly prayed to Ozrikotep for protection for his allies.

Teejak stealthily scouted ahead, slipping in between the mounds of debris and into the interior of the courtyard where he detected movement and padded footfalls coming from the interior of the old watchtower. The rogue then motioned for Ash, Asbjorn, and Daran to follow him into the interior of the courtyard. Arcanine immediately detected a scent also emanating from inside the watchtower.

Asbjorn channeled Ozrikotep’s divine energy to create the sound of thunder in the center of the courtyard.

“What the fuck!?!?” shouted a red-robed figure that emerged from the colorful tent, “What is the meaning of this!?”

The masculine figure had sallow skin and a shaved head with a tattoo on his forehead. Asbjorn and Ash both immediately recognized the tattoo as representing the wizarding school of necromancy.

“So we came into these ruins and you had a fancy tent here…” said Asbjorn.

“Do you make it a habit of invading people’s campsites?” said the necromancer.

“Do you normally camp in old ruins?”

“Yes they are well sheltered and make for good campsites.”

“Does it not make sense that we would want to camp here as well?”

“It’s still morning! Surely you can find somewhere else to camp.”

Teejak proceeded to the entrance of the old watchtower and spotted nearly a dozen zombies and what appeared to be a zombified larger version of the spectator creature that had been guarding the forge of spells.

“As you can see, elf,” said the necromancer, “my companions and I have already claimed this campsite.”

“What did you see, Teejak?” asked Asbjorn.

“A shitton of zombies and something that looks like Isa but larger and with more tentacles and it looks like he returned from hell,” replied Teejak.

“God dammit! Why do you have such a big undead army?” asked Asbjorn.

“To guard myself against intruders such as yourselves.”

“This is a free open public space. I don’t think anyone is an intruder here.”

“I will claim this space as my own by force if I must, but I don’t want it to come to that.”

“Are you a good person? Are you friendly?”

“My companions and I are friendly so long as you do not interfere with my business.”

“I’m gonna be straight with you, necromancer sir,” said Asbjorn, “we heard reports from nearby townsfolk of undead here that were worrying them. So, we came to check it out.”

“My army has never attacked passersby.”

“It hasn’t yet, how do we know that it won’t.”

“You have my word.”

“Necromancer, sir, I don’t mean you any harm. I don’t want to fight you. But I do want to know why you are at this well so I can calm the townsfolk.”

“I wish to ask a question of a banshee that lives near here.”

“Look, I can’t go back to town and be like ‘it’s cool, he’s just talking to a banshee.’”

“I don’t particularly care what the townsfolk think, if they want to deal with me, they can come here themselves.”

“Do you intend to help or the hurt the townsfolk with the information you learn from the banshee?”

“I bear the townsfolk no ill-will.”

“Would you be willing to un-summon some of your undead to ease concerns in town?”

“No.”

“What is your name, sir?”

“Hamun Kost. What is your name?”

“My name is Asbjorn, Sir Coaster. You got a zombie tentacle monster back there… the townsfolk just aren’t gonna be cool with that.”

“I don’t care if they are cool with it. I need protection from others who would seek the same knowledge I do from the banshee.”

“How about this, coaster, could you leave and never return?”

“I have no intention of doing that.”

“What would happen if we kill him?” whispered Teejak to Asbjorn, “would the army die?”

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter,” whispered Asbjorn, “I have a plan for the army.”

The necromancer gestured his hands, creating a magical shield around himself.

“Hey! Did you just use some magic over there buddy?”

“I am simply preparing my defenses if your group proves hostile.”

Asbjorn turned back to Teejak and Ash, “Do you guys want to peace out here? It doesn’t seem like he is doing anything wrong at the moment at least.”

“Where did the corpses for those zombies come from?” asked Ash.

“Coaster, I don’t think you are doing anything wrong here...” Asbjorn turned back to the necromancer. “But I do want to know where the bodies for those undead came from.”

“I can assure you that these zombies were already corpses when I found them.”

“BULLSHIT!!!” shouted Asbjorn as combat erupted!!!

Ash acted first, the ranger raised his hands and a circular patch of five-foot tall vines with razor sharp thorns erupted from the ground in front of the entrance to the watchtower. Moments later, Asbjorn prayed to Ozrikotep and called forth a host of angelic spirits to encircle and protect him. The overlap of the spiked growth and spirit guardians created a venn-diagram of carnage that Team America would later refer to as “the meat grinder.”

The zombie army began pouring out of the watchtower, the razor-sharp vines tore their flesh apart before the spirit guardians disintegrated them with holy energy. By the time they reached the adventurers the zombies had been reduced to a brown paste. More and more zombies poured out of the watchtower, obliterating themselves in the meat-grinder.

“AHHHHHHH!!!” Daran clutched his sword as zombie after zombie exploded into a mist of blood and guts five feet in front of him. Teejak peed his pants a little.

Hamun “the coaster” Kost looked more than a little nervous as his army was liquified before his eyes. He teleported away and attempted to run, but Teejak anticipated his escape route and launched a crossbow bolt into his skull.

The zombie beholder floated out of the watchtower and was immediately filled with arrows and crossbow bolts like an oversized pin-cushion before targeting Asbjorn with its deadly disintegration ray.

“Asbjorn! Move!” yelled Daran, but it was too late, the disintegration ray hit Asbjorn directly in his chest. The cleric closed his eyes as he prepared to meet Ozrikotep in the everlasting beer gardens of Stovokor. However… nothing happened.

“Why isn’t he a pile of dust?” asked Ash.

Asbjorn looked down at his chest, the disintegration ray had struck the pendant that Quelline had given him just the other day, saving him from its deadly effects.

“Praise Ozrikotep!” shouted Asbjorn as he drew the wand of magic missiles and launched a barrage of magical projectiles at the zombie beholder. The darts of energy struck the beholder directly in its central eye, exploding its brain and turning the beholder into a fine mist of blood and guts.

“I miss you Isa,” muttered Ash as the battle ended.

Team America: Dungeon Police spent three restful days in Phandalin while the local blacksmith labored to construct a custom set of studded leather armor for Ash’s companion Arcanine. Toblen Stonehill offered the group free rooms at his inn; however, Asbjorn spent most of his nights at Quelline Alderleaf’s farm. During this time, Asbjorn spoke with Harbin Wester, the town master, and secured the abandoned Tresendar manor as a permanent home base for Team America: Dungeon Police, after clearing the few remaining undead from the manor. Quelline graciously offered to watch over and maintain the manor whenever the adventurers left town.

Gayjon formed an impromptu band with several other townsfolk and performed each evening at the Stonehill Inn. His epic song of the green dragon battle quickly became a favorite among the townsfolk of Phandalin. Other than that, Gayjon spent much of his time smoking opium out of the pipe that the group had claimed from the slain wraith in Wave Echo Cave.

Teejak spent most of his time drinking at the tavern. Occasionally, he would make use of the tankard of sobriety to swindle the townsfolk out of a couple gold pieces in a drinking game. One evening, when Teejak was completely blacked out, Asbjorn drew another circle on his forehead, signifying another step in his spiritual journey to bring him closer to Ozrikotep.

Wizziff made use of Glasstaff’s potions laboratory and began studying the tomes there in hopes of brewing the ultimate goblin aphrodisiac.

Tau passed the time by writing in his journal and reflecting on what a truly bizarre group of companions he had come across.

Kyron spent his days camped out on a hill just outside of town. The One Above All dispelled his anxiety, doubt, and fear, but his cosmic path was still clouded. He had more questions than answers.

“Will we be successful in the battle against the aboleth?” Kyron prayed one evening as the sun was setting. A crow flew over to his campfire and perched on a fallen log across from Kyron.

“I don’t know.”

Kyron heard a voice inside his head and knew that the One Above All had taken the form of this crow and was speaking to him telepathically.

Flabbergasted, Kyron blurted out, “How can you not know!?”

“I see many, many battles, in fact, I see all battles that have ever been or will ever be. Your battle does not stand out amongst them. But I don’t believe that you called me here tonight to discusses battles yet to come. Kyrone you are meant to help and guide people along their cosmic path. While your combat prowess is unquestioned your real gift lies with people and helping them achieve more. The next step in your adventure is not for me to choose, but for you to decide.”

And with that the crow was gone.

Kyron decided to rebuild the monastery he had previously lived in. He would serve the people of Phandalin with the money he had earned from the dragon’s horde. He would design the building with a grand library for travelers, townspeople, and lost souls alike. He would ask Gundren to borrow his bag of holding to transfer the books from wave echo cave to his new library. Maybe the books also contained clues to defeat the aboleth. Kyron had recalled his party members talking about potions, and how they might help slay the beast. They could use Glasstaff’s potions lab to brew any potions he might uncover in his studies. Kyron secured Gundren’s bag of holding and departed for Wave Echo Cave with his hired help from the town, a man named Gregor-Philpe Macese, to begin gathering the books from the library in the Forge of Spells.

Ash and Asbjorn posted a notice on the board outside of the town hall.

“Fighting men needed to slay an ancient evil in Wave Echo Cave. Reward money available.”

Magic, with his newly regrown hands, was the first to come forward and offer his services in slaying the aboleth. Three miners, all wearing red shirts, also came forward. Finally, Daran Edermath, a retired adventurer who ran an orchard in town also came forward.

With Gayjon’s generous donation of his share of the dragon’s gold, Team America was able to offer 5000 gold pieces to help rebuild Phandalin, slay the aboleth, and reopen the mine of the Phandelver’s pact. Inside the town hall Sildar Hallwinter spoke with the adventurers.

“My friends, I agree that the next step in helping return Phandalin to glory would be to slay the aboleth and reopen the mine,” said the knight of the Lords Alliance, “Unfortunately, Phandalin is not a haven for adventurers such as yourselves, I fear that if you lead the townsfolk here into that cave you will be leading them into a bloodbath. Neverwinter has several adventurers’ guilds as well as a vast supply of magical weapons and armor for sale. In my opinion, your next step should be to venture to Neverwinter.”

“I agree,” said Asbjorn, “Before we depart for Neverwinter are there any other threats to the town that we should be aware of? I am concerned for the safety of the townsfolk here.”

“Well you have dealt with the Redbrands,” replied Sildar, “what about the Cragmaw goblins? Has the entire tribe been slain?”

“Well… we killed their leader,” said Asbjorn, “we left the rest of them with… diarrhea… we aren’t entirely sure what has become of them.”

“I WAS INVISIBLE!” Teejak drunkenly chimed in as he slapped Sildar on the back.

“In addition to the Cragmaw goblins there are several other potential threats to the town listed on the quest board just outside,” said Sildar.

“Personally, I am concerned with sightings of undead near the Old Owl Well,” Daran Edermath, the retired adventurer spoke up at this point.

“Ash, Teejak, and myself will accompany you to deal with these undead, Daran,” said Asbjorn, “Tau, Wizziff, and Gayjon will remain here and guard the town in case the Cragmaw goblins regain their strength and attempt an attack. Gather what you need, we will depart tomorrow at first light.”

“Holy shit. That actually fucking worked!?” Ash exclaimed as blood continued to spray from the dragon’s exploded chest cavity for the next thirty seconds, staining the pile of gold coins crimson. Ash immediately got to work harvesting useful components from the corpse of the magical beast as the rest of the party began assessing the value of the dragon’s hoard.

“Shouldn’t we save Wizziff?” Tau pointed toward the wizard, who was still choking on the poisonous fumes from the dragon’s breath weapon. Asbjorn immediately stabilized Wizziff with a quick prayer to Ozrikotep and Ash popped a goodberry in his mouth to bring him back to consciousness.

“There must be 10,000 gold coins here!” yelled Teejak excitedly.

“It will be impossible to transport all of this wealth back to town in a single trip,” said Kyron.

“Here, use this,” Gundren came forward and produced a small satchel from his pack, “It’s a bag of holding, it opens into an extra-dimensional space where we can store large volumes. Just remember never to try placing one bag of holding inside of another… something about folding spacetime… it’s not good”

Team America Dungeon Police began collecting the gold coins for the bag of holding while Teejak scouted out the cave exit.

“The way is blocked by boulders!” yelled Teejak.

“The dragon…” Wizziff spoke up but was still having difficulty breathing, “The dragon partially collapsed the cavern to prevent your escape.”

“Gundren, Nundro, let’s get to work digging our way out,” Kyron instructed.

“We need to determine ownership of this wealth,” said Ash, “That bag is about to become incredibly valuable.”

“We should give some to the townsfolk of Phandalin,” said Asbjorn, “the Redbrands would have never bothered them if it wasn’t for the Black Spider’s efforts to conceal this mine.”

“I agree,” said Ash, “after we take our cut, I think we each deserve at least 100 gold.”

“It’s not really our ‘cut’ it’s what we need to continue our adventure,” replied Asbjorn.

“I’m not walking out of here with less than 500 gold,” asserted Teejak.

“I was going to suggest we each take 1000,” said Asbjorn.

“Well I’ll take 1000 then!” replied Teejak, “I guess just because you serve a god it doesn’t mean you have to be poor!”

“You do realize that the Lord of Entropy is out there trying to destroy the entire world?” said Asbjorn. “We will need to use this money to buy the equipment we need to defeat him.”

“How are you planning to kill a god?” asked Teejak.

“Long arms, my friend,” replied Kyron as he twirled the Halberd of Improved Smiting, “Long arms…”

“Well I’m planning to use this gold to buy beer!” exclaimed Teejak.

“Teejak, I have followed Ozrikotep for a long time,” said Asbjorn as he handed Teejak the tankard of sobriety, “trust me, you can kill a god if you drink enough beer.”

“I don’t understand,” said Teejak, “this mug will never allow me to get drunk.”

“There are three circles that represent my god,” said Asbjorn, “the first circle, that I have drawn on your head, represents sobriety.”

Teejak still looked a bit confused but accepted the tankard of sobriety nonetheless.

“My friends!” exclaimed Gundren, “we’ve opened a path through the boulders, we’re free!”

After nearly a week spent trapped underground the beautiful wildflower-covered valley that lay before the adventurers was a sight for sore eyes. Cautiously, the group descended the couloir back down to the valley floor and proceeded back towards the town of Phandalin.

“Before we return to town I should tell you all something,” said Teejak as the group trekked downhill. “Halia Thornton, the leader of the Phandelver Miner’s guild, is a member of the Zhentarim. She offered me membership after we defeated the Redbrands and I accepted.”

“What are the Zhentarim?” asked Asbjorn.

“A mercenary organization struggling for power across the sword coast, I don’t normally subscribe to group memberships but it can occasionally be useful.”

“Fuckin sellsword…” muttered Gayjon as he awoke from a drunken stupor.

“Anyway…” continued Teejak, “I’m concerned she might make a play for the money we leave with the townsfolk. So I figured I should say something before our socially inept dwarf friend here hands over large quantities of money to the mob.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day…” conceded Asbjorn.

“He’s not wrong…” said Ash, “we should entrust the gold to Gundren in that case.”

“We may also want to slowly reveal the power of the mine, allow the town to establish itself again before advertising the magical properties of the forge,” suggested Asbjorn.

“Gayjon, you have 1000 gold by the way.”

“…Okay… I’m gonna donate it to charity,” replied the halfling.

“Aren’t you gonna buy drugs?” asked Ash.

“…..worry about your own money….” said Gayjon.

It was late afternoon by the time Team America Dungeon Police returned victoriously to Phandalin.

“My friends!” a familiar voice called out as the adventurers entered the town. Magic, the hook-handed halfling drug dealer, was the first to greet them.

“Hell yeah!” exclaimed Gayjon, “What up boy?”

“I need your help,” replied Magic, “I used the bounty money from those hobgoblins to purchase this scroll from a cleric, he said it would grow my hands back!” Magic removed a cylindrical scroll case from his pack. “But I can’t read the damn thing! I was hoping one of your might know how to use this. I spent my entire savings on this scroll… there are some things you just can’t do properly without hands…”

“Aight,” said Gayjon, “Let me take a look at this scroll…”

Gayjon began tinkering around with his flute, trying to interpret the scroll as magical notes, but was unable to read the spell.

“Sorry bud. Asbjorn, can you this?”

“Asbjorn carefully examined the scroll before looking at Magic and Gayjon. “Magic, this is a difficult spell to cast. I think that with a little bit of guidance from Ozrikotep and help from Gayjon I might be able to perform it, but I’m not certain it will succeed.”

“Try it,” replied Magic.

Gayjon began massaging Asbjorn’s shoulders as the cleric uttered a prayer to Ozrikotep. As soon as he finished reading the scroll it evaporated into magical energy. Moments later Magic’s hooks popped off of his stubs as new hands began to grow in their place.

“God bless you!!!” exclaimed Magic, “take a kilo of my finest opium!” and with that, Magic slapped Gayjon’s ass with his newly grown hand and ran off.

“Well I guess we are drug dealers now boys…” said Gayjon.

Queline Alderleaf, the halfling farmer and mother, was next to greet Team America Dungeon Police as she returned from working in the fields outside of town.

“Asbjorn! It’s so good to see you! I’m glad you’ve returned safely!” Quelline exclaimed.

“It’s good to see you too. I’ve been trapped underground with these…. companions… for far too long,” replied Asbjorn. “I have a gift for you, it’s not from me though, but rather a long lost relative whose spirit I discovered in Wave Echo Cave.”

Asbjorn then produced the diamond he had obtained from the gnome ghost Yosvyn.

“My gods that is a gigantic diamond!” exclaimed Quelline.

“I got something else gigantic for you girl,” muttered Gayjon.

“Where did you say you got this?” asked Quelline as she shuffled away from Gayjon a bit.

“It is from a distant relative of yours whose spirit was trapped in the mine, attached due to greed.”

“Thank you for bringing this! This will change our lives!!! We can build a larger farm, I can hire more workers, and I can send my son to wizarding school!!!”

“Son!?” Asbjorn was clearly surprised, “Son!?!?”

“You knew I had a son didn’t you?”

“No…..”

“Let’s kill her,” whispered Gayjon.

“Yes, his father was killed by goblins some time ago I’m afraid.”

“Ahhh, killed…” said Asbjorn, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You and your friends will always be welcome in Phandalin! You would be welcome to stay at my farm as long as you like.”

“Would you like to go to dinner tonight?” asked Asbjorn.

“I thought you would never ask :)”

Later that evening the adventurers celebrated at the Stone Hill Inn Tavern. Gundren and Nundro told everyone in town of Team America Dungeon Police’s accomplishments.

“They slew the Black Spider!” exclaimed the dwarves. “They slew hoards of undead! And they slew Venomfang, the green dragon!!!”

The townsfolk raised their glasses to the adventurers. Asbjorn, who was on his date with Quelline, watched from the corner and poured her a glass of the most expensive vintage available for the toast. Quelline chugged the entire glass and promptly vomited all over Asbjorn.

“HOLY SHIT!” exclaimed the dwarf.

“Oh gods… I’m so embarrassed.” sighed Quelline, “You don’t know what it’s like to work in that field all day long.”

“Elsa!” Asbjorn shouted over to the barmaid, “What the fuck!? Did you drug her?”

“I swear! I did not!”

“She’s always been jealous of me…” said Quelline.

“I heard you bitch!” replied Elsa, “no one wants a woman who’s four feet tall.”

“I’m closer to what matters to men!”

Meanwhile, at the bar, Sildar Hallwinter joined Team America Dungeon Police.

“I must say… I was pretty sure you were going to get yourselves killed,” said Sildar Hallwinter as he chugged another ale and joined in the festivities.

“Well, the worst part of the cave was probably the darkness,” replied Gayjon.

“You and Asbjorn have proven yourselves worthy members of the Lords Alliance!” said Sildar.

“How many members have killed a green dragon?”

“You are now part of the top 10% elite!”

“When is the Lord’s Alliance payday?” asked Gayjon.

“It’s more of a quest/reward system….”

“I’m gonna need to take this up the chain to the local manager.”

“I can offer you 500 gold for your services to this town.”

“I WANT….. I’ll… I’ll take that,” replied Gayjon.

“There is still one foe yet to be slain in Wave Echo Cave,” said Asbjorn who had come to the bar to get another drink for Quelline, “The aboleth that resides in the underground lake there.”

“It would be in our best interest to recruit as much help from the townsfolk as we can get in that regard,” said Ash.

“An aboleth is a formidable foe, we would be leading many of them to their deaths,” said Kyron.

“So be it,” replied Ash in a true neutral tone.

“Or we could go back and bring it some slaves,” piped up Gayjon, “then we would have an aboleth on our side.”

“Uhhhhhh…. No.” sighed Asbjorn.

“Whatever. Slavery is legal boy scout,” replied Gayjon.

“Legal doesn’t mean right,” said Ash.

“In my tribe, every member is a valued member of the community,” said Asbjorn.

“Regardless,” said Ash, “We should rest and recover here for a couple days. We can put out a notice of payment for assistance in our fight against the aboleth.”

At this point, Quelline walked up to Asbjorn and whispered something in his ear. A smile passed over the dwarf’s face as he chugged his ale and allowed Quelline to lead him out of the tavern.

“Who wants a drinking game!?” yelled Teejak as he pulled out the tankard of sobriety. Thirty minutes later Teejak had drank an old miner and a farmer under the table and was collecting his winnings as other townsfolk began to black out as well. Gayjon started banging on a drum and was blowing his signal whistle as loud as possible.

“Do you think you could keep it down a bit?” asked Toblen Stonehill, the innkeeper, as he walked up to the group with his young son, Pip.

“WE KILLED A DRAGON TODAY!?” shouted Gayjon as he began banging on the drum with his dong, “DO YOU WANT TO FUCKIN BURN TO DEATH!”

“Okay… okay… Best go to bed, Pip, you don’t want to see this…” muttered Toblen as he shuffled away and left the adventurers to their drunken revelry.

Asbjorn slept toward dawn.