Dragonwings of Wrath
Hoard of the Dragon Queen
The Story Continues
Greenest. This large town sits astride the Uldoon trail, the most direct road between the eastern cities of the Dragon Coast, and the Coast Way that runs south to the great cities of Amn, Tethyr, and far Calimshan. Legend has it that the town was founded by Dharva Scatterheart, a halfling rogue who fancied herself the Queen of the Greenfields. Scatterheart passed away without ever achieving that level of eminence. Nonetheless, her town grew into a thriving community helped greatly by its trade-links.
Though large, the town was not walled for it had no enemies. It was beyond the reach of the Lords of Baldur’s Gate to the West, and the independent cities of Elturel and Berdusk would do everything in their power to keep it neutral. Many merchants found such an unspoken arrangement quite agreeable! However, Greenest was not without its defenses, and the Market Square was overlooked by the stone keep, towering upon the top of the steep hill that the town is built around. Here, Tarbaw Nighthill, the elected Governor and Defender of Greenest, could often be seen pacing the battlements, deep in thought.
It was market day, and four travellers joined the many groups and carts queuing to enter into the town. The guards in brightly polished armour waved them in. However, Şillic noticed the soldiers were a little edgy. Rumours have come that some villages nearby have been attacked, looted and burnt by unknown raiders; and refugees have fled to Greenest seeking to rebuild their lives. But the men-at-arms weren’t too worried: after all, they were Guards, not Militia, and more than a match for any mere Orc-Raiding party!
Glancing behind him, Vander noticed that the concern of the guards had got the better of them, for they had stopped and questioned two tall cloaked strangers accompanied by a large dog. But whatever the issue was, it was soon resolved, and the strangers were let in.
Eventually, after surviving the hustle and bustle of the streets, they eventually found a place to stay. The Golden Beard was down a side-street just before the market place. Thalek was amused to see the sign of an aged smiling dwarf with a yellow beard, and commented that such a place would have been to the liking of their former companions, Eulfgar and Tordek. Perhaps the brothers had stayed here on their journey with Gudrun?
Whether the dwarf-brothers did or not, the party soon booked rooms. Next they headed off to the Market to find someone that would buy the crafted crockery and jewelry that they had found during their previous adventures against the Black Spider. Then, after making arrangements to meet up again at the Inn before dark, they all split their separate ways to explore the town further and spend their new-won wealth on the new weapons and equipment that they had come to the town to purchase.
Eventually, after a good market-day of selling treasure and buying goods, Ishtra, Şilic, Thalek, and Vander all returned to the Inn of the Golden Beard for food, drink, and looking forwards to probably the most luxurious beds that they had slept in for quite some while.
Outside, the setting sun was turning red against the darkened sky.
1. Stay Interrupted
Inside in the Common Room, the fire is warm, and there was much merry-making. Both locals and other guests were sitting at tables, or crowding near the bar with drinks in hand. This was a larger place than the Redwaters Inn – more like the Red Sheath back in Beregost that the group had left seemingly so so long ago. People from all groups of society seemed to be there: merchants from far away mingled easily with shop-keepers; though not all the clients looked respectable…
One of the bar-staff, Katty, came over to them. “Ah there you are! Your rooms are ready as requested. I can order food for you, though it may take a while to prepare – lots of customers tonight it seems… You’d best find yourselves a table, and I’ll come over to you?”
They looked around and realised that finding a table all to themselves was not going to be easy. One table to the left of them was occupied by a group of men and women oblivious to anyone else except their own jokes and laughter. One couple also seemed to be oblivious to anyone except each other… Another group of people crowded a table in front of them. It was indeed a busy place that night. Then 'Kered' – who now wished to be known by her true name, Ishtra – noticed a near-empty table to the far left, save for two cloaked strangers – possibly the ones Vander saw earlier. Why people kept away from them became immediately apparent when the group saw the stranger’s four-legged companion: not a large dog, but a wolf that was sitting under the table. One of the strangers, cloaked in the garb of a traveller of the wild, was even nuzzling its head with his hand! The other stranger was also cloaked and indeed hooded, and though his back was turned to them something about him suggested that neither was he quite human.
Not far from them was a small single table where a tall robed figure sat on his own. He was certainly was not human, for he openly showed his scaly red visage. Now and then he glanced in the direction of the other two as if he was interested in the two strangers for some reason. But whatever that reason, the Dragonborn kept himself to himself.
Ishtra and Thalek went over to the two strangers and asked if they could join. Şilic and Vander, however, decided to prop themselves at the Bar and order drinks. Thalek and Ishtra could now see that the hooded stranger was also Dragon-born, though something wasn’t right about his scales: they were muted to a dull yellow, and certainly did not shine. And though welcoming and polite in introducing their names, these strangers did not seem to be that talkative. The Ranger was Eglarion, and his dragonborn companion, Theldrak. The Wolf, however, whose name apparently was Belle, was quite taken with Thalek’s Druidic touch. Eventually, Katty came over to collect food orders; and both Şillic and Vander came over to join them. It was then that the half-orc noticed his purse had been tampered with, and two gold coins were missing. Şillic looked around the room for the culprit.
Then commotion! One of the townspeople, bearded and unkempt, had clearly too much to drink. Loudly he started singing a bawdy song at the top of his voice. Now thoroughly annoyed, Sillic waved his hand in the direction of the drunkard. The man spluttered mid-song, words turning to started muffles as if an invisible hand had closed across his mouth.
Ishtra suddenly felt uneasy. Bella started howling. Dogs outside also began to bark. Cries of alarm could be heard from the streets outside. Eglarion excused himself and went to the nearest window, and looked out. In the light of the street-lamps, he made out a few figures running down the street. One figure ran past, looked back, and then keep running. Then another figure: this one stopped, turned around, then looked and pointed upwards.
This time they all heard the warning: “Dragon!”
Alarm! A whooshing sound: a sudden wind getting louder, then VROOOOM!! The walls burst afire, the ceiling was on fire. Flames were everywhere! Lamps smashed, Black smoke billowed into the room, coughing, confusion, shouts and screams…
The robed and red-scaled dragornborn, made it through the chaos to the nearest door. Rorgar tried to push hard against it, but it was stuck! Eglarion leapt out of the window, soon followed by Ishtra and the cartwheeling Thalek. Şillic despite the heat and flame around him, calmly downed his drink, then dived after them. Rorgar followed.
Things had not been going right for Eglarion ever since he arrived at Greenest. First the over-inquisitive soldiers, then the disappointment to find the Herbalist he was seeking was not at home. After his repeated knocking on her door in frustration, the neighbouring basket-weaver had come out to find what the commotion was. He’d explained that Fieth Thistleberry had not opened her shop for several days now, and was said to have “gone away on her travels”. Eglarion had cursed at this news: the villagers of Nenlast was counting on him to find both Fieth and the cure that would save their livestock from a plague – a mysterious sickness afflicting the Nentir Vale. How was he going to find her? Now here he was, singed by heat, face-blackened by smoke, and lying on the dirt street. He picked himself up. All around him, buildings were burning. Where in this terror was Theldrek his companion? Had he escaped from the stricken Inn? And where had Belle got to? Surely the she-wolf, sensing the danger, would have leapt out, too?
Thalek had bent his knees as he landed with elven grace upright upon the road. As he straightened, his eyes looked around. The whole street was on fire! People were running this way and that in confusion and utter terror. All around, he heard shouts and screams from victims trapped in burning buildings, unable to escape, and impossible to rescue. He looked about him to see if the others have made it out: coughing and sputtering was Ishtra; Şillic had somehow kept his cool composure. There was that half-elf Ranger, and the robed red dragonborn; but where was that yellow one? And where was Vander…!!?
His brother! Was he still inside? He whirled around, even as the burning building crashed in on itself. Terrible screams, soon cut short. Vander? Surely not? The Ranger was also in shock, though soon a familiar face nuzzled his hand hanging limp by his side. Belle’s fur was singed slightly, but she was otherwise alright, and glad to have found Eglarion alive.
Several people were now running north, endeavoring to get out of the stricken town. Suddenly they collapsed to the ground. Figures leaped out of the shadows, some small; and all carrying were torches and weapons. A few reached the stricken on the ground, and stabbed them. Other dark figures joined them. More armed figured poured into the streets behind them, shouting and throwing torches. Then the figures in front looked up and started running towards them. Şillic growled: “Looks like we have company!”
The band of survivors broke from their shock, grouping together to face this new foe. Bows twanged, magic was blasted, some figures fell on fire – but still they came on…
At that moment, a trumpet sound! All looked around – it was coming from the Keep! In the half-moonlight, upon the high mound, the fortress stood, and they could see the Greenest Banner still flying defiantly, even as the trumpet warned again: Greenest was under attack!
“Run!” shouted Eglarion.
Fight to the Keep
The heroes ran down the street; buildings burning either side of them. Then just as they reached a crossroads, they found five townspeople: a woman, a limping man, and three young children. They were pursued by small, two-legged reptilian creatures – Kobolds. The woman turned to face the Kobolds with a shied and broken spear. The heroes had arrived in time and soon made short work of the Kobolds.
The heroes and the rescued townspeople now ran down a street heading south. Arrows landed beside them: mercenaries were up on the roof of one house, shooting at them. And other mercenaries were taking aim from the side-street behind a burning cart. Magic and missile-fire pitched the mercenaries from the roof; while Belle led the charge to deal with the others. More townsfolk were found cowering behind carts, and gratefully joined them.
Now the heroes and the rescued townspeople had turned another corner and were running up the road leading up the hill to the keep. More mercenaries tried to cut off their escape, but the heroes dealt with them. All got into the keep, and the door was shut behind them even as crossbow-bolts flew out of the darkness and struck it.
Sally Port Defense
Once inside, they caught their breath. But the night was far from over yet … Warning shouts: “A priest at the Sallyport!” … “let him in!”. “Quickly, shut the door” … “too late!!”
A dwarf in armour, carrying a sword and shield, and whose beard was fiery red, knotted and tangled, charged past them: “Enemy in the keep! Enemy in the keep! We must drive them out!! With me! Come on!!”. Several Guards ran after him. The heroes grabbed their weapons again and ran after him. Some of the enemy had indeed broken through, Kobolds, accompanied by a human in dark robes that spoke of Cultic Magic, and a large, fierce dragon-like lizard. But though the Ambush Drake was indeed a vicious beast, it was slain along with the other attackers: Thalek performing cartwheels as he slew, and Ishtra beheading Kobolds to left and right.
The dwarf Castellan, Escobert the Red sized up the situation, and realised that the lock of the gate door had been heavily damaged. He asked the heroes to secure the Sally Port, by going outside to hold off any more attackers, while he used his dwarf-craft to repair the door. And so Ishtra, Rhogar, and Thalek accompanied by Belle (the wolf having taken a liking to the Druid) passed through the gate to defy anyone who dared to attack it again, while Eglarion leapt up to the walls, readying to shoot those who dared approach the heroes. Şillic, the half-orc however, had been wounded in the last fight, and obstinately refused to go out and join the defenders (he had other plans).
A mercenary, and more Kobolds advanced up the hill towards them. Accompanying them, were three more black-robed men, whose faces were covered by silver masks in the likeness of of dragon-faces – like the ones worn by the Dragon-Cultists they’d met in Thunderbranch, and who had tried to betray them to Venomfang. But what was the Cult of the Dragon doing here? Were they behind the attack – and the other village attacks?
Arrows from Eglarion shot down some, and fire from Rhogar burnt others, before the attackers could reach them. But even as sword and scimitar clashed, there was a shout! Charging into the fray came Şillic, along with some of the guards. He’d bullied and cajoled them to grab their weapons and follow him, and the raiders were driven back.
Governor Nighthill
With the sally port secured, and the heroes safely back inside, the dwarf captain wasted no time in showing his gratitude. He introduced himself as Escobert the Red, the Castellan of the Keep, and led them to Governor Nighthill so that he could also congratulate them. He leds them up stairs to the battlements of the outer wall, on the North-West corner overlooking the Town. It was the best place to view the stricken city, and was why the Governor of Greenest was there: a Human in his sixties in full but dented battle-armour. The side of his face and head were bandaged, and his right arm was in a sling. He’d been wounded since the fighting started, but hadn’t stopped to rest or receive more than cursory first aid. Other guards manned the battlements around him; and with him was a brown-robed man. He was the priest who had earlier come through the sallyport, and who introduced himself as Brother Kurman of Chauntea, the goddess of Agriculture. The news he had bought to Governor Nighthill was dire.
“Many of the townsfolk have been able to escape to the Temple of Chauntea (the goddess of Agriculture), and have barricaded themselves inside. But the raiders have it surrounded, and are trying to set fire to it. Fortunately, the dragon has not attacked yet – but it could be only a matter of time. They need to be rescued and brought here.”
The Governor pointed out the large structure of the temple, lit in the gloom by groups of torches around its walls. To the south of the temple ran the town river, on its way from the Redwaters in the North and the Cloud Peaks south, to join the River Chionthar at Berdusk.
“There’s an old tunnel that runs from the cellar of this keep to the bank of the river, due South of here. It was a secret means to collect water during a siege, but is disused – up to now we have had little need for it. The river will give you cover to get to the Temple. Brother Kerman can lead you to the back door in the wall. I cannot spare any other men.”
“Also,” and here he smiled grimly. “We need information. This attack makes no sense, Greenest isn’t big, nor is it located anywhere of strategic importance. Why would a Dragon attack this town? I can’t see it it now, but it must be out there somewhere. If you can capture us a prisoner, a cult leader, some lieutenant perhaps, and bring him back, we can interrogate the wretch and find out. Our very survival may depend on it!”
He looked out again from the battlements, and then pointed to the market-place. Down below, they could just see a purple-robed figure with long dark hair, and accompanied by many guards – unfortunately out of bowshot. “I would love to get hold of her,” sighed Nighthill, “but she will be too-well defended. Just get us a low-level officer. They will tell us what we need to know soon enough!”
The Old Tunnel
Escobert led them into the keep tower, and down stairs to the underground cellars. Eventually, they come to an old door, clearly seldom used. He had a key, but it got stuck in the lock. Şillic smiled, got out his tools, and soon had the door open. The Dwarf handed him another key to open the grill at the other end. The Tunnel was pitch-black and the heroes lit their torches and lanterns. Once they were in the tunnel, Escobert bid them: “Good Luck, laddies!”, before closing the door behind them.
The tunnel was full of cobwebs, and rough-hewn, but was otherwise clear. It led a long way down a gentle slope. It was also damp, and in some places, the ground underfoot was muddy. Eventually, they could make out ahead the shape of the exit. But then they heard scuttling and squeaking – they’d disturbed a swarm of rats! Eglarion threw his torch at them, but Şillic was in front of him and in the way: the flame of the torch singed Şillic as it flew over his shoulder. Then Thalek decided to cast Thunderwave. The resulting earthquake certainly made the scampering rats turn and flee – but it also shook the tunnel causing some of the ceiling to cave in: chunks of earth falling upon them, putting out their lights and plunging everyone in darkness.
A light was struck. In the lantern-light, the others could see the annoyed face of Şillic. But for once, he was speechless!
They reached the exit and sure enough, they found that there was an iron grate across its low mouth. Şillic got it open, but as he tried to slip out to scout, his foot hit the water with a splash – alerting a nearby patrol of Cultists and Kobolds. He motioned everyone to hide and took cover himself. The patrol passed them, bickering as they went. Once they’d gone, Şillic signaled for everyone to get moving.
The group sneaked along the edge of the river, avoiding other patrols. Eventually, Brother Kurman motioned everyone to stop, and then led the heroes into the woods that rested on the lower slope of the Temple Hill. But their luck ran out when one of them trod on a twig, alerting another patrol in the woods. But the heroes had advantage in that some of them could see in the dark, while the mercenaries could not. Short work was made of them.
Eventually, they reached the back wall of the Temple. The back gate was open and not guarded. However, raiders had already broken into the Temple Courtyard.
Desperate Rescue
The heroes were hiding in the shadows of the Temple back gate. Across the courtyard stood the Sanctuary, besieged by Cultists and Kobolds. A dark shadow, a rustle of cloak – Şillic has returned from his scout. They’d seen the procession of cultists, kobolds, and Ambush Drakes that made a circuit of the building every ten minutes or so; and they could also see, thanks to the thick smoke, that across from them another group of cultists and kobolds were trying and failing to set light to the back door. But Şillic had checked the group of raiders at the front of the building. He’d found they were a large group, led by a more senior looking cloaked cultist, and were trying to use a makeshift ram to batter down the Main Doors of the Sanctuary. Soon the doors would give way…
With much yammering and chanting, of Kobolds, Cultists, and Ambush-Drakes passed them and moved around in procession around the right hand side of the Sanctuary. Sleep magic and missile fire soon made short work of the Cultists and Kobolds trying to break through the back door. Şillic took up position by the left corner of the Sanctuary, looking out for the procession when it would soon return that way. Brother Kurman quickly had the door open, and Ishtra and Thalek rushed inside. Rhogar and Eglarion stayed by the door keeping watch.
Thalek and Ishtra passed through the Vestery and came into the main sanctuary. there they found a crowd of townspeople in near-hysterics at the Boom! Boom! Boom! of the battering-ram. Above the panic, Father Grassus, the half-elf Temple Leader, was still keeping a level head and directing the other priests to minister to peoples’ needs. They made their way to him, and he was overjoyed to see them. They explained the plan, and he soon calmed everyone down.
Crash! The doors gave way. In charged Kobolds and Cultists in a bloodlust! But they were met by an empty hall, save for an elf who stood in the doorway of the Vestery. Thalek smiled at them as, being the rearguard, and the last one out, he shut the vestry door.
Led by Ishtra and Brother Kurman, the towns people rushed out of the back door to the back gate, and down into the woods. Eglerion seemed to be dIshtracted as he watched every one leave. He was visibly agitated. Then Şillic gave warning.
The first Kobolds, leading the procession, came dancing and cartwheeling around the corner – straight into magic and missile-fire. Others joined the fray, including cultists and two Ambush Drakes. But Eglarion’s aim was not true – something was clearly bothering him. When the last of the cultic procession were slain, he gave voice to his fears, and intentions. “Theldrak is not here! Get back to the Keep! I’m going to find him!”
He bent over a Cultist body to grab a mask, when he felt the steel of a rapier at his throat. “We stick together!”, Şillic hissed.
A that moment, the back door crashed open again. Out from it poured the other Kobolds and Cultists. Şillic let off a ball of fire even as he dove for the shadows. But then out from the doorway came the Dragonclaw Lieutenant. He saw where the blast came from and charged. Şillic tried to parry but was overborne by the ferocity of the Dragonclaw’s attack. The half-orc was struck and fell unconscious to the floor.
But then Ishtra joined in. As agreed beforehand, she had left the rescued townspeople as Kurman and Father Grassus continued to lead them to the river. Now she had returned and was through the gate, just as Şillic was brought down. The half-orc had not been the most agreeable companion, but was a companion nonetheless – and enraged she charged the Dragonclaw. The Cultist turned to find the Barbarian’s axe swinging towards him in a disemboweling stroke. Ishtra swung her axe up and through him again even before his body-parts hit the ground.
Thalek, Rhogar and Eglarion finally finished off the last of the attackers before they could look up to see what had befallen. Unconscious, Şillic convulsed. Running over to him, Eglarion grabbed something from a pouch. Then nneeling by the half-orc, he placed his hand on the wound and uttered words in a strange tongue. Şillic stopped convulsing, and his breathing visibly improved.
“Take care of him!” warned Eglarion. He got up and ran to the body of a cultist, grabbed the cloak and mask, threw the cloak around his shoulders; then ran through the back gate and into the night. His wolf followed him.
Şillic’s eyes opened. Ishtra and Thalek hauled up the half-orc up, and holding him up between them, they and Rhogar also left by the gate and into the forest. It didn’t take long for that tough rogue to recover though, and soon his cursing convinced them he no longer needed aid to get down to the river.
Eventually, all except Eglarion and Belle, made it to the tunnel and the relative safety of the Keep. Back inside, the remaining heros finally got some rest, but not for long – for the Keep was still under siege.
The Long Night of Fire
There was a cry of alarm from the walls: “the enemy are amassing for another assault! Look! they have ladders! Here they come!”. Then the gruff but defiant voice of Escobert the Red: “Let them come! We will show them that we won’t give up the fight!”
Up to the walls the heroes went again. The enemy charged the walls. Arrows and crossbow bolts dropped some of them, but still they came. They reached the walls, ladders were raised, the assault was pressed.
Kobolds, Cultists, and mercenaries came over the parapet. Ishtra and Thalek laid into them, pitching several back over the walls. One robed Cultist climbed over and faced Rhogar. But the Acolyte’s incantations were stopped by Rhogar’s own. Held by the dragornborn’s magic, the Cultist was helpless as Şillic came behind him and brought down a cudgel upon his head. The acolyte slumped to the ground – they had a prisoner!
Another cry of alarm: “There it is! It’s back! It’s flying this way!” Even as they looked out into dark cloudy sky, the heroes saw the lethal, large, bat-like shape swooping down, it’s flame-red belly light by the fires below. It inhaled, then swooped upwards, even as a deadly cone of fire shot down to engulf the battlements of the Keep’s high tower. Screams! the smoke cleared. The defenders gone, the once-proud standard stricken in ash.
The dragon swung around and back towards the keep. All the Heroes dived for cover, even as flames engulfed more of the brave defenders. The Dragon passed right over their heads, even as Ishtra lay on the floor, loading her crossbow.
Then Rhogar stood up and shouted after him in Draconic: “Wait!”
The Dragon heard him, swept around again in a tight circle, and majestically alighted upon the top of the high tower. He bent he head and neck towards the Dragonborn.
“AND WHO ARE YOU, MORTAL, TO SPEAK TO ONE SUCH AS I?”
Rhogar tried to speak to him in the language of dragons. The dragon was somewhat impressed by this, and revealed during the conversation that he, himself was not actually enjoying the attack on Greenest. If it had been a great and renowned city, such as Waterdeep, and full of treasure, too, then fair enough! But the Dragon, whose name Rhogar found out to be Lennithon, was finding this particular attack quite below his dignity. And he wasn’t exactly going to get much of worth out of it either! Rhogar also asked him about other dragons, but Lennithon replied that he very much doubted that they would want to see the lowly likes of a mere dragonborn!
Rhogar seemed to be taken back by this response, and indeed he seemed to be quite overwhelmed by the experience of speaking with this large and majestic red dragon. Lennithon soon got tired of the conversation, and rose up off the tower and into the air, ready to resume the attack.
“Shoot!” cried a familiar deep voice. Governor Nightill had rallied some of the defenders to him, and they let fly with arrows and cross-bow bolts. Most either missed or bounced off the tough scales of that great beast. One arrow, however, shot by Sergeant Markguth did hit and penetrate. Annoyed, the dragon swung around for another swoop. This time Thalek and Ishtra also stood up and aimed their weapons. Thalek’s arrow hit and glanced off the scaly hide like the other arrows before it. Ishtra’s heavy crossbow bolt, however, found its mark between the scales – the dragon bellowed and broke off from his swoop. Lennithon had had enough: he could see no further reason to risk himself for such little reward, and despite the screams and curses of the cultists, he turned around and flew off into the night.
“I see you have a prisoner!”, grimaced the Governor.
“So we have!” grinned Şillic, fingering the edge of his jagged knife.
The Cultist Acolyte was dragged from the battlements, into the tower, and thrown into a dark, bare room. At a nod from Nighthill, Şillic began his work.
It did not take long for the Cultist to start singing. From his terrified screams and whimpers they learnt that the attackers were indeed from the Cult of the Dragon; and that they were collecting loot “for the great hoard that will user in the reign of the Queen of Dragons.” But Governor Nighthill was feeling far from merciful with this pitiful but murderous wretch, vowing that the cultist would be tried and hung in the morning.
But night and the siege were not yet over, and further assaults upon the walls were repelled. Eventually, there came the welcome glow of dawn on the horizon to the East. But the enemy had not finished yet. From the darkness, as creature strode into the dim light of the dying fires around the keep. Although shaped like a human, he was at least seven feet tall, with thick skin covered in blue scales, fingers bearing wicked claws, and its face reptilian. Far more dragon than Dragon-born he was; he stopped about eighty yards from the main gate and scanned the walls with his lizard-like eyes. A line of kobolds fanned out behind him, and with their spears, they prodded a score of human prisoners into the dim light. The heroes could only make out the faces of a woman and her three children at the front. Then the half-dragon called out:
“Defenders of Greenest! My name is Langdedrosa Cyanwrath! This has been a successful night, and I am feeling generous. Do you see these pitiful useless prisoners? We have no need of them, so I will trade them back to you. Send out your best warrior to fight me, and you can have them in exchange.”
Sergeant Markguth recognised the woman and children as his own, and wanted to rush down to fight for them there and then, but other soldiers restrained him.
“How do we know you will keep your side of the bargain!?” challenged back Şillic.
“Who do you think I am?” Cyanwrath retorted, “a mere Human or a flighty elf? This will be an honorable fight, warrior to warrior.”
Seeing that the half-dragon’s scales were blue, Rhogar reasoned that Cyanwrath was likely to keep his work since Blue Dragons were known to be Lawful – but that his wrath would be roused should anyone interfere. But who will take up the challenge?
“I will!” vowed Thalek the Druid.
The others looked at him in surprise: had he been stung by Cyanwrath’s elf-insult?
The Keep Gate opened. Out strode Thalek, accompanied by Ishtra, Rhogar, and Şillic. Cyanwrath ordered them to stop inside the shadow of the walls. At his command, the three children were released, and in tears, ran over to the heroes. But the woman was brought forwards by a kobold, holding a wicked scimitar to her throat.
The two champions marched forwards to meet each other in the intervening space. They eyed each other, bright fire to reptilian cold, weapons ready.
Suddenly, Thalek became a giant bear, paws lashing out and ripping into the scales of the startled half-dragon. Cyanwrath threw him off and slashed Thalek with his great sword, gashing open a grievous wound. Enraged, Bear-Thalek leapt and bore Cyanwrath down to the ground and underneath him, and mauled him.
The dismayed kobolds let go of their prisoners, and ran off into the night. The bear shape-changed back to Thalek, as the others rushed over to him to treat his wounds and patch him up. The woman ran into the arms of Sergeant Markguth, who had immediately come out with Governor Nighthill and his escort. The Governor himself came over to them, smiling for the first time since the night had begun.
As the sky brightened, multiple horns blared out. But instead of yet another attack, the signs were that the enemy were finally withdrawing. Torches disappeared. Figures retreated into the town and the misty smoke-laden fog that had engulfed the town. But the Keep defenders were too shattered to pursue. Nor was Governor Nighthill convinced that the danger had passed, suspecting some ruse or ambush that could leave the keep defenseless. He gave the order to stand down. Exhausted men collapsed at their posts. Few left the walls – they were just too tired for that. So, too, were the heroes.
2. Raiders’ Camp
Siege Aftermath
Their slumbers are woken by a messenger. “The Governor would like to see you in the Courtyard.” Şillic cursed, but they all got up, grabbed weapons, and hurried to see Governor Nighthill. Though he was sitting on a chair, with his wounded arm propped up, it didn’t look as if Nighthill has slept at all since the siege ended.
“I should be standing up to greet you,” he half-smiled, “especially after all you’ve done. But I have been strongly advised not to – at least until I’m a bit more whole.”
With his other hand, he reached out for a pewter goblet on a makeshift take nearby, drank from it, put it down again, and then looks back at them. “It seems that the enemy has abandoned Greenest. I have sent some men in to scout, but they have not found anyone, save for some lucky souls who took refuge in a cellar. Escobert has taken more men and has begun to search the town for other survivors. Perhaps there may be others.
“But I am not complacent: we were caught off guard and attacked by an organised army! Where did it come from? Who leads it? and why? Other villages have been attacked in this region, so they can’t have come from too far away.
“I would like to make you a proposal: I will pay each of you 250 in gold if you can track down these raiders, find where their camp is, and find out who they are. I need to know if and when they will attack again.”
At the mention of the gold, Şillic’s eyes lit up. Thalek, however, wasn’t as motivated by gold. He was still shaken by losing Vander. Killing Cyanwrath halped a bit, but still he wished to see if he could find some evidence of Vander’s fate – if only for sense of closure.
The Governor, continued: “If you can recover any valuables stolen from the town, I will be most grateful if you return them. I can supply you with weapons, but not horses. Too many have been lost, and the few I have I am sending to Berdusk for aid. And I would advise that you will need to go soon. I do not want these scum to get too far away.”
And so, barely having rested after the battle, the heroes were off again. But as they prepared their weapons, and checked their equipment, a young man walked up to them in the courtyard, limping heavily on his bandaged left leg. His name was Nesim Waladra, and had been a follower of a Monk by the name of Leosin Erianthar, a monk from Berdusk. Apparently, the Monk had been investigating the raiders for months. Though his followers had fought their way to the keep, Leosin himself disappeared during the fighting. The other monks had gone to look for him in the morning, but all they found was his broken staff, and a choker, that he’d always worn.
“I fear that he may have tried to infiltrate the raiders, or even allowed himself to be captured. No-one understands these bandits better than he does, and his knowledge will be invaluable against them. If you do find the camp, please see if he is there. And if he has been captured, then please get him out – anything you can do would be a godsend!”
And so, with everything ready, and after a quick breakfast, the party of heroes set off through the now-open gates. The guards they passed wished them good luck. As one they stopped and surveyed the devastation before them. The fires in the town were dying down, and the fog was starting to clear, but it would be a long time before the buildings could be repaired and the ruins replaced. The heroes continued heading down the hill into the ash-strewn streets.
Not far in, they were suddenly met by a familiar four-footed friend. It was Belle, Eglarion’s wolf-companion, though she looked disheveled, and her fur was singed. She went straight to the Druid, and motioned to Thalek that they needed to follow her. She led them to a ruined building. Inside, they found the furniture upturned and the place looted. There they found two staves of broken wood – the remains of Eglarion’s bow. There were clear signs of a struggle. There was also a torn piece of cloak. Thalek took a double-take: could it have been part of Vander’s own cloak? No, maybe his own grief was making him see things that weren’t there. He cast it aside, and they left the building.
Once outside the ruined town, It did not take much skill for the heroes to find the way the raiders had taken. The trail was easy to find: a wide swath of grass was trampled down, and it led towards the southeast, and in the direction of the rocky wold known as the Green Fields. They followed it, more determined to find out the fate of their friends.
Eglarion’s Stand
In the darkness, Eglarion ran down the street, bow in hand, Belle beside him, buildings either side, many of which were in flames. He saw shapes ahead – he dived into a side-street and keep running. Suddenly, above him, Eglarion heard the click of a crossbow being fired. He ducked even as the bolt shot passed his shoulder. On the roof above him, the Dragoncult Mercenary cursed and began re-loading his crossbow. With a swift movement, Eglarion notched an arrow, drew the bow, aimed and released – the mercenary vainly clutched the arrow embedded in his chest, and pitched headlong from the roof.
Eglarion continued on down another street, the houses behind him were burning bright, but the ones before him seem unharmed, though seemingly abandoned. Two Kobolds came out of one building, squabbling over the loot they were carrying. The Ranger dived into the shadows, but Belle growled. The Kobolds stopped their argument and went to investigate the growling shadow in the dark. Eglarion shot the first, then followed up with a knife-lunge on the second. Wolf and Ranger continued on.
Just as they were passing another building, Belle stopped, and made a low bark-howl: her nose pointing at the doorway. Eglarion carefully entered the abandoned building. His eyes soon adjusted to the dim light of an abandoned downstairs room, lit by a single lamp hanging from the ceiling. The signs were that someone had left in a hurry, and that it had already been looted: the table and broken furniture had been thrown to the floor, and smashed crockery lay around. But then Eglarion noticed something hidden but glinting gold-bright in the lamplight. Surely not?
It was indeed Theldrak, who was lying there, looking quite content, in a deep sleep. But instead of a dull yellow, his scales shone bright gold – as if he hadn’t drunk the potion that he had been given to dull his scales for at least a week. But that can’t be! thought Eglarion, for he had seen Theldrak drink some of that potion only yesterday! He tred to wake the Dragon-born, but for some reason he could not break Theldrak out of whatever mysterious enchantment that laid upon him.
Then Eglarion heard shouts and running feet. Belle’s bark-howl has drawn unwanted attention! The ranger turned around to face the door as dark-robed, silver masked figures charged in! Belle bared her teeth and leapt to the attack. One Cultist went down. But another entered, and he had a flaming torch. The cultist thrust it at the wolf. Alight, Belle gave a terrible, pain-filled, howl, leapt through the broken window and ran off, yelping into the night. But then More cultists arrived outside the window, cutting off the ranger’s escape. A voice of menace outside shouted a command: “I want him alive! Take him!”
Eglarion raised his hands in surrender, but the cultists grabbed him and laid into him. Fists struck his stomach and he keeled onto his knees. His blurred eyes saw a dark-clothed man standing in front of him. The man was dressed like the Dragonclaw who had felled Şillic earlier, but with more refinement: he wore spiked leather shoulder pads, and his black cloak trail opened out into the shape of elaborate down-swept wings. His hair was cut unusually short, and his cruel visage sneered. He held the ranger’s longbow in both hands, then in front of Eglarion, broke it upon his knee. He looked to Eglarion’s captors and nodded: the ranger felt a sharp blow upon his head, and everything went black…
Interrogation
Theldrek opened his eyes, feeling disorientated. He found himself in a shed of some form, and his hands seemed to be tied in front of him. He could hear faint voices outside. “What am I doing here?” He tried to get up, but it wasn’t easy to do with hands tied. He lay back from his efforts. Then Theldrak remembered.
The inn! The burning! The smoke! Then strange whispering voices, he was grabbed by the arm – and a sudden bright light!
Then moonlight, sunset, and starlight. A cool breeze. Strange people on horses! A wild ride through the night. Green fields, bright lights, vibrant colours! And the gathering in the dell. The Lord and Lady. The food, the wild dancing. The contented and joyous sense that for the first time he was welcome and accepted as who he was – an orphaned Dragonborn. His feet moved to a rhythm of musical wonder and enchantment.
Was it just a dream? Theldrak opened his eyes again. He was still in the shed. He was still bound. Nearby him there was a familiar groan: Eglarion? Is he here, too?
Theldrek suddenly noticed his arms and body. His scales were shining bright-gold. The potion he had been given by his foster-father to prevent that, should have lasted a week!
The shed door flung open. Theldrak blinked at the sudden bright daylight, as the Dragonwing and three dark-robed guards move in, one carrying a lamp which he hooked from the ceiling. The door closed behind them. Eglarion was hauled to his feet by two guards. The third thumped him in the stomach. Theldrak tried to haul himself up to a position where he could breathe fire at the guards, but was clouted hard on his protruding snout for his trouble.
“You are Dragonborn aren’t you?” Sneered the cultist who hit him. “You should be on our side! You should be welcoming our Queen’s Return! You are a disgrace to your kind!”
“No you fool!” spat the Dragonwing. “This one has golden scales he is a Servant of Bahamut, and so is an enemy of Tiamat!”
Then the hard questioning began: Why were you at Greenest? Who are you working for? Who sent you? Are there any others with you? Where are they now? What do you know about the Summoning?
Every silence and unsatisfactory reply resulted in another blow. But there was little Eglarion could say, even if he’d wanted to! Why was he being asked these things? Eventually, he was allowed to collapse to the floor. Then it was Theldrak’s turn.
Eventually, the interrogation ended. The prisoners were left on the floor as the guards took the lamp, and followed the Dragonwing outside. They shut the door and locked it behind them.
Pursuit
The trail had led for many miles over the hills into land of rock formations and deep-sided gullies. Unguarded whispers of smoke gave away the location of a small fire. The heroes carefully moved up to it, to find in a dell a group of cultist stragglers.
Four cloaked cultists, but with their masks off, stood around a fire bickering about whether the rabbits being roasted upon it had cooked enough, and their annoyance at the second group of eight Kobolds who also lurked close nearby. Suddenly, one of the Kobolds darted to the fire, seized one of the two spits that had rabbit on it, and dashed back to his comrades before the humans could stop him. The Cultists shouted after him and cursed, but the Kobolds took no notice. The men realised the futility of making further fuss, and focussed instead on roasting properly the remaining rabbit. This gave Şillic an idea. He whispered his plan carefully to the others, then began to sneak closer to the cultists.
Once in position, he motioned. Suddenly, as if thrown by an invisible hand, the second spit of roast rabbit rose up and was flung, landing by the feet of the startled kobolds. “Oi! That’s it!” shouted the cultists, who grabbed their weapons and charged the kobolds. But though the kobolds were taken aback by this, they soon responded in kind. The fight was swift and vicious. At the end of it four Kobolds and three cultists lay dead. The other four kobolds stood over the last alive but badly wounded and groaning cultist.
The heroes struck. Arrows and crossbow bolt felled the remaining kobolds. Şillic stood over the cultist, rapier to the man’s throat. The half-orc tried to question him, but knowing he was as good as dead, the cultist only spat at him. Şillic did not respond kindly.
The group now knew they were heading the right way. But the long night, followed by the exertion of the pursuit finally got the better of them. To stay and rest for several hours could lose valuable time, but they felt sorely weakened and needed to regain their strength for whatever and whoever lay ahead – or so they felt. They moved away from the dead bodies to a safer place, then leaving Belle on guard, they finally took rest.
Their slumbers were interrupted by the howl of the wolf. A great flock of birds had flown over where they lay, flying on to the mountains ahead and to the south. It was getting late.
Ceremony
The shed door opened again. Guards came in and dragged the prisoners to their feet. Then they were marched out into the brightness of the setting sun. They looked about the large camp they found themselves in. It was surrounded by cliffs on three sides, and many tents and makeshift huts were there. On the forth side, the lowest part of the camp and leading out of the rocky hollow, the huts were crudely built and mounted with animal skulls. Kobolds gathered around them. The other tents and huts looked sturdier, cleaner, and were decorated with painted designs of stylized dragons. A larger tent, more ornate than the others, stood by itself near the cliffs. It was heavily-guarded, as was the mouth of a dark cave far back against the cliff wall. One makeshift wooden watchtower stood upon the cliffs, looking down upon the camp. A second tower stood near the entranceway.
Suddenly, they heard the sound of a low-note droning horn-blast. All the human Cultists and Kobolds left whatever they were doing, and started to gather and move towards the open area near the back of the camp. There, the bound form of Leosin the Monk was staked out upon a diagonal cross-shaped structure, whose higher twin beams were carved in the likeness of dragon-heads. Also standing there was a Black-Cloaked figure – the Dragonwing – accompanied by the horn-blower. Black-robed guards fanned out either side of him, two bearing banners of writhing chromatic dragons. A semi-circle of cultists started to form around the Black-Cloaked figure. Some cultists were in their robes, but many were not; and most were no longer wearing their face-masks. But the mercenaries, and the other hired bandits, did not join the gathering. It was to the side of this gathering, that the prisoners were marched to.
The Black-robed guards, and the horn-blower, moved off on either side, leaving the Black-Cloaked figure standing before the crowd alone. His cruel face was intense: deep set, but with the wild staring eyes of a fanatic. The Dragonwing drew out a wicked-looking curved scimitar, and held it up high, and shouted to the gathered crowd:
Dragonwing:All hail the Dragon-Queen!
Cultists:She who will return to rule again!
Dragonwing:Praise Tiamat, devourer of gods!
Cultists:May her treasure-mound be raised ever high!
He lowered the scimitar, only to make dramatic gestures with it, as he spoke:
“The Dragon-Queen shall indeed return, and we shall rule with her! But there are some who would dare to oppose us! Some who would dare try to prevent the Summoning! Some like this monk, here!” He held his blade towards the bound monk. “What must be done with such Heretics!!?”
Cultists:Kill them!
Dragonwing:What must we do?
Cultists:Kill them!
The Dragonwing turned to the staked-out half-elf, and moved towards him. Standing to the side of the helpless monk, he lined his blade against Leosin’s throat. The monk sweated, but said nothing. Readying the strike, the Dragonwing swung his arm back…
“NO!” Commanded a deep female voice.
All eyes turned. To the left side stood a half-dragon, purple robed, and with dark black scales. An air of command about her. Beside her also stood the purple-robed dark-haired woman that Eglarion had beheld a night ago from the battlements of the besieged Keep. Both were accompanied by many dark-robed bodyguards.
“We will give him tonight to think upon his foolish and futile crimes!”
The Dragonwing lowered his blade. “As you command, Lady Rezmir, Wyrmspeaker of the Black.”
Then guards dragged Theldrak and Eglarion into the semi-circle, and forced them to kneel. “And what shall we do with these scum, Lady of the Purple, Frulam Mondath?”
The dark-haired woman now spoke: “Stake them up with the monk! Come the morning, they are also to be executed! Such will be the fate for all who dare oppose us!”
Other cultists brought up more wooden stakes, more crudely cut and not as elaborately decorated. The prisoners were dragged to them, and bound securely to them.
“You may continue, Dragonwing Zarthor!”
Rezmir and Frulam Mondath turned and departed for the large tent, accompanied by their guards, leaving Zarthor to close the ceremony.
Zarthor:All hail Tiamat the Dragon-Queen!
Cultists:All Praise Tiamat’s Glory!
Zarthor:On that glorious day, she shall rise
Cultists:And we shall rise with her!
The chanting went on for a bit longer, but eventually, the Dragonwing ended the ceremony. The crowd of cultists started to disperse, leaving two guards to watch the prisoners.
The sun was now setting, bright-red behind the western ridge.
Breaking
Upon waking, and preparing their spells and equipment, the other heroes continued to follow the trail. It was now evening, but it was obvious that whoever made the trail were not expecting pursuit this far south – or where they? Not far ahead in the gloom, rocky hills rose up, and between them a narrow defile. Şillic went to scout ahead. He climbed up the slope of near side of the defile, found a place to lie low among some rocks, and peered out. Sure enough, he saw the shapes of one or two heads looking out from the far side of the defile, and the glint of light on steel won by at least one of them. A Rearguard perhaps? A sudden noise behind him! It was Thalek of all people! Despite his light elven feet, he’d managed to dislodge some of the scree, and stones fell down into the defile. Şillic cursed under his breath and looked out to the far side. Whoever they were were clearly alerted.
But then Belle ran into the defile, in such a way that she was silhouetted by the moonlight and seen by those who were watching, howled, and ran back again into the night. This appearance of a wolf seemed to explain to the guards what had caused the scree-fall. Nonetheless, when Şillic and Thalek got back to the others, they advised that the best course of action was to make their way round and over the rocky hills, keeping a wide berth of the defile and the watching guards.
An hour later found them looking down into the hollow of a rocky plateau that was shaped roughly like a horseshoe. Opposite them, across a cleft in the cliffs, stood a wooden makeshift watchtower, revealed by the lighted torches underneath its roof. Below in the hollow, because it was dark, there wasn’t much they could see save the small camp-fires that revealed the clusters of tents and hovels that made up the Raider’s Camp. The way into the hollow was away to the left of them, where the cliff dropped down to the level of the surrounding land. Another watchtower stood guard down there. Noticeably, the eastern side of the hollow was not as well lit as the rest of the camp, though one or two groups of torches could be seen moving down there. The heroes made their plans.
Şillic worked his way around the cleft to the left, without being noticed by the few sentries that patrolled the cliffs. He made it to the base of the tower without being seen. Now it was time to try out more of the spells he had learnt from the scroll he’d found in Nezznar’s lair. The thuds he heard above him confirmed the sleep-spell had worked. Quickly he climbed up to find the three mercenaries were indeed in slumbers. Making sure they would not wake again, he climbed back down again. There at the bottom of the tower, he found a long ladder, lashed to the cliff, and leading right down to the floor of the hollow. Şillic smiled to himself, then worked his way back to join the others.
The entrance of the camp was not far in from where the cliffs started to rise on either side. There was neither fence nor gate, but five cloaked guards were there: three clustered together, and two others pacing the gaps on either side. About a hundred feet behind them stood the second tower, and the first of the tent-clusters. Suddenly, two of the three guards collapsed unconscious. As the two patrolling turned to run to join their startled comrade and find out what had happened, arrows and crossbow-bolts leapt out of the darkness. They were all quickly felled, and dark shapes quickly ensured those who were sleeping would not rise again. Belle helped Rhogar drag the bodies way behind nearby hedges, while Şillic, Ishtra, and Thalek moved quickly and silently towards the tower.
Above them, silhouetted by their own tower torchlights, tow more mercenaries lounged against the parapet, talking in low voices:
“A bunch of weirdos these dragon-worshippers are – still, they pay well.”
“You got any idea when we will actually get paid?”
“With what they took from the last raid, soon I hope!”
“Well I shall be glad when this job is over and done with – those dog-people give me the creeps!”
The conversation was stopped suddenly with carefully aimed arrows and crossbow bolts. Scaling the tower ladder, Şillic found one barely alive and groaning – but not for long.
Şillic climbed down to the others. So far so good. Rhogar soon joined them, leaving Belle to watch from outside the camp. The plan was for Rhogar to climb back up the tower, to make as if it would look like it was still manned. But as he gazed at the wooden and flammable structure, he grinned, his eyes narrowed, and his nostrils began to steam.
“Don’t even think about it!” warned Şillic.
Rhogar broke from his pyromantic thoughts, shook his head, and climbed up the tower.
And Assassinating
Şillic moved ahead to the first group of makeshift tents. On wooden poles stuck in aground around them, skulls of wild beasts leered into the night. A band of Kobolds huddled together around a fire, talking in scaly voices:
“The Pink Wormsss treat us like scum!”
“Yes … but Ssshe is coming … and then we will see!”
Şillic quietly lifted up the cloth of the nearest tent. Kobolds lay inside, snoring. Quick knife-work, and they snored no more. Şillic signaled to the others, then moved to the next tent, slipping inside for some more grizzly work. Oblivious to him, the Kobolds around the fire continued their conversation:
“Did you see how wonderful that dragon wasss? I’ve never seen someone so awesome!”
“Yessss! and I’ve heard it said, if dragonsss breath on your eggs, your eggs will be blessed, and grow to be ssstrong like dragonssss!”
Ishtra and Thalek took care to stay in the shadows, as Şillic completed the circuit of tents, leaving bloody murder in his wake. To Şillic, it was not just a job done well, but revenge. But still leaving the wake Kobolds around the fire oblivious to the massacre, they slipped on towards the next set of structures.
But gorse-bushes lay between the Kobolds and the next set of tents. The sound of their progress through them drew the attention of four Kobolds patrolling nearby, who were pulling along with them a reluctant Ambush Drake. But as the Kobolds approached the bushes, poison spray shot out of the bushes into their snouts! Ishtra rose up with battle-axe in hand and with an awesome swing, sliced the unfortunate beast in half. The rest of the patrol was dealt with quickly.
The second set of dwellings were better made. Sure enough, the group around the fire were humanoid, and in the robes of cultists, though they were not wearing masks:
“Why are we keeping that heretic monk alive? Rezmir should just flay him alive and let his screams lead Tiamat into this world!”
“Aye, the half-elf monk lives. It’s by the order of Rezmir. She wants something from him, though I don’t know what – and I wouldn’t want to be him.”
This time, Şillic left the Cultist encampment alone, and guided the others around it on the cliff-side. Once passed, they could now see into the open area that lay before the cliffs on the east side. Ahead of them, some hundred feet away, they could see the shape of a very large tent, surrounded by many torches, and also many guards robed in black. But to the right of that and much further beyond, they could see two more torches, and possibly one or two small structures standing alone. Quietly, the group crept forwards, following Şillic towards the cliff-side fifty feet to the left of the large tent. On the way, they passed the foot of the ladder that led up to the silent tower high on the ledge above. The continued working their way around until, looking southwards, they could again see the two lone torches. But also to the east of them, they could see another large group of torches by a point on the cliffside nearly two hundred feet away. It seemed that another large group of guards were on sentry duty there, though all the heroes could see behind them was a black shadow in the cliffside – possibly the mouth of a cave. The small group crept to a place roughly between the tent and the cave, and then moved quickly and silently southwards towards the two lone torches.
Up in the tower, Rhogar cloud barely contain his excitement. Even though speaking with the dragon was awe-inspiring, it had also been an experience verging on terror. But here he was now, infiltrating an enemy camp, and flammable structures all around. Oh how he could make them all burn and light up the sky! He could make them all burn! But then these wild flights of fancy were quickly suppressed by memory of Şillic’s menacing look.
But as they crossed the open space before them, luck looked as though it was about to leave them. Coming the other way, another group of torches. Their bearers were armoured and black-robed, and leading them was the Dragonwing, Zarthor. They were moving towards the heroes with purpose. Zarthor was speaking to one of the guards:
“The security around here since the raid has been much too lax! Anyone could have walked in yesterday! Some followers seem to think and act like they’re on a holiday!”
Barely ten paces away from the heroes, he looked up and saw them:
“You there! What do you think you’re doing here! You know this area is out of bounds during night curfew! Get back to your tents!”
“Yes sir!”, they mumbled in reply, turned, and made off as if they were doing what they were told. Zarthor and his detachment continued their march towards the large tent:
“As I was saying, the security around here is much too lax!”
When the heroes were sure it was safe again, they turned once more, and headed back towards the two lone torches. Ahead of them, they could now make out the shapes of wooden stakes, and bound forms upon them. They could also see the two guards, and marched towards them. The guards saw them in turn and challenged:
“You there! You are not supposed to be here!”
Obediently, they turned around and started walking the other way. Suddenly, they spun around, and Şillic threw forwards his hands, sending acid in their faces, even as Thalek and Ishtra sprang forwards to deal with them. The rogue followed, rapier drawn.
Theldrak came-to, just as the last guard’s body hit the floor. Then there was Thalek before him, cutting him loose. Eglarion and the monk were also set free. Leosin rubbed his wrists: “So much for subtleness!”, he said sarcastically. Şillic said nothing.
Then Ishtra had an idea. She hauled the body of one of the guards to a stake, and hoisted it up. The others did the same with the other. Then supporting the freed prisoners, the heroes started heading back to the cliff and ladder leading to freedom.
It was then that cries could be heard, coming from the Kobold part of the camp. They hurried their pace. Despite his ordeal, Leosin seemed to recover quickly, and soon insisted on walking unaided. The number of cries in the camp was growing.
From his vantage point, Rhogar could see the growing commotion. Kobolds running around, screaming. Some were even running towards other tents to attack the humans there. The whole camp would soon be in uproar. Rhogar decided it was time to leave.
One by one, the others climbed the ladder to the cliff-top. Then they left the tower and melted into the night.
3. A Well-earned Rest
Avoiding the Cultist Rearguard again, the companions made their way back to the camp that had previously belonged to the stragglers. Dawn saw them take a short rest, before they recovered the items they’d earlier buried there. Then they set off North, moving as quick as they could, wary of any signs of pursuit.
Eglarion’s Wolf-Companion, Belle, was clearly delighted to be reunited with her master, and led the way. With Eglarion strode Şillic, who had an unusually satisfied smile. Leosin the Monk had shown a remarkable ability to recover, and was helping Ishtra with supporting Theldrek. Not so happy, though, was Rhogar. His was racking his brains to remember all he had learnt about the Cult of the Dragon, and felt he has missed something somewhere: surely the Dragoncult were into resurrecting dead dragons? And Thalek? He was enjoying the clear skies, the warmth of the sun – and that his elf-ears hadn’t heard anyone after them so far.
Patrols of mounted mercenaries did indeed try to pursue them, but the heroes successfully evaded them, and eventually made it back to the ruined town of Greenest. It was barely two days since the attack, but already there were signs of recovery. Houses that were beyond help were being pulled down, rubble and ash were being cleared away. More townspeople had been found and rescued, hiding in cellars and other places, and temporary shelters had been constructed. An advance force of cavalry from Berdusk had also arrived, and were helping the town guard patrol the streets – many of whom had left their weapons to help with rescue and shelter construction. The group could also see the visible sign that summary Justice had been carried out: from the walls of the keep hung the bodies of cultists and other raiders that had been captured and executed.
The heroes were escorted to a makeshift encampment in the market square. There, Governor Nighthill had set up his headquarters where he personally led the effort to help the town recover. Currently, though, he was being fussed over by an elderly half-elf, who, when they arrived, was berating the Governor for doing too much while he was supposed to be recovering from his wounds.
Nesim Waladra, and his fellow-monks, were overjoyed to see the return of their master, and ran to Leosin, thanking the heroes for rescuing him.
The elderly half-elf was immediately distracted by the state of the monk, Eglarion, and Theldrak; all of whom had been prisoners of the Dragoncult. She came over immediately. She was the Herbalist, Fieth Thistleberry, who upon hearing of the assault on Greenest, had ridden back in disbelief, to find the town in ruins, people murdered, survivors in shock, and her own home destroyed. But she had learnt in the past not to give time to self-pity when others were suffering. Instead, she "rolled up her sleeves", and had got on with the task of helping the sick, wounded, and bereaved, leading by her personal example.
Though a half-elf, many years of toil and travel have left careworn lines across her face, and yet her hands still remain smooth and gentle: "the hands of a healer" as some claimed. Around her neck, partially hidden by her hood, they could see that she wore a simple stone pendent engraved with a semi-circle struck through.
Governor Nighthill heaved himself from his chair: “I wish that woman would stop fussing and leave me alone – it is but a scratch.”
“It’s more than a scratch, you obstinate fool!” Fieth, retorted.
He ignored her, and turned to the heroes: “So what did you learn?”
“That we’re in serious trouble!” Şillic replied. “They have a massive camp barely a day from here, and they could attack again at any moment.”
Grim-faced, Governor Nighthill took in this news. “It is as I feared. These raiders were far too large and organised to be mere bandits. Well, there is not much we can do about them at present until the Army from Berdusk arrives. But when I can, I want to send detachment of cavalry to keep watch on these raiders. We must know when they plan to strike again!”
Leosin was listening intently, and exclaimed: “There is much more that I’ve learnt!”
But Fieth hurried him away. “Not now! It can wait. You have been badly hurt, and though Monks have amazing stamina, still you are mortal and need time to recover. Now be off with you!” Leosin tried to protest, but saw it was no use, and was led away.
Governor Nighthill personally thanked the heroes. As agreed, he gave the money he’d promised them. He also ordered that a proclamation be made in the town, honouring the heroes, and praising them for their courage and daring. “But now you must all get some rest, too”, said the Herbalist, who had returned. For once, Şillic didn’t mind being bossed.
Makeshift sleeping quarters in abandoned dwellings were found for each of them, and finally they were able to make up for the lack of sleep they’d endured. Ishtra wasn’t hurt that much and soon recovered her strength. Unable to stay in bed, she found work helping with the clearing and rebuilding. Once she did relax, she practiced playing her flute – being careful to stay out of Şillic’s earshot. Thalek the Druid spent time meditating outside the town, and helping with the care of traumatised animals who had survived the assault.
Eglarion woke up, to find Fieth Thistleberry sitting beside him. “You’re healing fast,” she said, “though your Dragonborn companion is not recovering quite so well. It will be a few more days before he’s up and walking again. You’ve both taken some nasty knocks.”
The Ranger sat up. “Fieth Thistleberry, the Herbalist?”. She nodded. “I’ve been sent to find you. My village needs help! Baron Chalmes deWitt asks for your aid against a plague that is affecting our livestock. He said you’ve helped us once – please help us again!”
Fieth settled him back down in the pillows. “Shhhh! All in good time. You need to rest – and it will be quite a journey back. I will come to your village, but,” she added gravely, “there are other darker matters that press us. Now you must rest.”
“But where have you been?” Eglarion asked. “I have been looking for you. They’d said you’d gone off on a journey.”
“I did,” replied Fieth. “When I head that the villages of Denning and Appleton had been attacked destroyed by bandits, I set out to bring what aid I could to the survivors. But their reports that the raids were not by orcs, as originally reported, but by cloaked bandits allied with Kobolds, disturbed me greatly. Even more so when I found a silver dragon-shaped mask, apparently dropped by one of the raiders. It was then that I realised who was behind the attacks. I hurried back when I heard that Greenest had also been attacked.”
“But why has the Cult of the Dragon resorted to carrying out such wickedness?” she seemed to be speaking to herself. “I wonder what that monk knows?”
She turned back to Eglarion. “But you must rest now.”
The Monk’s Request
Şillic was up and about again, his half-orc constitution not taking long to to recover. He was just discussing with Governor Nighthill about taking a mounted escort to spy on the bandit camp, when Brother Waladra came with a request to see Leosin Erlanthar. When Şillic arrived, he found the others were also there, except for Theldrak. He was still recovering from his ordeal at the hands of the dragoncult. Leosin himself was out of bed and moving again, but was clearly agitated about something. It didn’t take long to find out what.
“So what do you know about the Dragoncult, and what they are up to?”
By now, having rested and found time for recollection, Rhogar had a much better idea about what they were up against: “What they want to do is mad!!”
Şillic raised an eyebrow. “Explain?”
“Normally, the Cult of the Dragon seek to enslave dragons as "dracoliches" – dead dragons with which they think they can gain mastery of Faerûn. But now they want to release Tiamat, the Queen of Dragons, from the Nine Hells, and back into the world. Should she return, she will unite the evil Chromatic dragons, and usher in an age of terror!!”
“And this we must stop!”, interrupted Leosin, with grim determination. “I have been investigating the dragoncult, and their recent increase in criminal activity. When I found out about the raids, I came quickly to Greenest knowing it would be their next target, but I and my followers had barely arrived before the attack begun. I slipped in among them, hoping to infiltrate their camp, but Reznir the Black recognised me all too soon, and I was captured. Still, during the interrogation, I learnt more from them than they did from me!”
His memory of the pain he’d endured was momentarily visible on his face as he grimaced. But then he relaxed, and turned again to them, his measured composure restored.
“I believe further answers lie in the back of that cave that they so strongly guard. I’ve seen wagons of booty go in, but nothing yet has come out. And whenever Mondath herself goes in, she is always in her purple robes, as if there’s something in there she’s devoted to.
“After all you’ve done for me personally, and for the people of Greenest, I hate to ask anything more from you But the need is great, and I dare to hope that you can aid me one more time. I need you to return to the cultists’ camp. You know your way around it now. If the cultists are preparing to conduct another raid, or a large body of them marches away, or if anything substantial is carried in or out of that cave, I need to know. And I don’t recommend getting yourself captured,” he added with a wry smile.
“I would go with you, but my current state will only hinder you all. Nor”, he adds with a wince, “will Fieth Thistleberry let me, even if I could! Instead, as soon as I can, I am going to ride with an escort to the Holy City of Elturel. There I wish to consult with Brother-Captain Ontharr Frume, a Paladin of Torm, god of Righteous Courage: I understand that he also has concerns about the schemes of these Dragon-cultists. Meet me at Elturel – and I will see that you are well-paid!”
And so it was decided that the heroes would be granted horses from Captain Nighthill, along with a small escort of Burdusk Cavalry, and ride back to the enemy camp. Theldrak, however, was still in a poor state, and would not be going with them. Instead, he would be riding with Leosin, accompanied by Fieth Thistleberry. Fieth had detected some residue of enchantment upon him, that made him still sleepy, and she didn’t yet understand why.
But as the heroes were preparing to set out, Fieth approached Eglarion, carrying in her hands a long wrapped package, and gave it to the Ranger. “Take it!” she urged. “For though it has served me well, I am no longer as strong as I once was, and now you will have more need of it than I”.
Eglarion unwrapped it, to find within a finely-crafted Longbow.
“This was once made by Copper Elves who survived the destruction of Eaerlann, long ago. But though ages old, it still shoots true. There are few like it now in Faerûn!”
The Silent Camp
Back down the track they rode, accompanied by the Cavalry of Burdusk, but wary in case any foe was coming the other way. They arrived at the camp where the stragglers had been, but all that was left of the cultist and kobolds were flesh-stripped bones. Further on, they soon approached the rocky defile. But rather than alert the rearguard ambush, they instead made another detour around and over the flanking hill.
On sighting the top of the tower near the camp entrance, they stopped, moved out of view, and dismounted. The tower did not seem to be manned. The camp also seemed unusually quiet. Was this a trap? Belle was sent to investigate. It didn’t take long for the wolf-companion to return. From her barks, they gathered that the camp was empty of life.
They approached warily, to find that the camp was indeed abandoned. The huts and tents had all gone, rubbish was scattered all over the place, and in the centre of the camp were the ashes of a big bonfire. The evidence suggested that the camp had been abandoned in a hurry, with wagon-tracks leading out of the camp in different directions. Then the wind changed, and they gagged at the terrible, rotten stench coming from behind a hill outside of the camp to the south.
Since the cavalry were on-loan from Berdusk, they had been given strict orders to find the raiders’ camp, but not to enter it, and Şillic could not persuade them otherwise. So instead he arranged for them to stay behind and watch for three hours, before they returned to report to Governor Nighthill that the raiders had gone.
Hoisting their weapons, the heroes made their way through the remains of the camp towards the cliffs at the far end. But as the ground rose, Thalek’s elf-eyes saw a faint glow deep in the apparently-unguarded cave ahead. They stopped, and instead worked their way around the cliff-side so that any watchers inside the cave would not see them.
Finally, they made it to the forbidding mouth of the dark cave that led into the rock-face of the cliff. The entrance was board and tall, but not far inside, it looked as though the ceiling lowered to a height of about fifteen feet or so. The heroes prepared their weapons, and then took up positions outside the cave, line abreast. Then they strode forwards together.
Underground Undergrowth
Ishtra was aware of the faint wind outside, moans across the entranceway. From somewhere deep in the caves, she could hear the faint sounds of dripping water, scratching rodents, and scrabbling lizards. She looked down, and then crouched to see what she’d found: wagon track-marks.
A faint glow of torchlight shone further ahead and around a bend in the cave passageway, revealing the presence of sentries. The heroes spread out on either site of the cave, and behind natural pillars formed of stalagmites and stalactites. Sure enough, two Cultist Dragonclaws were on guard. Şillic grimaced, remembering what these fanatics could do. But this time, the heroes had the advantage.
But a careless footfall alerted the guards. Not sure yet what had caused the noise, the cultists came around the corner to investigate. Thalek shot an arrow, but uncharacteristically for the elven druid, missed. Rhogar started the muttering of a spell, but somehow only his nose began to bleed instead. The first Dragonclaw saw the arrow fly passed him, and then the Barbarian silhouetted by the daylight behind, and charged. But calmly Ishtra stood her ground, swinging her axe around at the last moment into the cultist. The other turned to run but was brought down by Eglarion’s first shot of the Eaerlann bow, and then quickly finished off by Şillic before he could scream.
Around the corner, they found the passageway widened again, with the floor stopping suddenly at a ledge that led down to the floor of a larger cavern. Investigating, the southern end Şillic found a narrow passage, almost hidden by a fold in the rock, leading back as if towards the cliffside. Thalek, however, saw something more to his interest: the larger cavern’s floor was carpeted with a profusion of fungi. Some were a few inches high, others as nearly as tall as a human, and they were different shades of florescent colours. He skipped down the roughly hewed stone stairway to the bottom, and went to investigate. Eglarion followed after him, though with a more measured tread.
CLICK went something under his foot. Suddenly, the stairway collapsed, sending the Ranger sprawling down into the cavern-growth – and right among some violet fungi. Purple tentacles reached out to entangle him.
Ishtra saw what happened, leapt from the ledge into the mass of cavern-growth, and proceeded to hack her way to where Eglarion was enveloped. Thalek looked up, and swiftly vaulted to the rescue of the Ranger. This time, Rhogar got his spell right, and threw balls of fire down among the violet fungi. Şillic also began to weave his hands into a spell – that suddenly exploded, throwing the half-orc backwards off his feet. Eglarion tried to free himself from the tentacles, only for more to wrap themselves around his throat, attempting to choke out his life.
By the time a singed Şillic got back off his feet, the fight was over, and all the violet fungi had been shredded or burnt. Eglarion was not in a good way, but a healing potion soon had him back on his feet, though battered and bruised. Now they were all down in the lower cavern, they continued on through the path that led through the fungi.
The cavern narrowed a little, then widened again, into a smaller chamber dominated by three more stalactites joined to the ceiling. The Fungi stopped abruptly before this chamber. Now strewn across the floor, the small dark shapes of dead bats lay. Thalek looked up. Above them, all over the ceiling, a large brood of bats hung, apparently asleep. were there other things among them? The elf, shuddered, remembering a night a moon or so back when winged creatures glided silently out of the night to interrupt their sleep. He motioned to the others the danger. Quietly, they crept their way over the floor.
Again the cavern narrowed, then widened again into another chamber. Again the far side of the floor ended with a ledge dropping down to a lower chamber, which in turn led another ledge dropping to a third chamber below. From the chamber they were in, a narrow passageway led in a direction they assumed to be North, while a another narrow passage to the South led to a flight of stairs. And up these stairs they could hear a low growl: something climbing with large feet, proceeded by the pad, pad, pad, of smaller feet.
Eglarion slipped to one side, and readied the elf-bow. Rhogar and Thalek stayed where they were, ready to face the threat. Şillic dived into the north passageway, followed by Ishtra. Şillic suddenly stopped: right before his foot the stone floor looked unusually uneven and crinkled. He stopped to check. Sure enough, it was not stone, but a sheet of parchment in the colour of stone, and underneath lay a small pit of stakes that were probably poisoned. But there was now no time to go around – the enemy was upon them!
Rocks and Lizards
Up the stairs came two Kobolds, larger and with wings. Being dragged behind them came a reluctant drake, larger than the Ambush Drakes the heroes had fought before, and with a huge prominent horn protruding from its nose. But this Guard Drake was no longer reluctant when it saw the intruders, and roared.
Having earlier cast Barkskin upon himself, Thalek now transformed himself into a bear again, which roared back, and then launched himself at the lizard. The Kobolds dived out of his way, grabbed rocks in their clawed hands, and took to the air. The cavern was large enough for them to fly above the heads of Eglarion, and Rhogar, and then drop their rocks upon them; but both the Ranger and the Dragornborn dodged the badly-aimed rocks. Rhogar sent back a fireball that the Kobold dodged in turn. Eglarion, however, spun around, swiftly drawing and loosing the Bow of Eaerlann, striking the other winged Kobold in the chest. Enraged, the kobolds drew knives from their belts and dived towards the faces of their would-be victims.
Maddened by bear-claws to its snout and eyes, the Guard-Drake swung its tail wildly, only to miss the agile bear and strike itself hard in its lizard-chest. Thalek would not give it a second chance, even as Ishtra arrived to aid him. Şillic also remerged from the passageway, even as the Winged Kobolds were finally slain.
Regrouping, the heroes decided to investigate where the Kobolds had come from. Down the steeply-descending stairs they crept, this time led by Şillic, who was lookout for further traps. He did not find any, but instead there lay to one side a broken spear with a rusty pitted blade. Not much use for a fight! At the base of the stairs, a curtain hung across the passage. It was made from hundreds of heavy leather strips, each about the width of a human hand. The strips were fixed to the ceiling, and long enough to drag on the floor and extend from wall to wall. A faint smell of rotten meat came from behind it.
“Hmm, I don’t like the look of this!” thought Şillic. He stopped, and the others halted behind him. Then, muttering long-lost words and weaving his hands, he caused the curtain to open. Immediately the smell of old blood assaulted their noses. The floor of the chamber beyond was covered in dry puddles of it. From floor-to-ceiling columns hung chains, and from those chains hung the carcasses of gutted and skinned antelope, deer, goats, possibly big cats, and even small bears (this did not please Thalek, who was still in bear-form). The terrible stench suggested much of this meat had been there for quite a while.
Şillic withdrew his Mage-Hand spell, and the curtain fell back in place. They decided to return up the way they had come – in so doing, they had missed the small barbs concealed among the curtain leather.
Upon reaching the top of the stairs, there was debate over where to go next. Ishtra walked to the edge of the descending steep ledge and looked down.
“What do you see?”, called Şillic. “Is there anything down there?”
Ishtra peered down, looking vainly into the chamber below, and the chamber below that. “I see nothing!”, she replied.
Şillic was clearly irritated, perhaps forgetting that humans could not see so well in cave-dark as he could. “Then why don’t you go down and have a look!”
The barbarian looked at him. Then she unwrapped the rope around her, fastened it to a rock, and climbed down. She drew out from her backpack a second rope and used it to descend the next ledge. Then she disappeared from sight.
The others waited for her for what seemed quite a while. “I wonder what’s happened to her?” said Rhogar. “She seems to be taking her time!”
“I don’t know,” replied Şillic, “but we can’t go anywhere if we leave this rope here. Someone will find it, and know someone is down there.”
Eglarion looked at him. “But we can’t just leave her down there! Whatever happened to ‘We’ll all stick together’?”
Down below, Ishtra found herself in what could only be described as a rubbish dump. The floor was covered with all sorts of refuse: broken pottery, rotted baskets, discarded clothing, worn boots, tattered ad blood-splattered books, cracked lamps, and all sorts of useless rubbish. In the flame-light of the torch she’d brought with her, see espied some things glittering among the rubbish. She reached down and pulled away torn worn clothing and mouse-chewed rope. All she found underneath were buckles bereft of belts. She cursed, but was also still smarting from Şillic’s curt words, and continued searching among the rubbish. It took a good while before she found something of actual worth – a well-made leather pouch that still remained sealed. She picked it up, and felt through the leather. She felt her diligence and persistence rewarded by the hard lumps of stones contained within it.
Bear-Thalek growled. Something had alerted him to the presence of someone down the northern passage. He loped off to investigate. Eglarion and Rhogar followed.
“Don’t go too far ahead!” warned Şillic, “there’s a crude trap ahead in the floor!” Then Şillic quickly hauled up the rope, and stowed it, before going after them.
Warned by Şillic, the others had seen and avoided where the spiked trap lay. But they were now waiting in the shadows before where the passage opened into another chamber. There was indeed somethings present in there, and the chamber itself was lit by low flickering lamps. The rasping voices revealed they were kobolds.
Ishtra reached the top of the first ledge, and pulled up the rope behind her. Then she turned and moved to the second ledge, only to find the rope was no longer there. Vainly she searched around. What treachery was this? Once clear in her mind that the rope was indeed no longer there, she stepped back, psyched herself up, then ran and leapt high for the top of the ledge. Her fingers locked in place, she exerted her considerable strength and hauled herself up. At the top she unshouldered her axe, and strode North.
Bear-Thalek charged into the group of four kobolds, throwing them this way and that. Their winged leader leapt into the air, only to be shot through the neck from a single shot of Eglarion’s bow. the others charged, and the fray was soon over. Thalek changed back into himself, even as the others looked around. The cavern floor they were on was part of a long platform. To the right, another long ledge led down to darkness below.
“So who’s going down this time?” said Rhogar, sarcastically. Şillic didn’t answer. Just then, Ishtra ran in and stopped, eyes smoldering and axe ready in both hands.
“Well?” said Şillic, in a matter of fact voice. “What did you find?”
“Since you left me down there and took the rope,” Ishtra retorted, “why are you interested?”
Şillic shot back: “You got back up. So, did you find anything?”
“It was a rubbish dump full of rubbish”, the Barbarian reported, sullenly.
Şillic was getting exasperated. “Did you find any gold or gems or treasure?”
By now the others were getting concerned at the way this conversation was going.
Ishtra relented. “This was the only thing of value I found.” She handed him the pouch. Şillic opened it and poured into his palm six ornamental gems. The others relaxed.
It was only then, that Eglarion realised that Belle was not with them.
The Return of the Warlock
Theldrak was incensed when he found out he was to be left behind. The Herbalist, Fieth Thistleberry, was insistent about this, concerned that the lingering enchantment upon him might be malignant in some way. Fieth was also worried by the strange dream that Theldrak had recounted to her – The Lord and Lady and the wild dancing. If this was some doing of the Fey, then why and what was their purpose? For the ways of the Faerie Folk, wondrous though they could be, were seldom comprehensible and to the benefit of mere mortals – least of all to dragonborn. What mischief was at work?
But Theldrak was having none of it. Maybe it was impetuous of youth, fired up by the rough treatment he’d received at the hands of the Dragoncult? Or was it because so many times he’d felt excluded and left out? Whatever. He feigned compliance, and returned to bed as instructed. But it wasn’t long before his restlessness got the better of him. Tying sheets together, he was able to climb out of the window, and down into the near-empty streets. With local soldiers still aiding the clearing and shelter construction, it didn’t take long to find a sword unattended. More difficult, was to find a horse unguarded. Men called out after him as he rode out of Greenest, but no-one followed him. He rode on, following the trail that led south.
He was nearing the rocky hills and its defile, when he saw a troop of horsemen riding back the other way. They were the Berdusk escort. He hailed them as they approached, and they stopped briefly. After waiting in vain for Ishtra and the others to return, they were now riding back to report to Governor Nighthill that the campsite was abandoned and that the Raiders had gone. Theldrak thanked them for this news.
Vander and Jameena were still making their way along the cliff-side to the entrance of what had been the camp, when they saw a lone horseman approaching. They ducked behind rocks. But then, peering out, Vander could not but help notice that this hooded "man" had limbs of gold shining out from his clothing. Was it that Dragonborn he’d tried to help before? Who, despite his efforts to conceal him, had been captured and staked up with the monk? And who had later during the Kobold fight, been found to have escaped? There was only one way to find out!
“Wait!” urged Jameena. But Vander had already got up and was frantically trying to find his way down to the bottom, fast.
The Dragonborn seemed not to notice him. Instead, he tethered his horse, took a sword from the saddlebag, and immediately strode forwards towards the cliffs at the back of the abandoned camp, towards the gaping mouth of the cave. Vander followed.
It was only near the entrance, that Theldrak finally stopped, and turned. He saw the black-cloaked stranger and at first was minded that it was one of the cultists who had returned. But the figure walking towards him did not show hostile intent, and indeed, called out a greeting: “Wait there!”
“Who are you?” replied Theldrak, brandishing his sword.
The stranger continued towards him, throwing back his hood. Something was familiar about the elf-gaunt face. Something he’d seen in a dream…
“I’m the one who rescued you,” replied the stranger. “I’m the one who took you through the portal. Those wondrous folk you saw? I am their servant.”
Theldrak put down his sword, as memory of choking smoke, a twilight land, and the great feast came flooding back. And then he remembered the stranger.
Vander caught up with him, and they embraced, as long parted friends. But as they started to share news, Vander suddenly remembered his other companion, and turned to introduce her. But she had not followed him, and there was no sign.
“Jameena!” he called out, but only the cliff-echos answered back. “Jameena!” He called again, but again only her name returned back as if in mockery from one gone. He turned back to Theldrak, shrugged his shoulders, and then they both stared at the cave.
Three Guards were stooped over the bodies of the two Dragonclaws. The Cultists saw the two intruders, and immediately jumped up with weapons drawn: “There’s the murderers!”
One came at Theldrak, but the Dragonborn still had the sword drawn, and quickly lunged out, running the Cultist through. Even as the man fell towards him, Theldrak grabbed him and threw him into the other two cultists bearing down on Vander. One dodged but the other was bowled over. Vander held out his hand. The Fey-Sword appeared and glowed within his grasp and as he swung to strike. The other guard was soon dispatched, too.
Theldrak took the opportunity to strip one body of armour and shield, and take them for himself. Just as he’d finished shaking the hauberk into place (being a little tight across the chest), they heard the pad, pad of animal paws. “Belle!” exclaimed Thedrak. The she-wolf was also pleased to see him! Belle climbed down, moved towards the edge of the drop, then motioned for them to follow her down the stairs and through the fungi field. They could not but help notice the clear signs of struggle and remnants of mangled fungi.
***
Thalek finished checking the last of the dead Kobold bodies. “Not much here, either.”
The others looked around. They were in the upper area of another large cave. The raised section they stood on was long and narrow, and leading North-West. Further along, a passageway led westwards up a stone stairway. The other side of the ledge ended in a steep drop down into a darkened area below. Down there, somewhere in the gloom, they could hear shuffling and snuffling. On the edge of the cave, a stairway led downwards, enclosed overhead by a metal cage, with a locked iron gate at the bottom. A key hung on the peg nearby, inviting them to investigate what was kept in the darkness below.
“Do we need to go down there?” questioned Şillic. “There must be a good reason why it’s caged off”
“Why not?” Replied Eglarion. “Not afraid of anything down there, are you?”
Just then, they heard the familiar patter of wolf-paws. Sure enough, Belle loped in, followed by Theldred. Eglarion sighed when he saw him. But following him, was the cloaked figure of the warlord. The lamplight revealed his face.
“Where the blazes have you been!!?”, said Şillic, with uncharacteristic astonishment.
Fire, Clamour, and Chanting
Though the greetings were warm, Vander didn’t want to share yet what had happened to him. After all, deep in a dangerous dungeon wasn’t exactly the place for what could take some time to tell. And Eglarion didn’t want to wait around to hear it, either. Grabbing the key from the peg, he moved down the stairs to the gate. Theldrak went with him; Şillic went after them, stopping behind them long enough to mutter and wave his hands. Eglarion tried to the key, but something seemed to hold it in the lock. Thinking it was stuck, he asked Theldrak to help him with it. But try as they might, the key would not budge. Behind them, Şillic held back a rare grin.
Snuffles beyond the cage!
“What we need is some light down there.” Observed Thalek. “What about Faerie Fire?”
“No.” replied Vander. “Faerie Fire lights up creatures – not caves.”
Rhogar’s ears perked up. “I can help with the fire – but I need something to burn.”
“Then you shall have it!” responded Ishtra.
She unslung her backpack, and drew out an oil flask. Rhogar’s eyes light up red. The Barbarian threw the bottle down into the darkness below, where they heard it smash. Rhogar breathed in, then breathed out. Despite the gloom, his flames were spot on, and immediately sudden fire roared up from below. Three large Guard Drakes squealed, and were seen fleeing away into the unlit darkness.
There was a clamour behind them, Vander, Thalek, and Ishtra turned to see Kobolds pouring out of the West passage, followed by two with wings, and alerted by the noise.
“There’sssss the intrudersssss!” they hissed.
They were too close for effective magic. One Winged Kobold flew at Thalek, who swiftly dodged. The other flew at the Warlock. Vander dodged too, but in doing so, was off-guard at the stabbing jab of the Kobold in front of him. He winced, held out both hands, and swung the Fay-Sword straight down, severing the creature’s neck, swiftly followed by a thrust between the eyes that left the Kobold’s head skewered on the blade, as it collapsed.
Şillic leapt up the stairs, pausing at the top to unleash a fireball. It shot passed the flying kobolds, to explode with harmless force against the cavern-face above the attacking mob. Following him, Theldrak ran to the left of the developing melee and launched himself at a Kobold, arms outstretched, seeking to grapple the creature. But the cave-dweller was canny and slipped away from his grasp. Eglarion ran up too, swiftly drawing out an arrow to shoot. But even the Elf-Bow could not shoot true with little time to aim.
Ishtra swung her axe high into the air, cleaving a winged kobold to the ground. Eglarion’s second arrow was better aimed and brought down the other. More Kobolds and two more Winged Kobolds entered the cavern to join the fight, but by now the heroes had overcome their surprise. The Kobold fighting Theldrak suddenly keeled over, impaled by a rapier from behind. “That’s how you kill a Kobold!” Şillic smirked.
A search of the bodies revealed only a few copper coins. “They must have more somewhere!” said Thalek in disgust.
Theldrak made for the west tunnel. “Then let’s find out where they came from!”
He headed up the stairs. Şillic ran up after the impetuous youth. Too late! As the Dragonborn’s foot hit the final stair… Click!! Rumble! Rumble!
Behind him, the ceiling crashed down, right upon Şillic who had no time to jump out of the way. The Half-Orc was buried.
Below, the others heard the sudden rumble and crash; and dust billowed out of the passageway. Alarmed, Eglarion ran up the stairs to find Theldrak removing the rocks covering Şillic, and apologising profusely.
Şillic got up, dusted himself down, and glared, but said nothing. They climbed up into the lamp-light room at the top of the stairs. It was clearly the room where many Kobolds had dwelt, and was a complete mess of rags, bedding, and broken furniture. The others joined them and they searched the room, finding many gold and silver pieces that they took; and jewellery and necklaces made of bone that they discarded as worthless. Şillic, however, did not search: he stood with his back to the wall, sharpening his knife.
Another passage led out of the room, southwards down winding stairs. Theldrak started heading down them. This time, Eglarion followed him – keeping back a safe distance! The others followed. The stairs wound onwards and downwards. At the bottom was a long tunnel. At the other end, a turn to the right led to another set of stairs heading down and then around to the left. It was then that Theldrak and Eglarion heard the sound of chanting. Word was passed to the others.
Şillic finally spoke again. “Well then, go and find out who’s making the chanting!” Whereupon, the young Dragonborn headed downstairs, turned another left corner, and found himself walking straight into a large wide hall – and it wasn’t empty.
Sorcery in the Shrine
The cave chamber had been enlarged and reshaped from its original form. The floor and three of the walls were smooth, and stalagmites and stalactites polished into gleaming columns, lit by the torches bracketed into them. Every surface glistened with moisture, and the air was warm and humid. The flat walls of the chamber were decorated with shallow abstract carvings of dragons – all of different colours. They seemed to lead the eye to the large mural in the north-west corner, of a large multi-headed dragon rising forth from an erupting volcano. A steel-strengthened wooden chest lay before it.
Between the square formed by the Pillars, a group of men were kneeling, led in worship by a familiar woman that Theldrak could not forget, though she had her back to him. She wore purple robes, and though her black hair was tied back, he recognised her as none other than Frulam Mondath, Rezmir’s right hand cultist.
The cloaked men turned their heads to face him, stood up, and threw back their hoods. Mondath herself spun around and glared at the intruder. She waved her hands in front of her. Despite the depth underground, a wind began to blow. Then it howled and whipped around and round as darkness in front of her. Within the vortex, Theldrak beheld ghastly forms, fiend-like, shrieking.
Daunted by these apparitions, but enraged by recent memory of his treatment by Mondath’s followers, the Dragonborn avoided the vortex, and charged around and between the pillars in front of him to assail the cultists. “Infidel!” they responded, grabbing large two-handed axes that they’d laid upon the floor, seeking to surround him and cut him down. The pillars hindered their attempt to encircle, but still he was hard-pressed.
The others heard the clamour below. Şillic swore, they drew their weapons, and charged down the stairs. Eglarion was first in, running in to lunge at one cultist working around the pillar to get behind Theldrak. Another Cultist charged at Eglarion, only to find Belle bound into him with bared jaws. Thalek vaulted over Belle, landed on his feet, and aimed an arrow. But the howling vortex thwarted the bow-shot. Mondath laughed.
As the others joined the fray, the Cultists themselves went berserk. Recklessly they wielded their axes, heedless of their own defence. Vander was last into the room. Seeing the vortex, and Mondath behind it, he raised his own hand. Within his grasp a shimmering glowing green spear appeared. Pulling his arm back, he threw the eldritch weapon through the vortex and into the chest of its invoker. Mondath gasped and recoiled at the strike. Even as she fell back, the vortex dissipated, and the Spirit Guardians within vanished.
But the Cult leader quickly recovered from the shock. Straightening herself, she saw Thalek was the closest, and swung her arm at him. A luminous Spirit-Sword materialised in front of the Druid and struck at him. But the wily elf dodged even this magical attack.
Now Ishtra became enraged. Brandishing her battle-axe, the Barbarian, too, leapt over Belle, albeit with less elf-grace, and charged towards Mondath. The Cult Leader stepped back even as two of her followers ran to stop Ishtra from reaching her.
But then, the cultist that fought the wolf-companion swung his axe in a vicious arch and struck Belle in the side. She howled and collapsed, blood seeping from the gash. Şillic leapt forwards, arm outstretched, lunging at the cultist, his blade piecing the chest of his foe and passing right through. But the uncaring berserker, hardly seemed to feel the steel, his insane eyes disdaining the strike, pulling back, swinging his axe. Theldrak was now beset on two sides by cultists. Eglarion locked in combat; Belle continued to bleed.
Rhogar, caught at the back of the fighting, saw an opening to strike Mondath with a sorcerous ray. He pointed towards her, and a streak of light leapt out. But something was wrong: instead of being struck down, the Cult Leader instead seemed to grow stronger in stature, and she laughed! With annoyed determination, the Red Dragonborn drew from himself a further surge of power and threw his finger at her again. This times the ray blew Mondath off her feet. Even as she struggled to get up, Thalek became a bear again, shook off his attackers, lumbered over, and leapt upon her. She screamed.
But Belle was still bleeding, and her laboured breathing lessened; she gave off one last mournful howl and her head fell back to the floor.
Knowing she had little time, Ishtra broke off her battle. She turned around and leapt away back towards the stricken wolf. Four cultist blades swung out at her, hitting only air. Reaching Belle, she threw down her pack, pulled out a phial, and rammed it between the near-lifeless wolf’s teeth. The Potion began its live-saving work.
Even though their leader was dead, the cultists did not surrender. Eventually, the last gasped and fell to Şillic’s knife. The shrine went suddenly silent.
Dragon Acid
Frulam Mondath, a key leader of the Dragoncult, and Rezmir’s second in command, lay dead – blasted by magic and mauled by a bear. The dead bodies of the Cultist Berserkers also lay sprawled across the floor where they fell. The bear turned back to Thalek. Belle, the wolf, finally got up again, though at first a little wobbly on her feat. The gash in her side had closed miraculously, though a large scar cut across the destroyed fur.
Despite the fighting, they could not help but notice that some of the walls in this underground shrine were smooth, and decorated with carvings of dragons. Now, with battle over, they could not help but look around them at the many different dragon-murals all around the room: some single, others writhing around each other, and of different colours – though black dragons predominated on all the walls. Many dragons were depicted as flying, but all of them looked as though they were heading towards the largest of the murals near the north-west corner. There stood the depiction of a large volcano, wreathed in fire and smoke, and erupting with lava. From its caldera, a huge shape rose forth: a large dragon, multi-headed, each head the colour of a different Chromatic Dragon: Red, Blue, Green, Black, and White.
At the foot of the volcano image, sat a large wooden chest, re-enforced with bands of steel. Further beyond, a narrow way led out and curved around to the west. But on the far side of the shrine, a wide staircase led down to another large dark chamber.
At the foot of the volcano image, sat a large wooden chest, re-enforced with bands of steel. Further beyond, a narrow way led out and curved around to the west. But on the far side of the shrine, a wide staircase led down to another large dark chamber.
Ishtra was uneasy. All her Barbarian senses told her that something was not right about this room. Her eyes swept the room, and the dragons, warily. Rhogar, however, was fascinated with the larger mural of the five-headed dragon, and stepped towards it. “This can only be Tiamat, the Queen of the Dragons, who has been banished to the Nine Hells.”
Thalek also felt uneasy, and especially with Rhogar’s revelation. This shrine felt like a place of Blasphemy, and more evil than that he had felt in the presence of the abomination in Castle Cragmaw. Though dragons were considered by many druids as part of the natural order, still their very presence could bring ruin, change, and corruption to the very lands around them. And Tiamat herself was not a natural dragon.
Vander was next to speak. “I wonder if this was what my fey-patrons, Tarwythen and Yandredh meant?”
Şillic turned. “What do you mean?”
Vander continued, his eyes closed, as if in a trance: “‘There are misguided mortals who wish to release the Queen of Tyranny’”. He opened his eyes again. They shone.
Şillic himself didn’t care too much about dragons, but he also felt uneasy about the room. Something is not right here, he thought. Especially about the Black Dragons in particular.
But he was also curious about the large chest at the feet of the volcano. What treasures could lie within? He walked towards it. He could see that the chest could be opened by a single lock. The keyhole was large. Şillic drew out the key he had retrieved from the cage during the earlier Kobold-fight and balanced it in his hand. No, too small. Vander searched Mondath’s remains, but no key could be found – and nothing else for that matter. Şillic considered alternatives: should I use my tools to try and open it?
It was then that Eglarion, examining one of the black dragon carvings, called out: “There’s a hole here, right where the Dragon’s mouth is!”
Theldrak ran to another Mural: “Here’s another hole!”
Şillic spun around, put the key away, and also went over to examine the other murals. Sure enough, he found that all the black dragons had holes where their mouths would be – the black paint hiding the dark holes from a cursory glance.
“What do you think?” asked Thalek. “Fire?”
Rhogar answered. “Black dragons don't breathe fire.”
“Acid!!” hissed Şillic.
“Tamper or move the chest,” observed Ishtra, “and acid will pour out!”
Everyone stepped back from the walls and the chest.
Şillic briefly considered the use of Mage Hand to try and open the chest. The risks were too great. “We need to find the key.”
Sticky Bombs
They looked down the wide stairway. Down below, they could make out another large cavern, but this time shrouded in darkness. Şillic led the way, and from his night vision, could see that the stairs ended on another ledge that stretched out in front of them, with a drop down the rest of the cavern on the right. Halfway along the ledge, another set of stairs, enclosed in a cage, led down. Torches were on the walls, but were not lit.
He also noticed that ahead of them, the ledge ended before it reached the far wall – suggesting another drop. But Ishtra’s eyes, sharpened by seeking danger in the wild, also saw movement there. She signaled a quiet warning. Eglarion peered past her and this time thought he saw the snout of a Kobold, trying to hide. He whispered what he saw.
After the big battle they had fought earlier, Şillic was not in the mood for a fight against mere Kobolds. Nor was he sure of their number. He strode towards the steps, but as he did so, he chanted strange words under his breathe, and sent the sleep spell forth.
From the far side, thuds as unconscious kobold bodies hit the floor.
A few moments later, BOOOM!
Another explosion also lit up the back wall.
They ran over to find that the ledge ended at an open pit. Not below, their torches revealed the charred remains of kobolds, and broken pots around them. The kobolds had been caught in the blast of their own fire-bombs!
Possibly woken by the explosion, new snuffling sounds could be heard coming from the darkness of the larger lower cavern to their right.
“Should we go down there?” Rhogar asked, himself not being sure.
“Let’s first see what is down there, first,” replied Thalek.
Şillic smirked. “Why don’t we throw one of these Kobolds down there?”
This time, Ishtra did not fancy climbing into the pit, so Eglarion did instead. It was only then he found splattered around the pit floor and kobold bodies was a sticky substance that had also been contained in some of the pots. He hauled up to the others the most intact body he could find. They grabbed it, and flung it down into the darkness below.
They heard multiple sounds of slithering. They looked down, and in the dim light from Ishtra’s torch, they saw snake-like tentacles reach out of the darkness, wrap themselves around the body, and then drag it back int the shadows. Then came a munching sound.
“Well,” said Şillic. “I don’t think we want to go down there yet! Let’s explore further.”
Before they left the room, Eglarion found a key in the pit, possibly dropped by one of the Kobolds. But again it was too small for the chest-lock, though it was the right size for the gate at the bottom of the stairs. While he was also down there, he tried to recover one of the broken pottery shards that still had the glue on it. The group thought that this might be useful in the future, so they scooped some into the now-empty pouch that Ishtra had found, and shut it with a squelch.
Back to the shrine they went, before Theldrak ran on ahead through the narrow west passage that suddenly turned right and climbed steeply upwards. The others followed. The passageway opened up into a small chamber cut into the rock, and was clearly lived-in. Most likely, it had been Mondath’s personal study, for the chamber was furnished with drapes of dragons on the walls, and thick rugs on the floor. There was also a stool and writing desk, covered with papers. Ishtra, Şillic, Rhogar and Vander gathered around the take, while Thalek kept watch on the passage behind them, while Egalrion took point watching the other passage that continued on.
If there’s something that Şillic valued from the "family" in Baldur’s Gate, it was that he’d learnt to read. However, right now, he was regretting this, as he read aloud what was written upon the first parchment:
Roses are red.
Dragons are red.
They breathe fire,
And then you're all dead.
“What is this!!?” said Şillic in disgust, throwing down the papers.
Vander read further, to find that most of the other papers had similar bad poems about dragons. Seems that this Mondath had been trying to express her dragon-obsession in verse:
O, Red Dragon, how do I love thee!
Let me count the ways
How you burn the buildings
Rip down the Temples
Lay low the citadels
And trample on the wealthy
How your eyes shine with fire!
And your wings hurricanes
Your scales adamant
And your breath brings death!
“No more no more!” interrupted Rhogar, trying to cover his large reptilian-ears.
“Hang on,” questioned Ishtra, “what’s this?” Among the papers she’d seen a map, and also another parchment covered in ancient numeric numbers. The map was of the lands around Greenest, and drawn upon it in red, circles marked both the town and the other villages that had been attacked and looted by the Dragoncult. Also of note, though, was an "X" presumably marking where the cave was. A series of arrows lead westwards towards the coast, which then met the main thoroughfare known as "The Coast Way", before following it northwards to Beregost, then the City of Baldur’s Gate, and on and upwards until it left the map.
Just then, warning from Eglarion! Someone was coming down the other tunnel. Theldrak dashed over to join him. Sure enough, more cultists were coming, perhaps alerted to suspicious noise in their mistress’ room. The Druid raised his hands and flung a Thunderwave down the passage. The earthquake shoot the tunnel, and its occupants, showering them with debris from the ceiling. When the shocks ceased, only two cultists were still standing. Eglarion shot the nearest. The other turned and tried to stagger away, only for Belle to bound down the tunnel after him, and bring him down.
“What’s this?” exclaimed Theldrak, who during the confusion had dived into an alcove, to find it stretched around into a narrow bedroom. He’d also found another chest.
“Don’t touch it!” warned Şillic.
Standing back, he used Magehand to open the lid. This time it was not locked, and easily opened. Inside, from where he was, all Şillic could see were purple robes. Theldrak, however, was closer and could also see the large, dragon-shaped silver key lying on top.
He picked it up, showed it, and gave it to Şillic. He also picked up one of the robes: “Do you think I would look good in this?”
But Şillic was already striding out of the alcove. Theldrak dropped the robe and followed him. Şillic also motioned to Rhogar to follow as well, and they headed back to the shrine.
Ishtra was still studying the last parchment. “There are letters hidden among the numerals!” Together, she and Vander read out the following:
“Freight north to Naerytar Keep pearls ring six stones / Rezmir”
“Rezmir is the name of the half-dragon leader,” remembered the Warlock.
“So the looted treasure has been moved to somewhere called Naerytar.” observed Ishtra. “But where is that? And what about the pearls, ring, and stones?”
“I think I can answer that!” said Şillic, walking in triumphantly. He had used magehand again to turn the large key and unlock the chest in the shrine. Once he was sure it was safe, Theldrak and Rhogar had opened it. Inside they had found a pearl neckless, a gold ring that was inlaid with a sapphire, and a small pouch containing half a dozen masterfully cut and polished gems.
Eglarion and Thalek returned. With Belle they had gone further up the tunnel to find it led to a larger rectangular chamber that had served as the Cultists’ barracks. The others followed them, this time Theldrak at the back, for he couldn’t resist taking the purple robes. Beyond the barracks, another passage led northwards. Şillic recognised it as the near-concealed passage that led back to the cavern entranceway. Branching off to the West, another passage led to another large chamber, similar to the barracks, save that this was almost square. It was also virtually empty, save for a few overturned boxes, broken items, and scattered coins. If anything had been stored there, it had now gone.
Virtually empty save for a cloaked figure, lying on the floor and snoring loudly. And also save for two backpacks and a small pile of familiar gear.
Theldrak and Eglarion ran over to the backpacks. Sure enough, the backpacks were theirs’ and had been stolen from them when they had been captured. The two checked over everything that was there. The Ranger was annoyed to find that both his signet ring and tooth-charm were missing. And I know who has them! he thought angrily to himself.
The cultist was clearly under no spell save alcohol and was soon awoken. Şillic was none too gentle with him, and soon found out that, following the break-in and rescue of the monk and the other prisoners, the camp had been ordered to break up quickly, and looted treasure stored within the caves had been loaded back onto wagons that had already left camp. He did not know the destination, nor where Naerytar was.
The heroes left the caves, and rode back to Greenest. There the Governor gave them a warm welcome, though he also warned them that both Leosin and Thieth had already left for the Holy City of Eturiel, and had asked for the heroes to follow. The prisoner was handed over to the not too tender care of Greenest Justice.
The next day, the company mounted up again, and set off for Eturiel.
4. The City of the Second Sun
Elturiel! City of the Second Sun! And the bright orb in the sky is unmistakable as you approach. Known as the Companion, long ago it appeared, saving Elturiel from the Vampire Host that had nearly overrun it. Now it still shines high above – an immobile orb that illuminates the city with constant daylight.
If Şillic disliked the place for that, he liked it even less for the numerous number of noble Paladins drawn to Elturiel by its holy reputation. Not long after entering the light of the Companion, the heroes were met by a squadron of brightly armoured knights riding up the road. The Paladins were far too haughty for the half-orc’s liking, and even Ishtra seemed uncomfortable, having developed an aversion to organised military discipline back in Baldur’s Gate. The Elf-brothers, Vander and Thalek seemed nonplussed by this human display of pride. The others, though, were clearly impressed. Better play it cool, Şillic reasoned to himself, as they answered the questions and were allowed to pass.
The city itself stood upon a hill overlooking the wide River Chionthar. At the centre of the city, directly under the Second Sun, rose a steep cliff-faced tor. Upon its summit, the Castle and High Hall of the most senior Knight, the High Observer. From the castle, a stream cascaded down a series of waterfalls, becoming a moat that flanks the Eastern Docks, before finally joining the Chionthar on its meander down to Baldur’s Gate and the sea.
The heroes rode up to the gates, to find themselves expected and admitted inside immediately. But instead of being sent to the headquarters of the Order of the Gauntlet, they found themselves instead directed to a tavern: A Pair of Black Antlers. Notably, like other dwellings in Elturiel, the windows are covered in elaborate drapings to reduce some of the brightness from the glowing orb high above. They dismounted, and the horses were taken away by eager and helpful grooms, to rest and feed in the stables.
In the lobby, they were met by a familiar face.
“Welcome, my friends!” greeted Leosin, warmly. Then he became serious. “I must introduce you to Ontharr Frume, Knight Commander here of the Order of the Gauntlet. He is not like other Paladins around here. You will find no pretensions with him, and nor is he impressed by such, which is why I like and trust him. But he has a true warrior-heart and has survived many battles. What impresses him is not pretension, but true prowess, provable skill, and honest courage. I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that! But don’t insult him either – we will need more people like him on our side in the dark days ahead.”
The monk led them into the common room, and then to a large alcove with a large table. Sitting with a large flagon in hand, the broad shouldered and larger than life paladin wiped the drink from his bearded lips. He saw them and raised his flagon in loud greeting:
“Ah, so these are the heroes who rescued you from the dragon cult! Come, sit down, all of you. Tomorrow we have much to discuss – but now’s the time for drinks! Now where’s that barman? Ah, there he is! Silverbeer!! There’s my man! More ale please – and especially for my guests! What’s that? You elves prefer wine? Silverbeer, please bring the best wine in the house! No, not the Elturiel White, bring some of that Red stuff from Tethyr!”
Şillic relaxed. Now this was one Paladin he could actually get along with.
The Council at Elturiel
The morning dawned. The heroes were treated to a handsome breakfast, the likes of which they’d not had for too long a time. But inevitably, the morning moved on and they made their way to the Halls of the Valiant. The Guards there were clearly expecting them, and they were soon ushered into an anteroom, with benches provided on either side to sit down on as they waited. Though it felt like ages, it was not that long before the Knight Commander’s Squire arrived, bowed briefly, and then led the company through carved double-doors into a large vaulted round room. Adorning the ceiling, bright painted murals depicted scenes of individual acts of heroic struggle, and always the symbol of the Second Sun. In front of them was a plain circular but finely polished wooden table. Already seated around it, Ontharr, Leosin, and Theith. Ontharr’s countenance was no longer as open as it was, and indeed was now quite serious. They sat down, and goblets of wine were placed before them and filled by servants; who then departed from the council chamber.
Leosin opens the proceedings:
“My Lord, My lady, and honoured friends! Ever since the young Calishite, Severin Silrajin, took over the leadership of the Dragoncult, they have become much more active. Before, we knew them as a group of misguided devotes who sought dragons to reanimate as undead dracoliche corpses, in response some dubious prophecy. But instead of petty crime and extortion, these last months have seen them gathering in strength on the Sword-Coast, both north and south, to raid and pillage at will.
“There are rumours among the cultists that this Severin was not only able to meet Hoondarrh, the Dragon known as the Red Rage, speak with him and live, but also that he then found a red dragon-mask that is said to give him the ability to speak with red dragons. Since then, it is said that agents of the Cult are scouring the lands looking for other masks. But that doesn’t explain either the sudden increase in violence.
“My order, the Harpers, have long been aware of defenseless villages and towns being attacked suddenly and looted far back in the north. But when similar incidents were rumoured from here in the south, I was dispatched to find out if they were also the work of the dragoncult, and if so, why? And so I made my way to Greenest, where I slipped in among the raiders who attacked it – to find the raid was indeed organised by the dragoncult. Unfortunately, their Half-Dragon leader, Rezmir the Black, recognised me and I was captured. And there I would have been slain, if it wasn’t for your valiant rescue. But there was much that I did not learn, save that Rezmir now has a Black Mask, and that the Cult of the Dragon are prophesying the return of Tiamat…”
“And who is this Tiamat?”, Ontharr interrupted.
Leosin looked to Rhogar, whom he knew was also learned in Dragon-Lore. Rhogar hesitated at first, then spoke: “Tiamat is the queen of the evil dragons – the Chromatic dragons known for their colours of Red, Green, Blue, White, and Black. She is depicted as having five heads – one for each of the Chromatic dragon races. Tiamat is also known as the Dark Lady, and even the Nemesis of the Gods; and during the Time of Dragons, she waged terrible war against Bahamut, who led the "Good" dragons…”
“If any dragons can be called 'good'!” Interrupted Ontharr. “But continue!”
“It is said that Tiamat was betrayed, and now languishes in Avernus, the first layer of the Nine Hells. The Cult of the Dragon seem to now think they can help her escape.”
“So why”, questioned Onthar, “is the Dragoncult interested in freeing this Monster? Do they foolishly think they can persuade her to become undead for them in gratitude?”
“Because,” replied Leosin, “should she return, the Dragon-Queen is said to have the power to summon all evil dragons back to her and unite them. Think of it – an army of dragons devastating the world! It is power, not knowledge, that the Dragoncult now seek.”
“My fellow Harper Agents report that a Calishite, Severin is now the cult leader, and is known as the First Wyrmspeaker. He is searching for other dragon-masks, and may have already found others. To north and south, cultists are not only involved in serious crime, but they are also attacking and looting settlements that are poorly-defended, and gathering their plunder. Where are they taking it, and what do they plan to do with it I wonder?”
“Well we do know,” responded Vander, “that the cultists who attacked Greenest are moving their loot to Baldur’s Gate and beyond. We found this note and this map.” The warlock took out from his robes the map and decoded message that the heroes had found in the caves.
“Well, whatever they are doing with it,” continued Leosin, “it seems the Dragoncult have allies: Red wizards of Thay have been known to work with the Dragoncult. Indeed, one Necromancer, Rath Modar, is rumoured to be helping the cult find the masks. Is this the sign of an unholy alliance between Severin and the Lich-King?”
At the name 'Rath Modar', Vander exchanged a glance with his brother, Thalek, but said nothing further. Ishtra was startled, but quickly suppressed it. Şillic, half-asleep from all this talk, stirred, but otherwise looked as disinterested as ever. Somehow, both the Monk and the Paladin missed these clues. But the look in the Herbalist’s eyes suggested she hadn’t, but wasn’t going to press this.Instead, she raised another issue.
“My Emerald contacts report that Agents of the Zhentarim have also been seen in places where the dragoncult has been active. It is really bad news if the Black Network are also involved in these crimes!”
Eglarion shuddered at the thought of both red-cloaked necromancers and black-cloaked assassins working together with the cultists to rule the world with dragons. Theldrak voiced his own growing fears:
“Is it possible that the plague outbreak in Nentir is linked in some way to all this?”
Thieth smiled in a grim way. “We do not know. It may be, though it maybe not. I myself intend to go to the valley and find out, and bring what aid I can. But your road now, I believe, will be to go elsewhere.”
“So what of those who might oppose this unholy alliance?” questioned Onthar. “Surely the Lords of Baldur’s Gate and Waterdeep must be aware that something is amiss.”
“The Lord’s Alliance indeed knows that something is amiss,” replied Leosin, “but is still not yet aware of the danger. The City-states are too busy squabbling among themselves, and the recent unpleasantness in Netherwinter, and scandal in Waterdeep, hasn’t helped.”
“Grand Duke Ravenguard of Baldur’s Gate seems to be flexing the muscles of the Flaming Fists, what with the recent establishment of a cavalry squadron south of the Werewood. We’ve yet to see how the High Observer will respond to this militarization of the border.
It would seem that the Lords would prefer to sit and wait, and see what might develop.”
“For our part,” responded Onthar, “The Order of the Gauntlet are not happy with the activities of the Dragoncult. But most of the Order’s members are for battle and war, not scheming and subterfuge. That’s where I’m different. If evil hides in the shadows, then into the shadows I will go with my crusade until I finally root it out! Nonetheless, I need to provide my superiors with evidence that the Cult of the Dragon do indeed pose a major and tangible military threat to Order in the Swordcoast. Then we will act – and when the Companions ride out” – Onthar smashed his fist into his hand – “the enemy will know it!”
Now it was Thieth’s turn: “The Emerald Order are more concerned with the natural order, rather than the ways of wealth and power. But when nature itself is threatened, then we act! But we are a loose-nit organization, and it will take a while before we can gather our numbers. Though be sure of this: the return of Tiamat will upset the whole natural balance, and must be stopped.”
And then Leosin again: “Our numbers are not what they once were since the last attempt to suppress us. The Harpers are also dispersed among the lands, and have no central authority. As we wake up to the evil plans of the Dragoncult, we will be on your side. But this will take a while.”
“But now,” said Onthar, “while we gather our strength, we must find out more about our enemies and their plans. We need to know where the Cult of the Dragon are going with all the loot they stole, and what they intend to do with it. And we need your help for this.”
He turned and looked to each of the heroes. Even Şillic was fully awake now. He could see this was coming, and he was not sure he liked it. So, if they were to undertake another dangerous mission, what was in it for them?
As is if divining his question, Leosin reached into his own robes and brought out a fine-stitched pouch. He opened it and dropped into his upturned hand a magnificent, beautifully-cut ruby worth, Şillic guessed, over a thousand in gold! “Should you accept this mission, this ruby will be waiting for you in the hands of a Harper Agent in Waterdeep.”
“But the Cult of the Dragon already have several days’ head start!” exclaimed Eglarion in dismay.
“But at some point,” replied Leosin, “they must cross the River Chionthar if they are indeed travelling North. From the map they left, it looks like they will cross at Baldur’s Gate.”
Onthar continued: “Sailing Barges often travel up and down the river between Elturiel and Baldur’s Gate. I can fix you up with one, which should help you catch up. It will take three days to get there, if it ties up overnight for safety, and two days if it risks pushing on though the night by lamplight – which can be perilous. But I’m afraid horses cannot be taken aboard. I have a contact in Baldur’s Gate: a human trader known as Ackyn Seleborn. He operates a business in the Outer City, in the north distract known as Blackgate. He may be able to help you get back on the trail of these cultists. I will also provide you with 50 gold pieces each to cover expenses, and any weapons and equipment you require can also be found for you from Elturiel’s Armouries. You are of course advised to change your appearance in simple ways, such as a change of clothes – especially those of you who were captured before by these unscrupulous ruffians.”
This then was agreed: That the heroes would travel by barge to catch up with the Dragoncult wagons at Baldur’s Gate, they would trail them northwards, find out where the cultists were going with all the stolen loot, and if possible, prevent that loot from arriving. For whatever the cultists planned to do with it, it couldn’t be good.
Meanwhile, Leosin intended to travel north immediately to bring his news to the other Harpers. Ontharr would continue trying to convince the High Observer of the peril; and Thieth would journey to Nentir valley to see what could be done about the plague.
Onthar’s Games
After the meeting broke up, food was brought forth. Ontharr Frume was back to his larger-than-life self, and waxed lyrical about the martial prowess of Elturiel’s Paladins. He also challenged the heroes to prove their prowess to him with impromtu trials of strength, dexterity, and cunning during the afternoon. This was too much for Şillic, who decided instead that his best use of time was to oversee the preparations and provisioning for the trip. He also sought to find a contact whom might send a message on his behalf to "old friends" back in Baldur’s Gate, but in that Holy City of Paladins, there were none. So instead he decided to meet with the barge captain. A menacing growl, and the captain of the Riverswan soon knew who was boss. The rest of the day both he and his crew gave the half-orc a wide berth. Şillic liked that – but not the prospect of the voyage. He also learnt something that was not to his liking: it had been many days since the arrival of the last barge to have come up the river from Baldur’s Gate.
Meanwhile, Rhogar, not being given much to physical prowess, decided to also excuse himself from the "entertainment". Instead, he found his way to the Halls of Knowledge and there sought out books to further his research into dragons – and the ones he sought in particular. And although he did not have not much time to thoroughly search the library, he was excited to find a copy of the book “On Great Wyrms” written by the legendary authority on Dragonkind, the Wizard Velsaert of Baldur’s Gate (now deceased). Eagerly, his eyes gleamed yellow as he skimmed through some of its pages. Some things he learnt there were exhilarating, some worrying, and others puzzling.
Onthar was having a wonderful time – and believed his guests were, too. He was not a man given to idle boasts, preferring instead that people proved what they said they could do. And so he really enjoyed holding trials of prowess such as the ones he was putting on now. Furthermore, Paladin though he was, he loved to raise the stakes by offering wagers. Ishtra won the first wager – an arm-wrestling contest which saw her matched against Onthar himself. But if he had any hard feelings at losing, he didn’t show it. The next contest was archery, which Ishtra also took part in, and although Eglarion outshot even the best of Onthar’s Guards, Ishtra’s arrow travelled even further, but still it was the elf-sharp eyes of Thalek that won the gold.
“I am told, Master Elf, that Elven Druids have special affinity with animals, and that they can calm even the wildest of horses. I would like to see that!” challenged the Paladin. At his command several men dragged into the courtyard a horse that would buck, lash out, and was clearly distressed. But it did not take long for the soothing tones of Thalek’s voice had the horse virtually eating out of his hand. Onthar was most pleased.
“And I have something to show you!” challenged Vander. “See that guard over there – I will bring you back his dagger.” The Warlock approached the guard quietly, then, almost upon him, Vander waved his hand over his face, his body-shape changed, and he stepped boldly right in front of the guard.
“My Lord! I confess I did not see you coming!”
“Then you should have been more alert!”, berated Knight-Commander Onthar – except it wasn’t. He physically looked over the startled guard’s uniform, berated him further at the lacklustre polishing, and marched off, leaving the poor guard’s head swimming in confusion at this surprise-inspection.
Vander became himself, smiled, and handed the dagger to the real Onthar Frume.
After the contests, Ishtra made her way to the armoury. But they did not have the specific kind of weapons she sought, especially a dagger that a woman could conceal about her person. For this was a city where knights and valour were held in high esteem, not subterfuge and skullduggery. But as she made her way back to their lodgings, she noticed also a site rarely known in that city – an aged man, wrapped in long tattered robes, begging. She offered to find him food, and did so. He received this gratefully.
“Thank you kind woman. Now if you excuse me, I have something to give to you.” And with that, he pulled out from his tattered robes a long package, wrapped in cloth, and tied with cords. He handed it to Ishtra. “Do not unwrap it yet! But you will have need of it, soon.”
The next morning, the Riverswan cast off, and the wide river current took the barge downstream. The heroes were finally on their way to Baldur’s Gate. The first day’s journey was uneventful, though the wilds known as the Fields of the Dead stretched out to the north, and the shadow of the Werewood loomed in the south. Most of the group took their ease on deck, leaving Şillic alone at the prow. He took out the ring that he’d secretly found on the doppelganger’s body, back in Castle Cragmaw, and fingered it, staring particularly at the bat-shaped jewel. He knew what it could do, and had thought again about using it. But still it did not seem to be the right time or place. Instead, he put it away, and looked out across the water.
Nightfall came. Not wishing to lose time, the heroes were for pressing on. Not wishing to go up against the force of personality that was Şilic, the captain was persuaded to sail on through the darkness. But though at times bats wheeled about the boat, their night-voyage passed without incident.
Battle on the Barge
The second day along the river began in mirky mist. “Not unusual,” assured the boat captain, as the crew changed watches. But the sight that met the Riverswan further down the river was unusual. Among the reeds on both port and starboard, wrecks of other river-vessels loomed out of the brightening gloom, black and broken.
The mist started to lift. Suddenly, a flash and a loud crash of thunder! Right above their heads. But it was not followed by rain, but by blown horns and harsh guttural cries. Şilic recognised as a call to battle, Splashing, the sound of oars dipped in water, and then low boats out of the mist appeared.
“River Pirates!” The captain shouted in alarm.
There were four of them, each with six or eight orcs aboard, coming straight at them, two each side of the boat. Şilic knew he would be using both spell and blade, and passed his bow and quiver to Theldrak. The young dragonborn had forgotten to equip himself as Frume offered, but at least he still had a sword.
Ishtra acted first and fired a bolt from her crossbow striking an orc in the chest and pitching him overboard. A volley of arrows flew over the boat, or fell short. Clearly the orcs had difficulty compensating for the swell as they loosed their bows. Not that the other heroes did much better. Eglarion, uncharacteristically, missed with his bow and Vander, distracted by the swell also missed with his eldritch spear.
There was only time for one spell before the orcs would be alongside but which to cast. Şilic considered thunderwave, but the boats were too far away so he settled on his trusty sleep spell. Two orcs yawned and fell overboard as they slumped down. Thalek summoned the elemental power of the air and sent forth a lightening bolt and blasted three more orcs overboard. Rhogar contemplated his new spells, copied in the library at Elturiel, arms waved and a ball of fire leaped from his outstretched hands and exploded in the middle of an orc barge engulfing it in flame and incinerating the orcs aboard, not even having time to leap into the water. The look of delight and surprise told all that he hadn’t realised the power of the spell. No time to ponder it now the orcs were almost alongside.
The Orc shaman completed his incantation and the largest orc glowed, clearly the chief, with a shimmer of power. He leapt from the barge and swiftly closed with Şilic, thrusting his blade forward. Şilic dodging as best he could, but was unable to avoid the blade-swipe that pierced his leather armour. Ishtra, wild eyed, rushed forward and swung her axe high into the air. She brought it down against the orc and swung it back quickly to catch him again. Armour scored and dented, the orc laughed it off. Seeing a chance Şilic stepped forward and found a gap in the orc’s armour with his rapier. To his Surprise the orc just grinned at him as if he’d only been tickled.
Several hapless orcs fell into the river as they misjudged the swell and leapt short of the boat. Others, however, made it aboard. Vander summoned his Pact-Blade from thin air, and swung at an orc closing with him. Meawhile, Theldrak, abandoning the bow, decapitated an orc with a swift strike of his sword.
Thalek, not yet engaged in melee, had time to cast another lightening bolt at the Shaman. The air fizzed and crackled but the Shaman dodged the full force of the bolt. Rhogar was swiftly brought back to reality when a second fire bolt leapt from his land, only to fizzle and go out – perhaps it was the swell!
The swell indeed! More orcs floundered in the water, their heads bobbing in the swell before sinking beneath the surface. A few scrambled to their boats and clung on for dear life before finding the strength to clamber back aboard.
Others meanwhile made the perilous leap between craft and engaged the heroes. The Chieftain again swung at Şilic, finding his mark even as Şilic bobbed to side-step the blow. Ishtra swung her axe and mis-timed the swell landing the blow onto the chieftain’s shield and, rebounding back, toppled from the boat. An Orc, seeing a chance to gain favour with his chief rushed to attack Şilic. The wild blow knocking Şilic off balance and against the guard rails, though the wooden fencing saved him from swimming practice.
Thalek, seeing Şilic surrounded and off balance, rushed to his aid and smote the chieftain another sharp blow. Two orcs closed with Rhogar thinking that they had an easy target of an unarmoured sorcerer – but it was then that Rhogar cast thunderwave.
The unexpected effect of the spell exaggerated the heavy swell of the river and pitched the boat widely. The orcs, already finding the rocking boat difficult, found themselves tossed overboard by the sudden bucking of the craft. Even their chieftain hit the water with an angry bellow. Rhogar himself was also caught off guard. Even as Ishtra tried to climb back aboard, the sorcerer plummeted past her into the water behind her! But now the boat was clear of the orc-menace, who were floundering in the river-current.
Cursing, the Chieftain managed to grab one of the orc boats. The Shaman, chanted wildly, tried to grab hold of him, but the Chieftain wounds had sapped too much of his strength: he lost his grip and slipped, cursing under the water. Thalek, showing no mercy to the orc river pirates, now cast a lightening bolt into the river. The remaining orcs shrieked in pain at the sudden heat, lost their grip on the boats their clung to, and also slid beneath the water.
Ishtra finally pulled herself aboard. Pausing only to haul up the spluttering Rhogar, she grabbed her fallen axe off the deck, and leapt onto the orc craft with the Shaman. Swinging high the weapon, she brought it down upon the chanting orc, smiting him down.
Battle over, Ishtra threw up a rope and tied the boat to the barge. The others helped her back aboard. The remaining two boats were soon added to the flotilla. Sheepishly, the barge crew came back on deck, having spent the battle cowering in the hold. Their faces also told of the panic they had suffered when the boat had shuddered from the Thunderwave.
With one look, Şilic made his displeasure, and disdain of their lily-livered fear, felt; the captain quailed. Suddenly, Şilic let out a laugh and slapped the captain’s back, “You’ll make a tidy profit from this trip” indicating the barges tied astern.
The crew were soon back to their posts and getting the barge underway again. Leaving behind the orc-bodies floating in the water, they pressed on to the city of Baldur’s Gate.
The Low Lantern
Eventually as late afternoon turned into early evening, the shape of Wyrm’s Rock loomed into the distance. Upon a high rock, rising out of the waters, was a square fortress. From it, high pillared arches spanned the river to North and South, forming the only bridge across the River Chionthar for many, many miles. Any merchants seeking to cross had to pass through the cleft tunnel of Wyrms Rock, from whose battlements hung the blue banners of Baldur’s Gate, and the red emblems of the Flaming Fist Mercenary Company that served as the City’s guard.
As their barge passed under the arches of the bridge, a sense of foreboding and uncertainty settled on Şilic. What would his reception be from his "former colleagues" be? Did he have any surviving friends in the city? Probably best to be cautious and not approach anyone directly.
He was not the only one apprehensive at returning to the City: When Ishtra signed up with the Flaming Fist Mercenary Company that guarded the City, her skills in the wild were noted as valuable when she was posted to one the outlying settlements that bordered the moors known as the Troll-Claws. But her unconventional ways had also gained the ire of one rather stuck-up junior officer, Luther Reddance. The incident that led to the death of her closest friend only made the enmity worse and personal. Upon her company’s return to Baldur’s Gate, this had exploded in the fracas in the Splurging Sturgeon that led to her dismissal. She bit her lip to draw herself out of those memories.
The Barge sailed on around the foot of a rocky buff, and there before them lay the great harbour and city of Baldur’s Gate. Cradled in a crook of the River Chionthar and often swaddled in mist, the city clung tight to the granite bluffs that channelled the river out to the sea. Founded originally as a sea-port for pirates, its domination of the only river crossing for many, many miles, enabled Baldur’s Gate to grow into the largest and most powerful city in the south of the Swordcoast, rivaling even the marvel that was Waterdeep. In the Upper City, the wealthy maintained their opulent lifestyles, the Lower City bustled with sea-trade and industry; while the muddy streets of the Outer City sprawled out to the east and north, plagued by beggars and criminal gangs; barely kept in check by the mercenary soldiers of the Flaming Fists. But those learned in the City’s Lore, like Vander, also knew that it held a dark secret: a curse upon it that manifested itself in murder. And not just the sudden death of a citizen or criminal who had crossed the wrong people, nor the high-handed justice summarily melted out by the Flaming Fists – but an insane violence wrought by the demise of the murderous god Bhaal many centuries before.
The ship docked. “Captain, I suggest you get your cargo unloaded straight away,” cautioned Şilic.
“We have people coming to unload us in the morning,” replied the captain.
“Do it now!” commanded Şilic with just the right level of menace in his voice and knowing in his face to make the captain scurry off to arrange an immediate unload. Late docking boats had always been a particular favourite of his in the past. He knew eyes would already be seeking out this boat as a target.
Şilic realised that he was not too far from The Low Lantern – a moored ship that had been converted into a floating tavern – and started making his way to it. The others followed. Ishtra suggested instead that they go to the Elf Song Tavern. Şilic turned his head, “if you want to” and carried on. The others followed. But as they approached the tavern Şilic cast a Disguise Self spell and suddenly looked shorter and stockier, his clothes shabbier.
The gangplank led up from the wharf and bouncers were patrolling the top deck that had been converted into a promenade. They tried to stop Belle, but Vander looked at them and they relented, and allowed the she-wolf to pass. Şilic for once thought better of it. He didn’t want his disguise too carefully checked. Then he led the way down the stairway into the ship’s hold and the bar room. Drinks were ordered and the Lady Captain, as the landlady was called, soon appeared to check over the new customers. She certainly didn’t want trouble from adventurers in her bar, and could clearly handle herself if there was.
They had been in The Lantern almost an hour when Şilic stood up and disappeared into the room known euphemistically as “the hole”. When he emerged, he was taller and thinner than normal and his face was once more different. Nobody seemed to notice although one punter took an extra careful look at his mug before quaffing his ale again.
Lucas “The Rat” Ratguss arrived: medium build, thin of face, brown clothing, and a little hunched over. Şilic was expecting that he would turn up sometime; and was relieved that he had done so. Still, Şilic waited and watched. He noticed a pair of drinkers who were too wary of their surroundings to be anything other than mere footpads. Care needed.
Şilic sat beside Lucas and made small gesture in the grime of the bar top. Lucas was visibly startled, but another gesture from Şilic calmed him. Not new to the game of subterfuge Lucas, knew not to make too much fuss but continued a conversation as with a stranger, before indicating with his head the pair that Şilic had already noticed; and then to a corner seat where they could talk unobserved.
Baldur’s Gate was plagued by the Guild – a lose-nit group of criminal gangs working across the city. A KIngpin’s territory would roughly correlate to that of a district, though they usually competed for territory and business. Because the City Council will not pay for the Flaming Fists to police the Outer City, the districts outside the walls had become virtual fiefdoms of their respective criminal gangs. The gangs inside the Upper and Lower City districts, however, were unable to rule in the same way because the Flaming Fist enforcement of the Rule of Law was so much stricter and carried out in a summary fashion. Even harbouring a known fugitive was considered a hanging offense. Only the rich Patriars of the Upper City, also out of the jurisdiction of the Mercenaries, had the proper recourse to a formal trial. The shadowy leader of the Guild was known as Eight-Fingers. It is said that she had many city officials, council members, and officers in her pocket. When she required a law to be amended, a valued person released from custody, or a shipload of goods smuggled in without anyone searching properly, it was said she could make it happen. But when she did, the benefactor owed her a favour.
As most gang-members, Şillic had started off as a Footpad. though it didn’t take long for his dexterous ability, strength and intimidating presence to be noticed by the local Kingpin. Initially he was employed to "collect the rent" from some of the more unco-operative clients. This work led him in to conflict with members of a rival gang, who had the misguided idea that some of his clients were "theirs". Ander Lightfingers decided the half-orc’s talents were being wasted, and employed him in some of the gang’s more lucrative smuggling operations. Eventually he was assigned to take over the smuggling operations at the Berdusk town end. However, the Operator he replaced, the half-elf, Karl Crowhood, was far from happy with this new arrangement. It was no co-incidence that when Lightfingers was "done in" and replaced by Kennard Smileclaw, that Sillic#350;illic suddenly found himself out of favour and without support from the gang hierarchy. And so he had left…
The news Lucas now had for Şillic was not good – and indeed much of it was what he had feared. Following the death of Lightfingers, Smileclaw had "secured the manor" of Şilic’s old Kingpin, and with Crowfoot’s help. Worse, Şillic himself had not been forgotten – there was a price for news about him. Şilic could not move about openly in Baldur’s Gate.
Clearly needing somewhere much more private to continue the conversation and discover all that had happened. Lucas agrees to meet at an old warehouse they both knew, and indeed had used in former days. Şilic left first, wishing to still be in The Lantern when his spell wore off. Nor did he wish to have to use another spell. Shortly after, Lucas also left.
The others were getting anxious: what was taking Şillic so long? Eglarion elected to check the toilet where Şillic had last been seen to have gone in. The Ranger approached the door and knocked. No answer. Gently, he pushed it to find it unlocked. Carefully, he pushed harder, and the door swung open, revealing only the empty wooden seat above the harbour water. Eglarion quickly made his way back to the others. In a low voice, he gave his alarming news: “Şillic's gone!”
But quiet though he tried to be, some other bar patrons must have also heard, for they stiffened before returning to their talk and drinks.
“We’d better go and find him,” replied Vander, getting off his chair and leading the way back up the stairs into the misty night air. Back on the dock, despite the low light, Vander’s elf-eyes noticed a figure that he thought he saw leaving the Low Lantern a few minutes before. Though not sure who it was, they decided to follow the figure to a lone wharf. At the end of the wharf, the figure approached the shadows of an old warehouse, and then he was gone.
Şilic was dismayed to see this old haunt so derelict so soon. The windows and doors were boarded up but he found a loose plank on the door and soon had it jimmied open and slipped inside, replacing the board as best he could, Lucas would be a while yet. The space was dank and dusty with abandoned crates. Skilled eye and old memories soon spotted the best place to wait, and the trap-door that had been used to pass illicit goods to and from a boat that would be secretly moored underneath.
Vander led the way and found the boarded door and, with his perceptive elf eyes noticed the fresh marks left by the figure. It didn’t take much to loosen the boards again and Vander slipped in whilst the others waited outside.
Alerted by the noise of entry, Şilic tensed, far to early for Lucas. A shape emerged through the boarded door. Silently Şilic prepared his rapier and moved to an advantageous position ready for a deadly strike. The shape resolved from the silhouette into the familiar form of Vander. “What are you doing here.” The blank look of puzzlement on Vander’s face reminded Şilic that he was still disguised and cancelled the spell.
Regathering himself Vander replied “we followed you,”
“hmph!” came from Şilic as sounds from the door indicated that the others had heard the voices and were coming in.
The warehouse was crowded. “Great! I have a friend coming here and he won’t if he sees you all here.”
“I’ll watch from the barrels we passed on the jetty,” volunteered Ishtra.
Ishtra peered out from behind the barrels, looking back into the dim-lamped streets. Then she heard rapid footfalls coming their way. She made out the thin figure of Lucas being chased by several others. She let this first man pass. Rising up suddenly, she swung her axe into the second and third. One was disemboweled immediately. The axe-blade sliced the other screaming off the pier and into the harbour water. Alerted to the fight, the other heroes came rushing out of the shadows. The goons, so used to easy prey, were soon overwhelmed. One tried to escape, but a Sleep spell from Rhogar stopped him in his tracks. From him and another survivor, Şilic learnt there was indeed a price on his head. But the defiant insolence of the gangsters, especially when one dared even to spit in the half-orc’s face, soon led to their bodies being disposed through the trap door.
So, thought Şilic, of all people, it was Bluetooth who had apparently put these goons up to his murder. Now that’s the name of an enforcer his still remembered – and the times when together they had held off Flaming Fist Guards while others escaped with the goods. Once the goons had done their "hit", they were to meet Bluetooth outside the Temple of Umberlee – the goddess of sea-storms. Well, time then to become reacquainted…
Confrontation with Crowfoot
It was getting late. Not wishing to spend the whole night outside in the damp streets, the heroes decided that Rhogar and Eglarion would take Theldrak, and try and find rooms to stay in the Inn known as the Blushing Mermaid, Ishtra gave them directions. The others, meanwhile, would meet Bluetooth, pretending to be the hoods that had been after Şilic.
Umberlee was uncaring. At her command, storms struck, seas rose, and ships were tossed with little mercy. All sailors dared not offend her less their own ships be dashed to pieces against the rocks. And yet the goddess was not without some pity: her temples were refuges of the grief-stricken, whose loved ones had been lost in the waves. Widow-Priests would serve her, and collect tribute from the seafarers.
They soon approached the House of the Storm Queen. The faint drone of priestly chants from the Widows of the Sea, wafted across the moist air as a sea mist rose from the harbour. The quadrangled outer court, surrounded by its two-story cloisters looked foreboding and ideal for ambush: nevertheless Thalek, Ishtra and Vander entered the courtyard. Şilic, himself, hung back not wishing to be recognised yet, and slunk in the thickening mist. Vander having taken the form of one off the captured hoods, advanced confidently. In the far left corner of the quadrangle a figure stood, leaning against the temple wall, clearly waiting for their arrival. Upon seeing the approach of these mist-shrouded figures, he straightened and stood tall.
“You killed him then?” said the figure.
“Yes he is sleeping with the fishes,” replied Vander mimicking a hood’s voice.
“Good,” said Bluetooth. “Not a nice business, but still…” He began to rummage in his tunic. Suddenly a crossbow bolt lodged in his throat. He collapsed.
“It is strange to see an ORC so close to water,” insulted a voice that Şilic recognised – it was Crowfoot! Other figures appeared on the roofs above the courtyard.
“You should not have returned, Şillic! Cavorting with a Water-Rat, were you? I can see you have many rats following you right now. I’m sure the City will not mind a bit of rat extermination. Not that they will be missed. Been back on the boats again? Not sure how an ORC like you can swim, not with a bolt in his chest. Now perhaps we can find out!”
More bolts fizzed through the mist. As Ishtra dived for cover a bolt ripped through her billowing cloak, grazing her arm.
“I am not the man your remember, Crowfoot,” called up Şilic and a figure slumped on the roof as sleep took effect. An eerie glow shimmered around Crowfoot and the other figures even as they tried to reload their crossbows. Vander let fly a bolt of light as he ran across the courtyard and Crowfoot reeled back with the force of it. Ishtra loosed a crossbow bolt of her own, which thudded home into the chest of the goon-leader.
Şilic addressed the other thugs: “Leave or share Crowfoot’s fate,” sending a bolt of flame also at Crowfoot, dropping him senseless to the tiles.
Vander ran to the wall and attempted to scale the wall with elvish agility. But he misjudged the steepness of the wall and fell back to the ground landing heavily, even for an elf. The Druid, Thalek, transformed into a spider and sprang up the wall after a thiug. The goon, fumbling with his crossbow, screamed – firing wide even as the poisoned fangs closed around him. Other loaded crossbows were loosed, and bolts ricocheted off the tiled floor around Vander – one ripping the folds of Vander’s cloak. Şilic dived forward into a roll, came up onto one knee, and loosed forth a fire bolt against a thug above him. Ishtra grabbed her javelin from the ground, and threw it at another thug on the roof above her – He staggered back with the missile embedded midriff.
Another figure appeared on a far roof, tall, clad in a trench-coat, and wearing a top hat. The nearest thug, with javelin still in his chest turned to flee, running straight into the tall stranger, only to have his throat slit. The figure doffed his hat, and even in the gloom they could see the moonlight glint off the square head of the nail embedded in his forehead.
“The Nail!” mouthed Şilic, remembering the rumours about the appearance of the chief henchman of Eight-Fingers. The tall stanger then threw down a scroll to the feet of Vander, who picked it up. Then the Nail casually walked over the roofs to Crowfoot and dispatched the prone figure. Realising he was also moving to the sleeping thug, Şilic shouted “Noooo!!!” But the figure also dispatched him, too. The remaining thugs moved to flee. Being only feet from this new enemy, one thug leapt – only for a well-aimed knife to flash out mid-air: he screamed and landed too heavily for his body. Spider-Thalek, guessing Şilic’c desire for a prisoner, raised his spinnerets and spun forth a web at the last fleeing thug as he tried to leap from the roof. But the fine strands of silk entangled around the neck of the thug, pulling tight as he fell and breaking his neck with his own body weight.
Şilic rose to his feet, intrigued by the scroll and the appearance of the mysterious figure, who now stood again upon the ruins above them. Vander opened the scroll and read:
“Smileclaw has unleashed a more deadly enemy than he realises. There will be much bloodshed, and many innocent people will die should Bhaal’s Chosen be unleashed again. Stop him, and you will have my gratitude. (Sighed) Eight-Fingers.”
The tall stranger finally spoke: “You will find him, Şillic, hiding in the Sewer Hideout. The way to the sewer entrance you know: go Down, Right, Second Right, and Right again.” The mysterious figure then turned his back, and leapt off the roof into the night.
Şillic also wondered at the price Bluetooth had placed on his head. A swift but exacting search of his corpse reveal the princely sum of 7 gold pieces, “7 gold pieces, you tight fisted mercenary” a boot added to his disgust as he placed it hard, bone-crunchingly hard, into Bluetooth’s chest. The other thugs realised a few coppers and Crowfoot nothing.
Şilic’s mood could not get much worse. Fortunately he had lightened by the time that they arrived at the Blushing Mermaid. The events of the battle were recounted to the others. Nearly everyone turned in for the night, leaving Vander and Şilic in the bar. Before she slept, Istra felt it was time she looked at what was inside the package she had received in Elturiel. Unwrapping with care, she found within a glistening great sword the likes of which she had not seen before. She held it to the lamplight and there beheld its stunning workmanship: the handle was dragon-shaped, and its jaws grasped the bright red pommel-stone. Its hand-guards were also shaped in the likeness of dragons looking out upon either side. She sung it through the air, and marveled.
Not long after the others had departed, Şillic and Vander were approached by a bearded man in unkempt clothing. He held out an empty ale-mug and shook it. Vander was about to get him a drink, when he felt Şillic’s firm hand on his shoulder. “It’s coin he wants!”
So Vander dropped in a coin – and gold one, too. The man looked into his cup and his eyes lit up. “What is it, you wish to know?”
A few more coins secured the information that they wanted: Frume’s contact, Acklyn Selaborn, lived and did trade business in the northern Outer City district known as Black Gate. Şillic also arranged to be given news when the Dragoncult’s caravan arrived from the south. Further, he used more gold to order two disguise kits, and directions to a safe house for the next night if they needed it. With business concluded, they arranged to meet again with the bearded man at The Splurging Stur0geon Tavern mid-afternoon the next day.
As Vander turned to go to his room Şilic tugged his arm and whispered to him to meet him at Acklyn’s house. Şilic then left the building. Moments later a bat flew into the air and sped across the rooftops, and over the Upper City walls toward the Black Gate.
The house was easily identified. The widows were shuttered and no holes could be found in the eves. Fortunately the chimney was no longer spewing smoke. The bat flew down the chimney and skimmed the hot embers stirring a few motes of ash. Then Şilic was standing in the middle of the room. Persistent loud snoring could be heard from the floor above.
He called out the name: “Acklyn Selaborn!” The snoring from upstairs stopped and Şilic moved toward it. Then came a warning: “One more step and I’ll fire this crossbow.”
“That would really disappoint Ontharr Frume,” mused Şilic out loud.
The crossbow lowered. “How did you get in here?” questioned the home owner.
“That is of no concern of yours – but the news from Ontharr should do.”
Şilic recounted to Acklyn the events of the past few weeks. In return, Acklyn informed Şillic that the northern journey up the Trade Way and north to waterdeep was hazardous and passed through dangerous lands. So those merchants who dared venture it would band together in large caravans. His business was to supply the merchants with horses, wagons, and other material that would aid the merchants in their long journey. It just so happened that a merchant caravan was preparing to set off, and would be leaving first thing the day after tomorrow. It was quite likely that the Cultists would seek to join it.
Furthermore, a Patriar by the name of Johannes Maccabond had already arranged both with him and others in the same business the provision of five wagons for an unspecified trade. “It could be for the Dragoncult,” Acklyn reasoned. “The Laws of Baldur’s Gate do not permit wagons to pass through the city. If the Cultists do arrive from the south, they will need to leave their own wagons and have their "goods" portered through the streets. If they then want to travel on northwards, they will need to seek other transport.”
Şilic was not happy with this news. He quickly counted the time he had to accomplish all that needed to be done in Baldur’s Gate. It would not do to disappoint Eight-Fingers, and aiding "The Lady" would be the only way he could ensure he could live safely in Baldur’s Gate again. Vander had better be on time with the others.
The next morning while Ishtra, Thalek, Eglerion, Belle, Rhogar and Theldrak were having breakfast it seemed clear that Şillic and Vander had overslept.
Ishtra had retired early the night before after getting a meal and a drink but the others had seem Şillic and Vander having drinks with an old man. There had been money in the table so the other fussed there had been gambling going on.
When the others had finished breakfast the bar tender said the cooks didn’t want to be kept waiting and wanted to know if their companions would be having breakfast. Thalek went to see if they were awake to report they were gone. None of the staff at the Blushing Mermaid had been given a message and they hadn’t left a note so there others were not sure what to do. Wait for them to return, or deal with their business in Baldur’s Gate and hope to meet up with them later.
In the end the choose the second option. They had been instructed to meet someone in the Black Gate district, and decided to make their way there through the Upper City. There they found the Market, known as The Wide. Many stalls were abound, and at its centre, stood the large imposing statue of "The Ranger" – a tall but well-armed bald-headed man holding up what looked like a hamster. Ishtra asked the others if they could wait while she bought a few things.
Not knowing that Şillic and Vander had plans to get some disguise kits, Ishtra bought herself one as well as some thieve’s tools. Remembering her interest in getting a trident as another ranged weapon she found and bought one. She also found an armourer that sold small knives that could serve as daggers. They were more expensive, but small enough for a woman to conceal near her breasts, so Ishtra bought one of them.
When she returned, Theldrak had bought some pastries, and was sharing them with the others. Even Belle had a couple, which she wolfed down with great delight.
When they finally made it to Black Gate and their contact: Acklyn Selaborn; they found he seemed to be busy conducting his business with many other people so Ishtra decide to join the queue to wait her turn. Finally, he concluded a deal, looked up, and saw her. He let her know he was expecting them, and took them round the back where a lunch had been prepared for them. He told them to meet Şillic and Vander at mid-afternoon in the Splurging Sturgeon. But before that, he advised the heroes to get themselves hired by the caravans that would be leaving the city for the North the next morning.
Ishtra, with her muscled frame and skill with weapons, had no trouble finding employment, just as when the Flaming Fists had signed her up many moons ago. Edwin the Pole hired her to serve as the personal bodyguard of one wealthy merchant, Samardag the Hoper. Pay would be 10 gold pieces a week, plus expenses. Although the rate for skilled hirelings was 2 gold pieces a day, Ishtra accepted his offer since she’d never been paid as much as 1 gold piece previously.
Theldrak got himself hired as a sergeant to Lastferrow the Silent for 8 gold pieces a week and the rest hired themselves out as guards for 5 gold pieces a week and made arrangements for Şillic and Vander to be guards too. With this accomplished, the group headed back through the Upper City, back down to the Lower City and their rendezvous at the Splurging Sturgeon.
Eight-Fingers Mission
An hour before the others were due to arrive Vander went out and waited outside the Splurging Sturgeon. Shortly before the appointed time they arrived unhurriedly. Inject some haste he lead them to the safe house.
A short exchange of information left Şilic and Vander thoroughly unimpressed with the lowly positions Ishtra negotiated for them with the merchants. Şilic had other ideas.
“Time is short” announced Şilic, “We need to get going,” and led them out of the safe house taking everything with them. They soon arrived in Bloomingdale District. Down a quiet street lay the manhole cover to the sewer that Şilic remembered. Şilic was still concerned that the information given by "The Nail" was different than what he remembered from the one time he visited the Kingpin’s den.
The odour from the rank sewer, whilst not bothering the half-orc, caused Belle to recoil and no encouragement from Eglarion could coax her down the sewer. The Elves whilst nauseated by the vile stench kept it to themselves and proceed on. Theldrak was sent down first followed by Şilic then Vander, Ishtra insisted on lighting a torch and the others followed with Thalek bringing up the rear. The 20' wide tunnel had a 5' parapet on each side and a 10' wide sewer channel. To their left was the end of the sewer rising upward as an inlet. Turning right the party followed the parapet to a crossroad, being the way Şilic remembered they followed the parapet. Vander wanted to know the route and Şilic told him that he remembered it to be right, right and right again although "the nail" had said right, second right and right again. “Probably doubles back on itself leading to the same place” he mused wisely.
Shortly after the first turn, at a crossway, a partial collapse blocked the sewer. Even with dark vision Theldrak found it too dark to make out a way forward and asked for the torch to be passed forward. The light disturbed a nest of rats. The swarm of rats emerged and attacked the group. Şilic attempts to cast a sleep spell but the rats rush at him and the bites distract him from the spell. Undaunted he starts again and this time all but 2 rats fall asleep around his feet. Vander manages to stab these and the motionless bodies of the sleeping rats were dispatched. Unfortunately Eglarion had been targeted by the rats and he had many bites to show for it.
There was no way across the fetid sewer channel but to jump. Leaping the sewer channel proved easy except the nimble Thalek slipped and found himself standing knee deep in sewerage, cursing human settlements to cover his embarrassment. The sewer turned right again and soon turned back on itself. A bridge lead over the sewer channel opposite a passage with upward leading stairs. Finally Şilic felt happy with the familiar stairs before him.
Advancing up the stairs they sent Şilic forward to check for traps after Vander threw a weighted purse along the floor, the one gathered from the drunken Patriar youths earlier that day. A door ended the passage. Şilic approached and listened intently. Voices beyond the door, one he recognised, Smilieclaw, was telling minions that they needed to deal with someone, the name was muffled, and the minions agreed affirmatively.
Returning to the others Şilic reported what he heard estimating that there was Smileclaw and three or four others. Theldrak moved up to the door and Vander took position behind him readying a Sleep spell. Şilic tried to open the door with magehand but it was locked. Unfortunately it had alerted those in the room. Voices quietened. An attempt to unpick the lock succeeded and the door opened.
Among piles of crates and barrels stood Simleclaw behind a chair and small table that he hand his thugs had so recently sat. Smileclaw and his six thugs stood waiting with light crossbows. “Don’t try anything stupid Mister Şilic. So you have come Şilic, but you will not leave. Mister Şilic you are responsible for threatening my entire business. But for your meddling I would be guild master now. No doubt Eight-Fingers put you up to this. My henchman Minos Sharp-Stalker will deal with her later. Right now I will deal with you.” He signals the goons and they fire their bows seemingly trying to target Şilic who is hit as dodges and weaves. The others dive aside, except Vander who stands still as bolts fly past him. In response Vander casts his sleep spell and a thug falls to the ground. Şilic threw a fire bolt at Smileclaw.
Theldrak charges into the room and attacks a thug, Ishtra follows and attacks another. Thalek shoots a bow and stuns a thug. Eglarion misses with his bow.
The Thugs fiddle with their bows but are not fast enough to stop the onslaught. Ishtra swings her axe and kills the thug before her. Theldrak kills another thug. An eldritch spear from Vander floors Simileclaw. Şilic rushes to Smileclaw’s prone body in time to hear his gloating death rattle “You may have done me in but I die knowing you will soon join me. Sharp-stalker is after you. You cannot escape.”
Seeing Şilic distracted a thug rushes across the room at him and slashes his blades scoring a wound on him. Şilic whips around and thrusts his rapier deeply into the thug’s chest.
Vander now approaches the slumbering thug and ties him up. Şilic enjoys another interrogation and finds the true depth of Smileclaw’s fear of him and the full name of Minos Sharp-stalker the assassin, dispatching the hapless thug. A thorough search of the bolt hole revealed a small trove of treasure. But they had no time to collect up the wares. Hefting the bodies into the sewer channel, except Simileclaw, he would make a suitable gift for the rats nest’s net family. Şilic final triumph was to locking "seal" the room with a signal known to all the thieves’ guilds as "under new management" with his personal mark, one left so many times before, to make sure all knew that Şilic was back. The gates to the upper city would soon be shut and they had to cross it before they closed.
Back on the surface they are met by a pleased Belle, tail-wagging and excited, until that is she gets wind of Thalek’s fouled robes. With the dying words still in his ears Şilic decides to hasten his route back to Ontharr’s contact. He hangs back until he is behind the group and slips his ring onto his finger, nobody notices a bat rising into the falling dusk of the evening.
As the party round a corner they are spotted by a patrol of flaming fists led by none other than Captain Luther, Ishtra’s old nemisis.
“Oi, you there. Where do you think you are going?” booms the officer class military voice of one used to halting terrified recruits at a hundred paces.
Realising that their soiled clothing, general odour and bloodied weapons would be "impossible" to explain and Ishtra had no wish to spend any time in Luther’s company if she could help it they sought routes of escape.
Not quick enough, Luther recognises Ishtra, “Kered! Damn you, and your impertinence! This time I’ll have your hide!! Sergeant! Arrest the disgraced Private Kered and her rabble! Do it Man!” with additional gestures he waves forward the small troop of soldiers under his command.
The squad advances on the party. With little time to formulate a plan Rhogar sends a ball of flame in their direction scattering the tight formation but earning a few seconds for them to flee down a side street.
The guards regroup and give chase. Vander tries to scale the walls of a building but falls back and the guards almost catch him as he recovers himself. A handy vial of acid hurled at the on coming men delay them the fractions of seconds he needs to set off after the others.
They turn another corner trusting to Ishtra’s local knowledge. A fruit cart partially blocks the alley, Eglarion Shouts “Turn it over!” Ishtra waits for Vander to pass and flips the hand cart over. They weave through the few people still about causing heads to turn as the smell assails them. A voice from a dark ally beckons them but when they get there no-one is in sight but the guards run past.
A moment of rest, “What shall we do now?” enquires Rhogar.
“The Flaming fists have no jurisdiction in the upper city” states Thalek by way of reply.
They make their way slowly to the gate of the upper city dodging numerous patrols clearly on the hunt for somebody. Finally at the gate they find the guard doubled, standing off a little they huddle to discuss what to do. A halfling sidles up to Ishtra “We do this for the lady,” but they didn’t mean Ishtra. Moments late bags of dung are hurled at the guards and lead them away. Now fewer than normal guards remain at the gate and the party blitzes past.
They hastily cross the Upper City, disdainful looks appraise them from the few people still about. Their attire, and its stench, causing their passing to not go unnoticed. Tongues would wag that night in many taverns.
Fortunately nobody approached them and they left the Upper City and entered into the Black City, making their way to Acklyn’s house. Şilic greeted them with “What kept you?” Much to Rhogar’s constenation and perplexion, and showed them where they could wash up and clean their clothes. A meal had already been prepared and they ate in a sombre mood. Something about Smileclaw’s last words had unsettled them all.
Cuts, bruises and bites were finally treated before an early night was had by all. Şilic couldn’t settle until he had checked the doors and windows that they were locked and secure. Even so he used his tools to prepare alarms and warnings.
During the night Vander stirs and becomes aware of movement around the house and alerts Şilic, who was listening to the sounds himself. A creak of floorboard came from Acklyn’s room. Hurriedly they moved up the stairs toward the room. A scream from beyond the door instilled more haste and they burst through the door to see a shadowy figure stood over the quailing Acklyn. A downward thrust of the dagger stilled the form of Acklyn blood dripping for the raised dagger. The Figure, Minos Sharp-Stalker, hisses “My Quarry at last” looking at Şilic, face masked the whole form wrapped in a leather coat.
Vander closes with the Assassin and is stabbed with the poisoned blade and falls unconscious. Şilic retreats back and pulls the door closed and calls for the others who were rushing to him having been woken by the sounds of fighting. Together they rush back into the room knocking back Minos who had been trying to open the door.
Minos transformed into a monstrous creature, the Bhaalspawn, and came forward again. Thalek transforms himself into a bear and attacks. He bites the monster but his claws only flail air and if bears ever look bemused Thalek looked just like that now. Şilic lunges forward with his rapier finding his mark as Minos tries to dodge ad parry. At this Minos disengages and rushes to the window and climbs to the rooftop. Rhogar rushes to the window flailing his arms in an obvious attempt to prepare a spell, leans through the window and sends forth a ball of flame at the retreating figure of Minos who is engulfed in the flame and falls from the window. Ishtra notices the fallen figure of Vander and rushes to him, a quick appraisal, and she dives for her pack and pulls out a vial and pours the contents of the healing potion down his gasping throat. Vander splutters and murmurs still weak from the effects of the poison and the slash in his chest, which has closed and visibly mends.
Fortunately there are no sounds of stirring from the surrounding houses. The rest of the night is spent clearing away as much of the evidence of the battle as possible, including Acklyn’s body. To meet with the caravan’s the next morning there would not be time to involve the authorities. However using thieves signals to point to a hidden note Şilic leaves an account of what happen in the house to for eight-fingers. Meanwhile the others concoct a letter from Acklyn to say that urgent business has arisen for him and that he will be leaving with the caravan in the morning along with a sealed letter to Ontharr detailing the happenings in Baldur’s Gate and the plans for capturing the Dragon cult shipment.
Morning arrives and the group avail themselves of Acklyn’s larder and utilise every last piece of food for breakfast and prepare some ravelling goodies.
They rendezvous with the Merchant caravan. Şilic still less than impressed with the position Ishtra had found for him sets off to garner something better for himself. A few enquires later, his "winning" smile/snarl, whichever, finds himself before the master dwarf insert name, a wealthy trader seeking a bodyguard for the journey, a certain irony toys with Silic’s mind but the pay is good and it will give him certain freedoms around the caravan. In all he is very pleased with himself.
The early start drifts into almost mid morning before all the preparations are made. Every ready Şilic is already spying opportunities within the caravan. There will be "mischief" happening and more often that not involving the dragon cult wagons. As the wagons roll the now seemingly familiar figure of "the Nail" is made out in the crowd, He smiles, doffs his cap and there is just time for Şilic to signal a message for him to find the note left for eight fingers before he slips into the crowd.
5. The Long Road North
A Week has now passed since you left the city of Baldur’s Gate. Days of continuous riding, stopping, and watching. Looking out for any sign of trouble – for the lands north of Baldur’s Gate are wild and no longer touched by civilisation. Known as the Fields of the Dead from memories of ancient battles long ago, the grasslands stretch for miles upon miles in every direction, punctured now and again with mounds and ancient standing stones. Some grouped together in clumps; others standing alone. The wind blows over the plains continuously, rustling up the grass with sounds of strange whispers, as if the long buried dead are still speaking and giving warning. But the land is not fully abandoned to the ghosts of the past. Sparsely spread across the grasslands, small hamlets and homesteads stand at short distance from the road. For though the land is no longer tamed, it is not barren, and brave hardy folk can still find lands of their own to till and shepherd.
But they are not the only inhabitants of these lands. Other creatures, some humanoid, and some less so, have also made the grasslands their home. Every barrow by the road, and every stream that needs to be crossed are eyed with wary suspicion by the guards and merchants of the caravan. And during the long nights, the caravans form into laager. Already there have been incidents with small groups of wild beasts on the prowl. The presence of Belle with the wagons has been of proven use: her nose keen for danger, and her howls driving away many a would-be predator taking too much interest in the horses. Lai Angesstun, a dwarf among the merchants, often laughs and comments that other merchants should pay heed to obtaining and training their own wolves. The Moon Elf, Edherlri Lewel, however, is not so sure, and seeks to keep Belle right way from her "darling" mares.
Bringing up the rear of the column are the five wagons of the Dragoncult. Initially, they tried to lead the way, but they seem to be plagued by apparent misfortune: a wheel stuck here, or bridles snapping there. A day does not seem to pass without something going wrong with their wagons. And when they do, Şillic conceals a smirk. Others in the caravan have offered to help them, only to find themselves shooed away by the bad-tempered black-robed guards that watch their wagons. When night falls, the cultists laager up with everyone else, but still keep themselves to themselves and do not mingle. Oyn Evenmor is especially scathing about this; though Samardag "helpfully" points out that Evenmor is grumpy about most things. When conversations do happen between the cultists and the elected leader of the caravan, Werond Torohar, they are carried out by Zarthor himself – and Eglarion has not forgotten him, though keeping out of his way.
Eventually, upon the horizon can be seen the jagged shapes of the rock-ridges known as the Troll-Claws. Having seen little else but grassland for endless days, there are many in the group who welcome the prospect of change. But those who have travelled this way before, such as Ishtra, look up and sigh – for they know the perils that now threaten ahead.