Returning triumphantly after a hard-fought battle on the outskirts of Bremen, the party quickly finds sleep. Until a clatter and commotion wakes them up - and Amber Forgeson, Lanin "Bones" Emsbaltriforte, and Mr. Mistoffelees clamber downstairs to investigate. The other two in the party must still be fast asleep, as there's no sign of them.
It doesn't take long to see that the tavern seems to have been emptied out in a hurry! Upturned tables and left-behind coats are all that remain as patrons scrambled out, away from the new resident... bartender? Who appears to be a massive ice troll, currently drowning his sorrows with every bit of alcohol he can find.
Through Mr. Mistoffelees' conversational efforts, it becomes clear that this ice troll is having a no good, very bad night. He's a toll troll, you see, but a self-described "pathetic" one. Despondently, he relates his tale of woe.
A bunch of goats who he'd thought were just normal, nice goats, and possibly food, turned on him when he tried to collect the toll for his bridge a few miles away. They were mean goats! They drove him off, they almost killed him! And now he doesn't know what will happen to his bridge, the bridge he lovingly maintains and peacefully collects tolls for.
Lanin's attention was had at "goats." The party encouragingly offers aid, perhaps for coin, to which Gruff - the poor toll troll - perks up and immediately offers his entire bag of collected tolls, which jingles quite handsomely. A plan is now in motion! Amber steps outside to reassure the waiting patrons that they're handling it, and negotiate payment from them as well.
So decided, the party and Gruff set forth to retake the bridge. The better part of an hour is spent walking under an aurora-less night with only a faint moon to guide them. Lanin carries a rock on which Amber has cast light to navigate by, while they discuss goats to pass the time. "I learned if you smell like an owlbear they don't like you," Amber offers helpfully, relating advice from her goat-breeding great-aunt Peridot.
Once they arrive, they plot potential negotiations. Two dire goats are harassing a lone merchant who was trying to cross the bridge, but couldn't pay a satisfactory toll. The goats had claimed the life of his sled dogs and were rounding on him when the party interrupts, causing him to yell repeatedly, "They'll kill you! We're all going to die!" Very helpful, mate.
Through Speak with Animals, Lanin is able to approach the foremost two dire goats with Gruff at her side, though he twitches nervously. The goats quickly make clear their position: there will be no negotiating. "Paaay the to-o-o-oll or di-i-ie," they bleat in stereo.
Well then.
Turning immediately into her bear form, Amber and Mistoffelees recognize this as the signal that a fight is imminent, allowing themselves a brief moment to prepare. Except for the ice troll, who seems frozen in place, completely useless at the start of combat.
The first dire goat is in dire straits soon enough, but so is the cleric. In Lanin's bear form, she was able to sniff out more danger than she could presently see, and it quickly makes itself known. From the other side of the icy bridge comes a thundering of hooves as a large frost goat comes charging down the bridge to ram Amber, who, upon seeing it approach, flashes back to an unfortunate incident on her aunt's farm when she was five, before being knocked into immediate unconsciousness. Thankfully, the man on the bridge is spared suffering a back-kick by the cleric's forethought of sanctuary.
Spurred into action by the harm befalling his new friends and inspired by the bard ("Remember your liquid courage!"), Gruff finally finds his claws! - only to miss both swipes before managing to sink his teeth into the dire goat's side. The bard quickly gets Amber back on her feet shakily with a spot of healing, who in turn soon sets the massive goat aflame in retaliation, and the troll once again is able to find his mojo. Gruff releases a MASSIVE swipe with his claws on the smaller goat in front of him which realistically could have been toppled with a stiff breeze by this point, but it seems to boost his confidence nonetheless.
Meanwhile the druid has been absorbing so much damage that Lanin has gone from goliath, to bear, to goliath, to bear, and she hopes to hold onto that last wild-shaped form. But it is not to be. Mistoffelees had whispered a terribly discordant melody to cause the large frost goat pain, and it was pushed back hard away from the party... An optimal position to, once again, charge. Its sights were set on the nearest and most threatening target: the bear. Lanin finds herself returning to goliath form for a split second before losing consciousness entirely, fading to within an inch of death's door.
Amber taunts the massive goat to - goad - sorry - it into attacking her instead of the dying Lanin, and it somehow works, the goat unable to recalibrate a changing direction of attack in time to do any damage to the wounded cleric. In a moment of respite Amber brings Lanin back from the brink, but not by far. Somewhere along the way, the other small goat has been handily dispatched by the frost troll, but this is far from the party's minds as the large frost goat rounds on them menacingly.
Mistoffelees judges this an appropriate time to turn tail and run. Fleeing with only a small insult hurled over his shoulder, he becomes a new target for another charge. Bowing its head and lowering its horns for maximum effect, the goat begins its assault, paying no heed to the others surrounding it nor to the lingering effects from the bard's mockery.
From her position on the ground, Lanin feebly swipes to no effect as it rushes by. The cleric lands a strike with her warhammer. But as our bard tabaxi sees the giant goat hurtling ever closer towards him, death on its mind, it is Gruff who leaps into instinctive reaction, lashing out with a mighty claw swipe and rending a tear in the goat's flesh from stem to stern. Its entire side erupts in blood as the gash tears fur from flesh, and its lifeless carcass comes skittering to a stop mere feet from Mistoffelees' position.
The troll holds his arm up in triumph (John Bender style), as realization dawns. The party enthusiastically points out that Gruff, in fact, had killed all three of the goats, see he could do it after all! As he inspects the bridge for any damage the man they'd rescued, Finn, approaches to give them his heartfelt thanks as well. He seems awfully shaken and parks himself under a tree until the group is able to accompany him back to town.
Curious about the taste of goat meat after she'd tasted it as a bear ("It tasted better, as a bear," the druid laments) Lanin harvests the hindquarter of the giant frost goat, while Amber hoists a dire goat carcass to fireman-carry it back with them.
With more congratulations and good wishes, Gruff resumes his post, and Finn is escorted back by the three triumphant adventurers. There the eager townsfolk shower the party in coins and drinks and cheers, relieved and celebrant, with Lanin directing them to cook up the goat (and save the bones!)
At last the party head to bed once more, well-deserving of a long rest.
The next morning breakfast awaits. It does not smell like cooked goat, and in fact the tavern looks strangely put-together, as if a disturbance had never even happened. Amber has no trace of the coins given from Gruff or the happy patrons in thanks. As they're parsing these inconsistencies, Cora Mulphoon, the innkeeper whom they hadn't seen last night at all, waves them over to hand them a small package and a note. "I don't know why I have this," she explains, confused, "But I do, and it's for you."
It reads simply,
Dear adventurers,
You found me in the right place at the right time, fortuitous indeed.
I do not have much to offer by way of thanks, though I hope this brings you further luck.
- Finn
It seems it was all a very strange midwinter dream... but the luckstone is indeed real.